Ruth had been so much accustomed to blame of late, that she
almost anticipated some remonstrance or reproach now, for not
having fulfilled her promise better. She little guessed that Mr.
Bellingham was far more busy trying to devise some excuse for
meeting her again, during the silence that succeeded her speech,
than displeased with her for not bringing a more particular
account of the little boy, in whom he had ceased to feel any
interest.

She repeated, after a minute's pause--

"I am very sorry I have done so little, sir."

"Oh, yes, I am sure you have done all you could. It was
thoughtless in me to add to your engagements."

"He is displeased with me," thought Ruth, "for what he believes
to have been neglect of the boy, whose life he risked his own to
save. If I told all, he would see that I could not do more; but I
cannot tell him all the sorrows and worries that have taken up my
time."

"And yet I am tempted to give you another little commission, if
it is not taking up too much of your time, and presuming too much
on your good nature," said he, a bright idea having just struck
him. "Mrs. Mason lives in Heneage Place, does not she? My
mother's ancestors lived there; and once, when the house was
being repaired, she took me in to show me the old place. There
was an old hunting-piece painted on a panel over one of the
chimney-pieces; the figures were portraits of my ancestors. I