thought it was very likely he never would notice her again, for
she knew she had been very rude with her short answers; it was
very provoking that she had behaved so rudely. She would be
sixteen in another month, and she was still childish and awkward.
Thus she lectured herself, after parting with Mr. Bellingham; and
the consequence was, that on the following Sunday she was ten
times as blushing and conscious, and (Mr. Bellingham thought) ten
times more beautiful than ever. He suggested that, instead of
going straight home through High Street, she should take the
round by the Leasowes; at first she declined, but then, suddenly
wondering and questioning herself why she refused a thing which
was, as far as reason and knowledge (her knowledge) went, so
innocent, and which was certainly so tempting and pleasant, she
agreed to go the round; and, when she was once in the meadows
that skirted the town, she forgot all doubt and awkwardness--nay,
almost forgot the presence of Mr. Bellingham--in her delight at
the new, tender beauty of an early spring day in February. Among
the last year's brown ruins, heaped together by the wind in the
hedgerows, she found the fresh, green, crinkled leaves and pale
star-like flowers of the primroses. Here and there a golden
celandine made brilliant the sides of the little brook that (full
of water in "February fill-dyke") bubbled along by the side of
the path; the sun was low in the horizon, and once, when they
came to a higher part of the Leasowes, Ruth burst into an
exclamation of delight at the evening glory of mellow light which
was in the sky behind the purple distance, while the brown
leafless woods in the foreground derived an almost metallic
lustre from the golden mist and haze of sunset. It was but
three-quarters of a mile round by the meadows, but somehow it
took them an hour to walk it. Ruth turned to thank Mr. Bellingham