" "So do I," replied Ruth. ‘All right, Trodger. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. God must love me, for he has guided me here. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Giles's round-house. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. My people don’t know what to do. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Ruth did not consider it necessary, however, to add that she had not notified this aunt of her coming, that she did not know whether the aunt still resided in Hartford or was underground.
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