That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. Here her strength completely failed her, and she was compelled to seek some repose. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. ‘Then open it quickly.
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