Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction
After church was over, she used to return home to the same
window-seat, and watch till the winter twilight was over and gone,
and the stars came out over the black masses of houses. And then she
would steal down to ask for a candle, as a companion to her in the
deserted workroom. Occasionally the servant would bring her up some
tea; but of late Ruth had declined taking any, as she had discovered
she was robbing the kind-hearted creature of part of the small
provision left out for her by Mrs Mason. She sat on, hungry and cold,
trying to read her Bible, and to think the old holy thoughts which
had been her childish meditations at her mother's knee, until one
after another the apprentices returned, weary with their day's
enjoyment, and their week's late watching; too weary to make her in
any way a partaker of their pleasure by entering into details of the
manner in which they had spent their day.
And last of all, Mrs Mason returned; and, summoning her "young
people" once more into the parlour, she read a prayer before
dismissing them to bed. She always expected to find them all in
the house when she came home, but asked no questions as to their
proceedings through the day; perhaps because she dreaded to hear
that one or two had occasionally nowhere to go, and that it would be
sometimes necessary to order a Sunday's dinner, and leave a lighted
fire on that day.
For five months Ruth had been an inmate at Mrs Mason's, and such had
been the regular order of the Sundays. While the forewoman stayed
there, it is true, she was ever ready to give Ruth the little variety
of hearing of recreations in which she was no partaker; and however
tired Jenny might be at night, she had ever some sympathy to bestow
on Ruth for the dull length of day she had passed. After her
departure, the monotonous idleness of the Sunday seemed worse to
bear than the incessant labour of the work-days; until the time came
when it seemed to be a recognised hope in her mind, that on Sunday
afternoons she should see Mr Bellingham, and hear a few words from
him, as from a friend who took an interest in her thoughts and
proceedings during the past week.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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