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There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love.
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