Ruth Read Free Page B

worthies hung around, in all
varieties of costume, from the days of Holbein to the present time.
The lofty roof was indistinct, for the lamps were not fully lighted
yet; while through the richly-painted Gothic window at one end the
moonbeams fell, many-tinted, on the floor, and mocked with their
vividness the struggles of the artificial light to illuminate its
little sphere.
    High above sounded the musicians, fitfully trying some strain of
which they were not certain. Then they stopped playing and talked,
and their voices sounded goblin-like in their dark recess, where
candles were carried about in an uncertain wavering manner, reminding
Ruth of the flickering zigzag motion of the will-o'-the-wisp.
    Suddenly the room sprang into the full blaze of light, and Ruth felt
less impressed with its appearance, and more willing to obey Mrs
Mason's sharp summons to her wandering flock, than she had been
when it was dim and mysterious. They had presently enough to do in
rendering offices of assistance to the ladies who thronged in, and
whose voices drowned all the muffled sound of the band Ruth had
longed so much to hear. Still, if one pleasure was less, another was
greater than she had anticipated.
    "On condition" of such a number of little observances that Ruth
thought Mrs Mason would never have ended enumerating them, they were
allowed during the dances to stand at a side-door and watch. And what
a beautiful sight it was! Floating away to that bounding music—now
far away, like garlands of fairies, now near, and showing as lovely
women, with every ornament of graceful dress—the elite of the county
danced on, little caring whose eyes gazed and were dazzled. Outside
all was cold, and colourless, and uniform, one coating of snow over
all. But inside it was warm, and glowing, and vivid; flowers scented
the air, and wreathed the head, and rested on the bosom, as if it
were midsummer. Bright colours flashed on the eye and were gone, and
succeeded by others as lovely in the rapid movement of the dance.
Smiles dimpled every face, and low tones of happiness murmured
indistinctly through the room in every pause of the music.
    Ruth did not care to separate the figures that formed a joyous and
brilliant whole; it was enough to gaze, and dream of the happy
smoothness of the lives in which such music, and such profusion of
flowers, of jewels, elegance of every description, and beauty of all
shapes and hues, were everyday things. She did not want to know who
the people were; although to hear a catalogue of names seemed to be
the great delight of most of her companions.
    In fact, the enumeration rather disturbed her; and to avoid the shock
of too rapid a descent into the commonplace world of Miss Smiths and
Mr Thomsons, she returned to her post in the ante-room. There she
stood thinking, or dreaming. She was startled back to actual life by
a voice close to her. One of the dancing young ladies had met with a
misfortune. Her dress, of some gossamer material, had been looped up
by nosegays of flowers, and one of these had fallen off in the dance,
leaving her gown to trail. To repair this, she had begged her partner
to bring her to the room where the assistants should have been. None
were there but Ruth.
    "Shall I leave you?" asked the gentleman. "Is my absence necessary?"
    "Oh, no!" replied the lady. "A few stitches will set all to rights.
Besides, I dare not enter that room by myself." So far she spoke
sweetly and prettily. But now she addressed Ruth. "Make haste. Don't
keep me an hour." And her voice became cold and authoritative.
    She was very pretty, with long dark ringlets and sparkling black
eyes. These had struck Ruth in the hasty glance she had taken, before
she knelt down to her task. She also saw that the gentleman was young
and elegant.
    "Oh, that lovely galop! How I long to dance to it! Will it never be
done? What a frightful time you are taking; and I'm dying to return
in time for this galop!"
    By way of showing a pretty, childlike