"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. Divers plans and figures were chalked upon the walls; and the spaces between them were filled up with an almanack for the year; a godly ballad, adorned with a rude wood-cut, purporting to be "The History of Chaste Susannah;" an old print of the Seven Golden Candlesticks; an abstract of the various Acts of Parliament against drinking, swearing, and all manner of profaneness; and a view of the interior of Doctor Daniel Burgess's Presbyterian meeting-house in Russell Court, with portraits of the reverend gentleman and the principal members of his flock. He’s a catch, Lucy. “Boys!” said Capes. "That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. “I am too much in earnest,” he answered, “to be able to take this matter lightly. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface.
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