Ruth had worn only the
daintiest and finest of garments all her life, without any regard for
suitableness. From her babyhood to this day of her girlhood, it had been
Philip Alston's pride and happiness to dress her as the proudest and
richest father might dress his daughter, in the midst of the highest
civilization. Ruth knew nothing else, and those who knew her would
scarcely have known her, seeing her otherwise. It was only the few
strangers stopping at Cedar House, on their way over the Wilderness
Road, who gazed at Ruth in wondering amazement. Naturally enough, those
who had never seen her before could not at first believe the evidence of
their own dazzled eyes. To them this radiant young creature in her rich,
delicate raiment could not seem real at first; she was too lovely, too
like an enchanting vision born of the dim green shadows of the forest, a
bewitching dryad, an exquisite sprite.
Some such thoughts as these crossed the mind of Paul Colbert as he
looked at her through the open door. He had ridden up unheard, had
dismounted, tying his horse to a tree, and had then stood for several
minutes without being seen by Ruth or David.
Pages:
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162