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She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. “Lucy, that’s horrible. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. She would end alone. I haven't much money; I don't know how much it is going to cost me to reach Hartford; so I fixed over a couple of my mother's dresses. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death.
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