Mr. James Devlin had a daughter who had had some advantages in the East
after her father had become rich, though her earlier life was spent
altogether in the mountains. I soon saw where Roscoe's secret was to be
found. Ruth Devlin was a tall girl of sensitive features, beautiful eyes,
and rare personality. Her life, as I came to know, had been one of great
devotion and self-denial. Before her father had made his fortune, she had
nursed a frail-bodied, faint-hearted mother, and had cared for, and been
a mother to, her younger sisters. With wealth and ease came a brighter
bloom to her cheek, but it had a touch of care which would never quite
disappear, though it became in time a beautiful wistfulness rather than
anxiety. Had this responsibility come to her in a city, it might have
spoiled her beauty and robbed her of her youth altogether; but in the
sustaining virtue of a life in the mountains, warm hues remained on her
cheek and a wonderful freshness in her nature. Her family worshipped
her--as she deserved.
That evening Roscoe confided to me that he had not asked Ruth Devlin to
be his wife, nor had he, indeed, given her definite tokens of his love.
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