A Colonial Wooing
voice that cannot be imitated, "Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning, of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, and of putting on of apparel."
At this Ruth looked at the speaker with a little flash of indignation in her eyes, and, without perceptible movement of her arm, removed the shawl from the window-seat, and before the preacher had gotten farther in her text than "but let it be," the kindly breeze swept over the hidden cord and the little room was filled with sweetest melody.
Never before had a text received such a reception, and whatever was in Friend Bunting's mind was now beyond recall. She sat down and replaced her bonnet, as if she would hide herself from those gathered about her.
That every one present should look up in a bewildered way was not surprising, but why stare at Ruth! It was too sweet a sound for any human voice, and yet some of the gathered Friends thought of her habit of singing, and wondered if this strange music too was one of her accomplishments. The
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