So Ruth turned her face from it to the wall, and called on God to take it.
"Take it!" she cried--"take it! Make haste, O God, make haste and take it!" But the child did not die.

It lived and grew strong.

Ruth herself suckled it, and as she nourished it in her bosom her heart yearned over it, and she forgot the prayer she had prayed concerning it.

So, little by little, her spirit returned to her, and day by day her soul deceived her, and hour by hour an angel out of heaven seemed to come to her side and whisper "Take heart of hope, O Ruth! God does not afflict willingly.
Perhaps the child is not blind, perhaps it is not deaf, perhaps it is not dumb.

Who shall ye say?
Wait and see!" And, during the first few months of its life, Ruth could see no difference in her child from the children of other women.