Ruth Arnold Part 12

"Forgotten what?"

"How much G.o.d loves you. 'Like as a father pitieth his children,' you know, Ruth."

She made no reply, but slipped away to her own room to lay her heavy burden at the feet of the Crucified One.

I remember hearing some years ago of a little child who, being reproved for some naughty deed, seemed very unhappy, and was seen to steal into a room close by, where he knelt down and lisped in his baby tones, "Dear G.o.d, _mis'able_." How much there was in that tiny prayer, that one word!

It was indeed the essence of heartfelt prayer, the laying down of the soul's burden.

Ruth could hardly find words in which to express the cry of her heart, but when she went downstairs half an hour later there was a peaceful look upon her face and a gladness in her very step which had been wanting since she came to Busyborough. She had sought and obtained pardon, and had rejoiced once more in the sweet texts which she read in her Bible. She added a long postscript to her home letter, and that night Ernest found upon his dressing-table a little twisted note containing these words--

"Dear Ernest,--Thank you for ever and ever.

"Your forgiven and happy cousin,

"Ruth."

CHAPTER XIX.

LIVING IT DOWN.

The holidays were over about the end of January, and Ruth once more accompanied her cousin to Addison College. But she entered the schoolroom in a different spirit, distrusting self and relying only upon Divine help.

She had need enough of grace and strength, for the day had not pa.s.sed before the girls noticed that Miss Elgin had lost confidence in her and was inclined to regard her with distrust and suspicion, and they wondered greatly what had caused the change. Julia of course was questioned, and without really wis.h.i.+ng to do her cousin an injury she gradually let out the facts concerning the prize. The girls took different views of the case, according to their liking for Ruth and their sense of right and wrong. There was a great deal of talk for a few days, and then the matter was forgotten by all but Miss Elgin, whose manner was a constant reminder of the affair.

As for Ruth herself, she could _almost_ say, "None of these things move me," so trivial did they seem; for she was rejoicing in the consciousness of forgiveness and pardon, her heart was resting after its wanderings, filled with the "peace which pa.s.seth all understanding." The sheep had come back to the fold, there to abide, to find its shelter safer and sweeter than ever.

Mrs. Arnold's reply to her daughter was at once tender, sorrowful, hopeful and motherly. She grieved over what had happened, but rejoiced that her child had no longer any secret to hide from her; she pointed out the only path of safety, and commended her to the care and keeping of the loving Father who had watched over her during all her waywardness and had brought her back to Himself.

That letter aroused an intense longing for home, for a glimpse of all the dear faces which she had not seen for seven long months. August seemed so far away, though each day brought it nearer. Ernest had quite relapsed into his usual shy, quiet manner, and it was only occasionally that he was willing to talk with his cousin upon the one subject which was a bond of union between them.

A change took place in the household early in March, for Gerald left home. His accident and subsequent explanations opened his father's eyes to shortcomings which he had for some time suspected, yet it was also the means of establis.h.i.+ng a better relation between them.

The injury which the fire had caused to the books was a most serious matter, and not even several weeks' work was able to repair the mischief. The whole matter was necessarily known to all the clerks, and Mr. Woburn decided that his son must no longer remain in his office, where he had been able persistently to s.h.i.+rk his duties. Gerald was thankful to have a chance of starting afresh, away from his old a.s.sociates, and gladly fell in with his father's proposal that he should leave Busyborough, and take a situation which was easily procured for him in another town.

Julia openly lamented his going, and also cried over it a good deal in secret, for she was very much attached to her eldest brother, and had regarded Ruth far more kindly ever since the night when she had been the means of saving him.

"I used to think that you hated Gerald," she said to her cousin one day, "and he seemed so kind and polite to you, and so cross to me, that I grew jealous and couldn't bear you;" and Ruth was somewhat amused to overhear Julia remark to a friend that she thought she (Ruth) "had really improved of late."

Study, lessons, cla.s.ses, essays, and practice were again the important matters to which attention was directed daily, and there was little time for recreation or amus.e.m.e.nt until Easter, when Gerald returned for a few days, and there was a fortnight's respite from the apparently endless round of school duties.

A day's excursion of about ten miles into the country, in search of primroses and other wild flowers, greatly revived Ruth's longing for home. It seemed so strange to think that the Cressleigh woods were studded with primroses and anemones, and that she would not gather them nor see the woods until the flowers had all vanished.

One more term's work, and then--hurrah for home! Such were her thoughts when she returned to school again after her brief holiday; and as it would probably be her last term, she determined to work with redoubled vigour and energy to acquire the knowledge which she would afterwards be able to impart to her young brothers and sisters.

Miss Elgin's coolness and distrust considerably abated, when she saw Ruth working diligently and bearing with patience the petty taunts and slights of her school-fellows. Her influence was greater than it had been. She no longer found fault with the other girls in the spirit of the Pharisee, but spoke compa.s.sionately, knowing what it was to be tempted and to fall, and her companions were more inclined to follow the example of one who was striving to do right than to be influenced by the precepts of a self-sufficient paragon.

There were still many slips and shortcomings, but she neither concealed nor made light of them; she simply confessed herself in the wrong and began again in the strength which comes from above.

So the term pa.s.sed, and Ruth, who believed that her school-days were nearly over, began to take a mournful pleasure in thinking, "This is the last time I shall ever do this or that," and drew many plans for her future life.

Miss Elgin said that it was a pity for her to leave school when she was learning so much and making such satisfactory progress; but Ruth somewhat propitiated her by saying that she would work hard and keep up her studies at home.

But how little we know what the future will bring!

Just before the holidays, Ruth received a letter which contained the alarming news that one of the younger children was ill with scarlatina, and that she would be obliged to postpone her return home for at least a few weeks. She was anxious to go at once and help her mother in her work of nursing, but her parents would not allow her to run the risk of entering the infected house.

It was disappointing, more especially as she had just gained a handsome prize, which was indeed fairly hers by right of industry and patience.

Yet after all it was no great hards.h.i.+p to go to the sea-side again with her aunt and cousins to spend the summer holidays. The reports from Cressleigh were not encouraging. Letter after letter brought the news that another of the home-birds had been stricken with fever, and for a week they were all in terrible anxiety about Daisy, the youngest child and pet of the household. But her life was spared, and she began to recover slowly.

The summer days pa.s.sed quickly at the sea-side, and when September came Ruth cherished a faint hope that she might be allowed to return home. A letter from her father, however, dispelled any such idea. He said that although the invalids were going on well there was a great deal of fever in the neighbourhood, and the doctor did not consider that it would be safe for her to return for several months. He thought, therefore, that she could not do better than accept her aunt's kind offer that she should return with her to Busyborough, and continue to attend Addison College until Christmas, or even Easter.

Ruth was again disappointed, but she knew that useless murmurs would be a poor return for her aunt's kindness. So she put a brave face upon the matter, and wiped away the tears that would come. Like David of old, she encouraged herself in the Lord, and once more took up her daily duties in the form of lessons and study.

CHAPTER XX.

HOME AGAIN.

It was Easter again before Ruth was allowed to return to Cressleigh. How little she had thought when she left it that she would not see the old home and its inmates for nearly two years!

But the time had really pa.s.sed, and the day had come at last when she must bid farewell to school-days and Busyborough, and take leave of her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Partings are never pleasant when we are leaving those we love, and Ruth had grown very fond of them all during her protracted visit. Julia's animosity had been allayed long since, and Mrs. Woburn had grown to love her niece as a daughter. She had been for some time the peace-making element of the household, and a great favourite with Rupert, who was growing a fine st.u.r.dy boy. Ernest was sorry to lose her, though, as usual, he was not profuse in his expressions of regret. The shy, awkward boy was developing into a clever but somewhat reserved young man. Ruth had understood him far better than any of his own family, and he knew that he should miss her sadly.

The farewells at the house and good-byes at the railway station were painful, and it was a tearful face of which Mrs. Woburn caught a last glimpse through the carriage window; but when the train started, Ruth's mind was so full of joyful antic.i.p.ations of her welcome home that she could not feel sad. She wondered, as she leaned back and closed her eyes, what they would think of her, whether her father would think her improved or spoilt, and she began to reflect how much she had learnt, and what experience she had gained of the world and of her own heart during her absence. It seemed to her that the Ruth Arnold who had left home nearly two years ago was a very simple, ignorant little girl, whom she could think of as quite apart from herself.

So busy was she with her thoughts that she scarcely noticed her fellow-pa.s.sengers leaving the carriage one by one, until she was aroused by a cry of "All change here." Was that Crook Junction? Yes, surely.

Then she was only ten miles from home.

She hastened from the carriage to look after her luggage, and was astonished to hear a familiar voice say, "Ruth." It was her father. How kind of him to come to meet her! In a few minutes both father and daughter were seated in another carriage travelling on the loop line to Cressleigh, and Ruth was talking very fast, trying to tell all the events of two years in five minutes, and stopping again and again to ask a question or to recognise some familiar landmark.

Primroses were blooming everywhere, and the country looked gay with them.

"The children were remarking last night," said her father, "that the spring has decorated all Cressleigh in honour of your return."

"Here we are at last!" cried Ruth, as the train stopped at the well-known little station with its little garden-strip of bright flowers beside the platform. And there was Will, dear old Will, grown such a handsome fellow, waiting in the station-yard with the brown mare in the old light cart.

After a hasty greeting came the drive home along the lanes, where the trees were bursting into leaf, and the hedgerows were gay with starry blossoms, and the air was delicious after the smoke of a large town.

The children were waiting at the gate, and a little group stood in the porch to receive her. It was indeed a home-coming, and the poor girl was almost bewildered by the kissing, the waving, the shouting, the questions, the entreaties to "look at this," and "come and see that."

Mrs. Arnold was obliged to dismiss the whole party after Ruth had duly admired the floral decorations in the hall, and had commented upon the many inches added to the various members of the family during her absence, and secured her a few minutes' quiet by carrying her off to her own room.