Ruth Arnold Part 9

It was not true, but he was anxious to conciliate her.

"Well, Ruth, shall we promise each other that we won't say a word about to-night?"

"I don't know. I don't mind telling auntie what I have done, though I know it was wrong and foolish, but, of course, I don't want to get you into trouble. Yet--I can't tell lies----"

"Of course not; I wouldn't wish it. But you can be silent--yes, I believe you can--and I want you to promise me on your word as a good little cousin, that you will not mention what has happened to any one."

"Very well," she said, turning away slowly.

"Gerald, will you promise me something?"

"Anything you like."

They were almost upstairs now, and he was anxious for her to be silent.

"Promise that you won't go out at night again without letting your father know."

"I'll promise," was his whispered reply; and they separated.

Another moment, and Ruth was in her own room, but without the books for which she had gone downstairs. She had forgotten them and the translation in her astonishment about Gerald, and when she lay in bed once more her mind was full of her strange adventure, and she began to wonder if she had done right in giving her promise so quickly, without any reflection.

A promise was to her a sacred thing, not to be lightly given or easily broken, but she comforted herself with the thought that she was really doing good to her cousin. Had he not promised her in return that he would give up these forbidden pleasures? And was not that something to rejoice over?

She did not know enough of the world to reflect that one who wilfully deceived his parents was hardly likely to keep a promise so readily made to his little country cousin.

CHAPTER XV.

EXAMINATION.

After the events of that night Gerald took more notice of Ruth, spoke kindly to her, and often remarked upon her studious industry, usually to his sister's disparagement. Although she was not very fond of Julia, Ruth could not help feeling that this must be very galling to her, for Julia certainly seemed more fond of Gerald than of any other person, and she felt his sarcastic remarks very keenly.

He appeared to be keeping his promise, for he came down to breakfast in good time and did not look so pale and languid as usual. But Ruth soon forgot both Gerald and her promise for a time in a matter of great importance to herself--the school examination.

She had been working steadily throughout the term, and was very anxious to pa.s.s the examination creditably, more especially as, in addition to the usual prizes, Miss Elgin had offered one for general improvement, which she was very desirous of obtaining. It would, she knew, be such a joy to her father and mother, who were expecting great things of her, and their pride and approval would be more to her than the honour of receiving the prize.

In English studies Ruth had made very considerable progress, and did not much fear the result of the examination, but she was not so sure about French. That was always her weak point, perhaps on account of the very English fas.h.i.+on in which she had learnt it at Miss Green's. Still she persevered with it, and had some hopes of success.

But when the hour of the examination came, and the papers were given out, her courage almost failed.

There were grammatical questions, phrases to be explained, and short sentences to be translated into French. These she understood fairly, but the paragraph that filled her with dismay was a short French poem of three verses to be put into English prose. She read it again and again, but, from the idioms and inversions it contained, totally failed to comprehend its meaning. Indeed, she could see from the significant glances which--talking being forbidden--were exchanged between the girls, that she was not the only one who failed to appreciate the beauty, or even the sense of the poem.

"It's of no use," she sighed; "I must leave it and answer some questions. If I have time afterwards, I may, perhaps, do one verse."

For a whole hour there was not a sound to be heard but the scratching of busy pens and the rustling of papers or the tapping of idle fingers, waiting to put down the thoughts that would not come.

Julia was writing very fast. She was more proficient in French than in any other study. She liked it, and easily caught the sounds, and was very proud of the fact that she had once spent a few days in Paris with her mother. She had also profited by her friends.h.i.+p with a French girl, one of Miss Elgin's boarders, who had come to the place quite unable to speak English. Julia had taken a fancy to mademoiselle, and in conversation with her picked up several unusual phrases, and became familiar with many of the idioms, though her knowledge of the grammar was still very meagre.

The poem which perplexed the other girls was less difficult to her than the grammatical questions, and she wrote away busily translating it. She was seated at a desk just in front of Ruth, who looked up after writing her answers, wondering what she could do about the poem. The time allowed for the paper was drawing to a close. Julia had finished her translation, and was holding it in her hand, reading it over to see if it required any correction. Her writing was large, firm, and clear, and as she held up the paper Ruth's eye fell upon it, and, almost unconsciously, she read the whole of her cousin's translation.

The meaning of the poem was no longer a mystery to her. She understood it now, and could easily translate it.

Without stopping to think if it were right or wrong, she seized her pen and wrote the words as they came to her mind. Naturally enough they were almost identical with those she had read on her cousin's paper. But she did not stop to think, and had scarcely finished the last word when the clock struck, and the papers were immediately collected, Ruth's not having been even read over.

"How many questions did you answer?" "What have you done?" "How _did_ you get on with that dreadful translation?" asked the girls of each other when school hours were over and their tongues were once more unloosed.

"I suppose that you have done it, Julia, you are so clever at French,"

said Ethel.

"It really wasn't difficult," replied Julia carelessly. "What have you done, Ruth?"

"I think I answered nearly all the questions," was the reply.

"And the poem?"

"Yes, I did it."

Julia looked rather surprised, but she said nothing, though several of the girls were loud in their exclamations of wonder that Ruth should even have attempted it.

She listened rather impatiently to their remarks, for already she felt ashamed of the advantage she had taken, and would gladly have seized the paper upon which her translation was written and thrown it upon the fire.

But it had gone out of her possession and was hers no longer.

CHAPTER XVI.

A DOWNWARD STEP.

"I can't think what has happened to Ruth, she is not at all like her usual self," remarked Ernest that evening.

He had been playfully teasing his cousin about her studies, when she suddenly answered him sharply, burst into a violent flood of tears, and ran away to her own room.

"She is crosser than ever," said Julia.

"Poor child!" sighed Mrs. Woburn; "I am afraid she has been working too hard. I am glad for her sake that the holidays are so near. She is so anxious to do well, and to-day's examination has tried her sadly."

Meanwhile Ruth, upstairs in her own room, was sobbing bitterly, and thinking hard thoughts of herself. The examination _had_ tried her, but not half as much as the loss of self-respect she had felt since she gave up her papers that morning with the translation which was certainly not the result of her own work.

"I wish I had never left home," she thought; "everything is going wrong, it is so difficult to do right here. If only I had not seen Julia's translation. If I had never promised Gerald that I would not mention about his coming in so late. Oh, I wish I were back at Cressleigh!"

With the thought of home, which to her troubled mind seemed so calm and peaceful, came the remembrance of her mother's words, "I should have no fear for you if I were sure that you were not going alone, if I knew that you had an almighty Friend with you to lead you in the right way."