CHAPTER XVI.
ASHTON RE-VISITS OLD SCENES.
A week or two after the conversation we recorded in the last chapter, Richard Ashton spoke to Mr. Gurney in regard to his contemplated journey to Rochester. He wished to go that he might settle his business with the man who had purchased his place.
Mr. Gurney was well aware that such a journey was contemplated, and he was sincerely sorry that such was the case.
Ashton, during the year that was passed, had never left the town for any purpose whatever, and had kept so strictly to his business as not to form any association with those who would be likely to lead him astray. Mr. Gurney, therefore, was not altogether satisfied that he would have strength enough to resist the temptations to which he would be exposed when he met his old associates in Rochester. He plainly told Ashton what his fear was, but the latter assured him he would pass through the ordeal and come out unscathed. So Mr. Gurney expressed the hope that he would bring his business to a successful issue, and return with improved health from his trip, and he then bade him a kindly good-bye.
But it was his wife who experienced the greatest anxiety. Ruth had from the beginning expressed her fears as to the result of the voyage. It seemed to her like courting temptation. She thought the business might have been settled through his solicitor without his going in person. But, as he seemed bent on the journey, she did not like to make many objections; she was afraid, by so doing, she would wound his feelings, for he would be certain to interpret the objections as inspired by her fears of his falling, and, strange to say, that, like a great many others in similar circumstances, he seemed to be very much hurt if anyone hinted to him that there was any danger of his drinking again.
She had, however, prevailed upon him to take Eddie along. She thought his presence would have a restraining influence upon his father, and she reasoned, if he should again fall, Eddie could, to some extent, take care of him.
The thought of this journey had so preyed upon her mind that it robbed her of her sleep; and now, as the time more nearly approached, her anxiety deepened into anguish which was all the more acute because she dare not make a confident of him from whom she kept no other secret. Only to Him from whom no thoughts are hidden, did she go and tell her anguish, and pray for strength to bear up under her great sorrow. She also prayed that God would protect him who was dearer to her than her own life.
It was nearly a year from the day in which they first landed in Bayton, when Richard Ashton was again bidding his wife and children an affectionate farewell, ere he departed on a journey to another land. It was undertaken under much more favorable auspices than when he started from Rochester to Canada; for in the first instance he was journeying to a strange land on an errand of doubtful success, while in the present instance he was going to a place with which he was familiar, where he would have old friends to bid him welcome, and kindly hearts to care for him. And yet, if possible, there was greater dread entertained by his wife now than there had been on the former occasion. Then he could scarcely make his position worse, and there was a possibility of his bettering it; now there was everything to lose and nothing to gain.
True, he had assured her she had nothing to fear. Just the night before he started he had said, as he lovingly threw his arms around her and drew her to him:—
"I know, Ruth, darling, you are suffering anxiety upon my account, and are fearing I shall not have strength to resist the temptation to which I shall be exposed; but you need not fear, little wife, I shall return as I leave you. I have made up my mind, God helping me, I will never drink again."
The tears started from Ruth's eyes as he spoke, and she threw her arms around his neck as she clung to him, sobbing as she did so. She spoke no word in denial of what he had stated concerning her fears in his behalf, but simply murmured: "God bless you, my darling; I know I am a poor, weak, foolish little thing to grieve so at parting from you; but oh, Richard, I am afraid something will happen you, and we are so happy now!"
He endeavoured to calm her by loving caresses. He was not at all surprised that his wife should be troubled with anxious fear. He inwardly resolved he would so acquit himself this time that she should ever after, in this as in other respects, repose the most perfect confidence in him.
As we said, on the morning in question he and Eddie kissed their loved ones good-bye and took the seven o'clock train for the place in which they had spent so many happy years.
The wife and mother, with her two children who had accompanied them to the station, looked at the receding train with tearful eyes.
It was a beautiful morning: the first beams of the slowly-rising sun, stealing gently above the eastern hills, scattered the mist of the morning and bathed the river and bay in its golden light. A robin, which was perched upon a maple growing not far from where Ruth and her children were standing, was singing its lay to the morning, and the atmosphere was balmy with the breath of flowers. It was a morning to charm the heart into joyousness, and yet the heart of Ruth Ashton was filled with unutterable woe. The thoughts which had borne so heavily upon her spirits for so long a period of time now came with redoubled force, and dark, dreadful forebodings and sorrowful memories assailed her soul and filled it with unspeakable anguish.
"Oh, my Father, help me to bear up!" she prayed. "Oh, why am I filled with dread, with this awful fear?"
Taking her children by the hand, she led them back to the house. They uttered no word, even little Mamie seeming to understand that her mother's heart was too full for words.