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 passed, 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 sturdy 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 anticipations 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-passengers 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.
How tiny and bare it looked after her comfortable, pretty room at Busyborough, and yet so snug and sweet! How delightfully fresh was the breeze that blew about the white dimity curtains, and what a wide range of country she could see instead of a vista of windows, roofs, and chimney-pots! Yes, indeed, though simple and plain, it was "Home, sweet home," and there was no other place in the world like it.
Tea followed, a merry, noisy meal, for every one had so much to say, and although Ruth talked very fast she was not able to reply to half the questions that were put to her. But the exertion and excitement of the day had made her feel weary, and she was thankful when the evening drew to a close, and her father took down the big Bible and read a psalm; and in the prayer that followed he gave thanks for her safe return, and prayed that she might be a comfort and blessing to all the household. When Ruth lay in her little bed that night her last conscious thought was of the day's changes and the morrow's duties, and she asked that He who had guided her in the past would be with her in the future, and that He would help her in her work as the eldest daughter at home, as He had guided and helped her in her life at Busyborough as The Country Cousin.