Then the major, his heart made very tender by memories of the past, was ready to visit the invalid.
John Rudd had always been a quiet man, but willful and determined to succeed in whatever he undertook. He was not bad at heart, and when a wrong act was committed it was invariably caused by obstinacy. He usually quickly repented of his course, and made all reparation in his power.
Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Benson did not like him as well as he had hoped, he determined to marry Ruth, and to prohibit all intercourse with her family. In everything else he was thoroughly honorable, but he tenaciously held to this point. Ruth Benson, loving him devotedly, and believing all he said or did was infallible, implicitly obeyed this strange request without a question, and neither did she hear of or from her parents.
That the unnecessary sacrifice did not add to her happiness, was proven by the fact that she lost her free, light-hearted ways, and became quiet and melancholy, after a year or two of married life. Her husband was proud—too proud to admit that he had made a mistake, until it was too late for such an admission to do any good, and so after a few years she died, leaving behind her little namesake, Ruth. She seemed to have transmitted to the child in a large measure her own disposition, for Ruth was always a grave, silent, little thing, entirely unlike other children, and quite old for her years.
It was nice too, she possessed such a sweet disposition and even temper, for when her father brought home a new mother for the little Ruth, many changes were made in the home, and great would have been the discord but for Ruth's peaceful characteristics. Shortly after his second marriage, John Rudd moved to Bartonville, whether for business openings, or to be near the early home of Ruth's mother, no one ever knew.
Ruth knew the story of her mother's married life, of the home of her girlhood, and of the kind parents, but she did not know where the home was.
Whatever the reason for his coming, it was well for Ruth and Jem, for as I have said, provision was now made for them both at Major Joe's farm.
Ruth's life thus far, since the cares of the home were put upon her at the death of Jem's mother, had been an uneventful one. She had no companion but her little sister, who so filled her brain, and heart, and time, that she had no opportunity to grow lonesome. Personally, Ruth would have felt happier if her father had allowed the love, she doubted not he held for her, to find expression in a word of praise, a tender kiss, or appreciation of her efforts. But her father never thought of this longing of his daughter: he was so self-contained himself, and unemotionally inclined, that he could not have understood this craving, even had he known of its existence, which it is needless to say, he did not.
It was rather hard for so young a girl to persevere in her home-making with such a singleness of purpose as Ruth displayed, to give up her beloved studies without a sigh of regret, and to strive to train her younger sister, knowing she would receive no word of approbation from her father.