"I have a good caretaker in you," said he, coming back to her.
Ruth helped him to put on the coat, mounting on a chair for that purpose, and wrapped the comforter round his neck, tucking in the ends snugly.
"Now you may go," said she; "but don't stay out very late, please."
"Bless the child's sweet face!" muttered Ralph. "She certainly grows more like my Annie every day, or else I fancy it as I grow fonder of her. Well, the time has come for me to decide. I can't let things drift any longer, for she won't, the little creature. I must do either one thing or the other, and I'll make up my mind before I eat another meal. I'll go into the Forest—it will be quiet there—and think."
He walked along the forest road until he reached the place where he had found the children on that bright sunny Sunday when he first brought them to his home. This was a still, grey day, very unlike that other, but it was not very cold, here among the trees. Ralph clambered up the bank, found the fallen tree, and seated himself upon it. There he remained deep in thought for some time: then he rose and paced to and fro, then sat down again. At last, he covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud, "I can't! I can't do it!" But even as he said the words he knew and felt that he could do it.
Ralph had been reading his Bible to better purpose lately than when he only searched for texts wherewith to confound Mrs. Cloudesley. He had learned many lessons during the last few months. To distrust himself; to fear that he might be mistaken, and May Cloudesley right; to wish earnestly to do what God would have him do, and to ask for help to do it;—all this and more had Ralph Trulock learned, partly from May, partly from Ruth, but still more from his Bible, which had begun to take such new meanings lately. And now he asked for guidance, and felt that he had it—that he knew what he ought to do; now he asked for strength to do it, and even while he said aloud, "I cannot," he felt that he could. And when at last, he walked home, very tired and worn with the conflict, he went up to his own room and, without waiting to take off his great-coat, wrote the following letter:
"Lady Mabel's Rest,"
"Fairford."
"MY DEAR ARNOTT,—"
"I never wrote to thank you, and those who joined you, in writing to Mr. Barton on my behalf; but I hope you will forgive me, and let me explain why I did not write, and thank you all now."
"When I first came here, I had no intention of accepting your kindness except for a time. My health was broken, and I was unfit for work; but I had made up my mind to save every penny I could until I had paid off the small sum still remaining due to all of you with whom I used to have dealings; and then, if my strength would permit, leave this place, and look out for some small situation as clerk or caretaker, which would support me. With these plans before me, I did not write. I felt sore and angry at needing even temporary help, and soothed my pride by continually telling myself that in the end you, and not I, should be the gainer."
"But God in His mercy has led me, by means into which I cannot enter (as it would take up so much of your time) to see that such a state of feeling is not right in His eyes. I am old and feeble now, and you all meant to secure peace and comfort for one whom you had known long, and who had been unfortunate. It was nothing but pride that made me resist this kind feeling, as I acknowledge I once did, and determine not to profit by it. I see this now."
"So I write to thank you, and through you, if you will allow me, my other creditors, for your kind consideration, which I thankfully accept; and the benefits which you have secured to me I hope henceforth to share with others even more helpless than I am myself."
"I remain,"
"Very faithfully yours,"
"RALPH TRULOCK."
Ralph put his letter into a cover and addressed it, but did not close it. Next day he went to the garden and asked if he might keep Ollie,—Ruth he had a right to keep, as his housekeeper, or "gel," as Mrs. Short put it. The warden said he was sure there would be no difficulty about it, and promised to arrange it all, for him. Then Ralph toiled up the hill to High Fairford, and went to see Mrs. Cloudesley.
"Madam," said he, "as long ago as last Christmas you said a few words to me, to which I would scarcely listen at the time, but which I could not forget, though I surely did my best. You spoke to me of my pride, of which up to that time I had been very proud; you spoke to me of love and kindness—things I had hardly thought of for years. You advised me to help some one, and that I should find my heart growing softer—and you were right, madam. I began to search the Bible for something to justify my own opinion, and I could not find what I wanted; but I found a great deal about love and humility. And Ruth Garland, madam, has taught me much. If you will kindly look over this letter, you will see that I am in earnest."
May, with tears in her eyes, took the letter and read it. Then she looked up at him with a smile upon her pleasant face, though the tears were there still.