New Bed-Time Stories

by Louise Chandler Moulton

Sometimes I would find a bunch of roses on my desk, for it was June when our quarrel took place, and all the roses were in bloom. Then, later, I would lift up the desk cover and come upon an early apple or a peach; later still, a handful of chestnuts. I always let the roses wither without touching them; and the fruit I gave away, as if unconscious where it came from. Ruth would watch me and sigh; but after that first morning she never spoke to me. I think my rebuff then hurt her too much for her to be willing to risk receiving such another. What a strange, new, sad thing it was to get our lessons, as we did now, all alone! How the hateful figures tormented me, without Ruth’s quick brain to help me unravel them! How puzzled she looked, as I saw her holding the map close to her near-sighted eyes, trying to find the rivers and lakes and mountains all by herself!

It was a curious thing that after the first two or three days my anger had passed away entirely. I held no longer the least bitterness in my heart toward Ruth; and yet I felt that I must keep my word. I looked upon my rash utterance as a vow, for which I had a sort of superstitious reverence. Then, too, there was a queer, evil kind of pride about me,—something that wouldn’t let me speak to her when I had said I wouldn’t,—wouldn’t let me show her that I was sorry. The teacher spoke to me about the trouble between me and Ruth, but he might as well have spoken to a blank wall,—I did not even answer him. Whether he said any thing to Ruth I do not know.

In the late fall there was a vacation, which held over Thanksgiving. I had an idea that my mother watched me curiously to see how I would pass those weeks without Ruth. But I was resolute to show no pain or loneliness. I made occupations for myself. I read; I worked worsted; I crocheted; I copied out poems in my common-place book; I was busy from morning till night. One thing I did not do,—I did not take another friend in Ruth’s stead. Several of the girls had shown themselves willing to fill the vacant place, but they soon found that “No admittance here” was written over the door. I think they tried the same experiment with Ruth, with the same result. At any rate, each of us went on our solitary way, quite alone. Ruth had her own pride, too, as well as I; and, after a little while, she would no more have spoken to me than I to her; but she could not help those great, dark eyes of hers resting on me sometimes with a wistful, inquiring look, that almost brought the tears to mine.

School commenced again the first of December. Ruth came, the first day, in her new winter dress. It was a deep, rich red; and somehow she made me think of the spicy little red roses of Burgundy, that used to grow in my grandmother’s old-fashioned garden. My own new gown was blue. For the first time in years, Ruth and I were dressed differently. We were no longer “the twins.” I thought Ruth looked a little sad. She was very grave. I never heard her laugh in these days. When it rained or snowed, and we stayed at school through the noonings, instead of going home for our dinner, neither of us would join in the games that made the noontime merry. I suppose each was afraid of too directly encountering the other.

But when the good skating came, both of us used to be on the pond. The whole school, teacher and all, would turn out on half holidays. Both Ruth and I were among the best skaters in school My father had taught us, two or three winters before, and we had had great pride in our skill. We had always skated in company before; but now, as in every thing else we did, we kept at a distance from each other.

The pond used to be a pretty sight, on those crisp, keen winter afternoons, all alive with boys and girls. A steep hill rose on one side of it, crowned by a pine wood, green all the winter through. Great fields of snow stretched far and away on the other side, and in the midst was the sheet of ice, smooth as glass. Here was a scarlet hood, and there a boy’s gay Scotch cap. Here some adventurer was cutting fantastic capers; there a girl was struggling with her first skates, and falling down at almost every step. I loved the pastime,—the keen, clear air, the swift motion, the excitement. I loved to watch Ruth, too, for by this time not only was all the bitterness gone from my heart, but the old love was welling up, sweet and strong, though nothing would have made me acknowledge it to myself. Wherever she moved, my far-sighted eyes followed her; and, indeed, she was a pretty sight, the prettiest there, in her bright scarlet skating dress, and with her cheeks scarcely less scarlet, and her great eyes bright as stars.

There came a day, at last, when we promised ourselves an afternoon of glorious skating. The ice was in excellent condition, the sky was cloudless, the weather cold, indeed, but not piercing, and the air exhilarating as wine. I ate my dinner hurriedly—there was no time to lose out of such an afternoon. I rose from the table before the rest, put on my warm jacket and my skating-cap, and was just leaving the house when my father called after me.

“Be very careful of the west side of the pond, Sue. They have been cutting a good deal of ice there.”

The whole school was out; only when I first got there I did not see Ruth. The teacher repeated to us what my father had said, but I remembered afterward that it was not till he had done speaking that Ruth came in sight, looking, in her bright scarlet, like some tropical bird astray under our pale northern skies. As usual she and I began skating at some distance from each other, but gradually I drew nearer and nearer to her. I had no reason for this. I did not mean to speak to her, and the pride that held me from her was as untamed as ever. But yet something for which I could not account drew me towards her.

Did she see me, and wish to avoid me? I did not know; but suddenly she began to skate swiftly away from me, and toward the dangerous west side of the pond. I think I must have called, “Come back! come back!” but if I did, she did not heed or hear. She was skating on, oh, so fast! I looked around in despair—I was nearer to her than any one else was. I shouted, with all my might, to Mr. Hunt, the teacher. I thought I saw him turn at the sound of my voice, but I did not wait to be sure. I just skated after Ruth.