Ruth Arnold

by Lucy Byerley

When Mr. Woburn spoke in that decided way there was nothing to be done but to obey. His wife, however, called upon Miss Elgin, and explained the reason of Julia's absence, begging that she would ask the girls to receive her kindly, without referring to the cause of the quarrel, as she had already suffered a good deal.

Miss Elgin was astonished to hear of the affair, which had perplexed and puzzled her not a little; for, as her pupils had all felt themselves more or less to blame in the matter, they had all kept it from her knowledge, and she had only guessed from their reticence, and the air of mystery with which they received every allusion to their absent school-fellow, that something was wrong. Before morning school she called the girls together, told them how pained and grieved she had been, and gave them a little lecture upon the duty of ruling the tongue, and the folly of valuing people only for their wealth or position instead of their goodness and virtue. The girls listened in silence, and when Julia returned, looking very much ashamed and humbled after her vain boasting, they made no allusion to her fiery outburst, and in a few days she had regained her old place in the school and everything went on as usual.

Lessons, classes, exercises, and lectures were crowded into each day. Ruth had plenty to do, and found that she must work very hard if she wished to succeed, and to take a good place in the school. She was astonished to see how indolent some of the girls were; to find that many of them did not care for knowledge for its own sake, but regarded their lessons as a trouble, and were continually begging to be allowed to leave off this or that study. And she was still more surprised and shocked to find how many of the exercises were merely copied from old books, with perhaps a few slight mistakes inserted to prevent suspicion. On more than one occasion, Ruth gave offence by refusing to lend her books for this purpose, or to avail herself of proffered assistance; but she persevered steadily, and declared that she would rather make a few mistakes than evade a difficulty which she could not surmount, as she would be sure to meet it again.

Miss Elgin was not long in perceiving that Ruth was a conscientious girl, anxious to learn, and in many little ways she contrived to help and encourage her.

As the weather grew colder and winter advanced, the old home-life at the farm seemed very far away, and somehow the home letters were not so full of interest as they had once been. How trivial and childish it seemed to read about the new kittens, the chickens, the nuts in the woods, and the apples in the orchard, and the many little details with which the children's letters were filled, when one was studying chemistry and reading Milton and Shakespeare. Her mother's letters were always welcome, but they were very rare.

The comfort and luxury of her new home were beginning to make a visible alteration in her. Already she looked and felt quite a different person from the little Ruth Arnold who sometimes milked the cows, or helped with the house-work when the servants were busy. Her brown curls had long since given place to a long plait like Julia's, her clothes were of richer materials and made in a more fashionable style, and she had what seemed at first an abundant supply of pocket-money. The only day on which she really longed to be back at Cressleigh was Sunday. It had always been such a happy day at the farm, the only rest day of the busy father and mother, and always spent with the children. There were of course certain duties which could not be neglected, but these were quickly done, and then the whole family went together to the house of God. In the afternoon the children all went to Sunday-school, where Will was promoted to the post of teacher, and Mr. and Mrs. Arnold had a quiet hour together with no one but the baby to disturb them. There was rarely any service in the evening, but it was a pleasant time for the children, who in fine summer weather sat on the lawn and sang their favourite hymns, or on winter evenings gathered round the old piano in the well-worn parlour while their mother or Ruth played, or listened while their father talked or read some good and interesting book. All went to bed early, and rose in the morning refreshed and strengthened by the joy and repose of the day of rest.

But Sunday at Busyborough was quite a different matter. Every one was expected to attend public worship once during the day, but Gerald was often missing, and the others did not appear to take much pleasure in going. Mr. Woburn had a pew in a handsome church close by, and also at a large Nonconformist chapel in the neighbourhood. His wife usually attended the latter, but Julia preferred the church, where the service was very elaborate. She hated long sermons, she said, and liked to have something to look at. Ruth accompanied her once or twice, but found the morning service, to which she had been accustomed all her life, so differently rendered that at first she could hardly follow it. The dear old Psalms, which had always been read at Cressleigh by the clergyman and the people led by the parish clerk, sounded so strange and unfamiliar when chanted by a surpliced choir. The intoning, the processions, and everything else, were so strange, that Ruth was afraid to join in the service.

After going a few times she decided to accompany her aunt, for although the service of the chapel was unfamiliar she was able to enter into the spirit of it, and could appreciate and enjoy the sermon delivered by a clever and eloquent preacher.

The family dined early on Sundays, and then the miserable part of the day began for Ruth. There was "nothing to do on Sundays," Julia said, and indeed there seemed to be no occupation provided. No one thought of going to Sunday-school, as Ruth had once timidly suggested, although Julia sometimes went to church when there was a special musical service. At other times she would begin to read; then she would fidget or strum on the piano, greatly to the annoyance of her father, who always took a Sunday afternoon nap, and of Ernest, who buried himself in a book. Gerald went out, Rupert got into all sorts of mischief, and Ruth was left to her own devices.

In the evening the girls wrote their Scripture exercises, under cover of which Julia often did other lessons, though this was quite contrary to the express orders of her father, who was very anxious that his children should have a "proper regard for the day." There was continual bickering, many disputes and petty quarrels, and when bed-time came every one was weary and cross, and seemed glad the day was over. No wonder that Ruth often longed and sighed for one of the happy old Sundays at home.