Sick at heart, and anxious for the whole business to be over, Ruth followed her aunt and cousin into the schoolroom, where the desks had been cleared away, and the drawings and work of the pupils were arranged for exhibition.
A number of visitors had already arrived, and were walking round inspecting the drawings, etc., and chatting in little groups, until Mr. Redcliffe, a gentleman of influence and wide repute, entered the schoolroom and took his seat. He made a little speech upon the value of education, complimented Miss Elgin upon her excellent system of instruction and the proficiency of her pupils, and said a few words of congratulation and encouragement to each of the girls as they came forward to receive their prizes.
Ruth's turn came last, and perhaps on that account his words to her were even kinder and more appreciative. He considered that the prize for general improvement was perhaps better worth having than any other, because, in order to gain it, one must indeed have proved worthy, he said to the blushing girl who stood before him, trembling and full of shame, which, however, appeared to be humility.
The longed-for moment had come at last, and Ruth held in her hand the prize for which she had worked and striven. Yes, she had gained it, but at what a cost!
At the cost of truth and honour, of right principle and self-respect. It was a very poor exchange for them, and the unhappy girl would gladly have given it up, would have borne any disappointment, anything but the humiliation of confession, to have been her old light-hearted innocent self again. But she had done wrong, and although she shrank from pain, she had to bear what, in her state of mind, was indeed a trial—the kind congratulations of her school-fellows, and the praises of her teacher and friends. Even when she reached home the trial was not over, for her uncle and cousins had each some kind word to say.
"And now, my dear, you must write to your father and mother," said Mrs. Woburn that afternoon. "How proud and delighted they will be to hear of your success!"
That letter! It was the hardest task of all to write and tell her parents what she knew would give them so much pleasure, while she was concealing the fact which would, if known, give them far greater pain. She spent the afternoon writing and re-writing it, and at last sent off a stiff, constrained little note, informing them that she had been successful, and hoped they were all well.
When Mrs. Arnold received the letter, she read it again and again. She felt convinced, from the absence of any playful remarks, from Ruth's unusual brevity and lack of detail, that something was wrong; but she knew that if her daughter did not write freely she could not force her confidence. So she carried the trouble to her Heavenly Father, and asked Him to lead and guide her absent child.
Christmas was upon them almost before Ruth was aware of it, the gayest and most festive Christmas time that she had ever known, a round of parties, pleasure and merriment. It needs a mind at peace to be able to enter into and enjoy the innocent pleasures of life, and to feel no bitterness when they are past. And Ruth, in spite of the presents she received, the parties to which she was invited, and the pretty dresses she wore, was troubled in mind, and therefore unhappy.
Two things weighed heavily upon her, her own deceit, and her promise to Gerald.