Ernest made no remark, though he listened attentively to the conversation.
The visit to Miss Elgin, which Mrs. Woburn did not consider necessary, was a very trying ordeal. She certainly did not make light of the matter, although she did not think it would be advisable to tell the girls; it would be sufficient for them to know that Ruth was under her displeasure.
"I feared at first that there was something wrong," she said, "but I could not doubt your word, Ruth; I have always trusted to your high principle and honour. Henceforth I must act differently, and you must not expect to be trusted."
There was no palliation of the offence, which she surveyed from her high stand-point of justice alone.
"Now, Ruth, your troubles are over," said her aunt gaily as they returned home.
"Over! Are they?" she sighed wearily to herself, "when I have to write home, and to live next term under Miss Elgin's displeasure, and all my life with the remembrance of this behind me!"
It was a great trial to have to write home to dispel her mother's fond hopes and her father's pride in her; to tell them that their Ruth was not the frank, open, truth-loving girl they had always believed her; to prove to them that one of their children could stoop to equivocation and deceit. Yes, it was a hard and bitter task, and she shed a good many tears over it as she wrote, almost oblivious of everything else in the little study, where the traces of the fire still remained.
Presently she raised her head, and saw Ernest looking at her—not curiously, but with a kind, compassionate gaze.
"Ruth," he said, in a low tone, "I am awfully sorry for you, but I can't understand why you should be so unhappy now."
"I shall always be wretched," said Ruth bitterly; "all my life, I expect."