It was disappointing, more especially as she had just gained a handsome prize, which was indeed fairly hers by right of industry and patience.
Yet after all it was no great hardship to go to the sea-side again with her aunt and cousins to spend the summer holidays. The reports from Cressleigh were not encouraging. Letter after letter brought the news that another of the home-birds had been stricken with fever, and for a week they were all in terrible anxiety about Daisy, the youngest child and pet of the household. But her life was spared, and she began to recover slowly.
The summer days passed quickly at the sea-side, and when September came Ruth cherished a faint hope that she might be allowed to return home. A letter from her father, however, dispelled any such idea. He said that although the invalids were going on well there was a great deal of fever in the neighbourhood, and the doctor did not consider that it would be safe for her to return for several months. He thought, therefore, that she could not do better than accept her aunt's kind offer that she should return with her to Busyborough, and continue to attend Addison College until Christmas, or even Easter.
Ruth was again disappointed, but she knew that useless murmurs would be a poor return for her aunt's kindness. So she put a brave face upon the matter, and wiped away the tears that would come. Like David of old, she encouraged herself in the Lord, and once more took up her daily duties in the form of lessons and study.
CHAPTER XX.
HOME AGAIN.
It was Easter again before Ruth was allowed to return to Cressleigh. How little she had thought when she left it that she would not see the old home and its inmates for nearly two years!
But the time had really passed, and the day had come at last when she must bid farewell to school-days and Busyborough, and take leave of her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Partings are never pleasant when we are leaving those we love, and Ruth had grown very fond of them all during her protracted visit. Julia's animosity had been allayed long since, and Mrs. Woburn had grown to love her niece as a daughter. She had been for some time the peace-making element of the household, and a great favourite with Rupert, who was growing a fine sturdy boy. Ernest was sorry to lose her, though, as usual, he was not profuse in his expressions of regret. The shy, awkward boy was developing into a clever but somewhat reserved young man. Ruth had understood him far better than any of his own family, and he knew that he should miss her sadly.
The farewells at the house and good-byes at the railway station were painful, and it was a tearful face of which Mrs. Woburn caught a last glimpse through the carriage window; but when the train started, Ruth's mind was so full of joyful anticipations of her welcome home that she could not feel sad. She wondered, as she leaned back and closed her eyes, what they would think of her, whether her father would think her improved or spoilt, and she began to reflect how much she had learnt, and what experience she had gained of the world and of her own heart during her absence. It seemed to her that the Ruth Arnold who had left home nearly two years ago was a very simple, ignorant little girl, whom she could think of as quite apart from herself.