"But—mother—you don't think of letting me go, do you?" asked Ruth, almost over-whelmed with pleasure and surprise.
"I don't know. Your father thinks it would be good for you, but I am not sure, Ruth. I am afraid whether, after living in a handsome well-appointed house, waited upon by servants, and surrounded with comforts and luxuries, you would grow discontented with our quiet country life. I know you love your home now, but I fear lest a life in town should spoil you, and make you no longer our little Ruth, but a grown-up young lady, who would feel herself above our simple joys and pleasures, and only bring herself to tolerate them from a sense of duty."
"Mother, mother!" cried Ruth, bursting into tears, "don't talk so. I'll never go away. How can you think so of me?"
"Perhaps I have done wrong to say so much to you, darling," replied her mother; "but I must tell you that your father does not fear anything of the sort for you. He says that you need to go to a good school, and that he is thankful for the opportunity which is now offered. He feels sure that you would be happy with his sister, and does not fear your growing discontented with home. Besides, as he says, when you come back you will be able to teach the younger children, and that will be a good object to have in view while you are studying. So we have determined to leave it for you to decide. We will give you to-day to think it over, and to-morrow you must tell us what you wish to do. Pray over it, Ruth, and don't let anything I have said prejudice you against the idea of going. Indeed, dear," she added in a lower tone, "I don't think I should have any fear for you if I were sure that you were not going alone, if I knew that you had an almighty Friend to be with you and guide you in the right way."
It was very rarely that Mrs. Arnold said so much to any of her children, and Ruth was quite overcome. She ran off to her own little room to give vent to her feelings, and to think over all that she had heard.
CHAPTER III.
RUTH'S DECISION.
For the first few moments Ruth felt quite determined not to leave home; but as she thought over the advantages and disadvantages of the plan her resolution wavered. How often she had wished, though vainly, to go to a good boarding-school! and now there was an opportunity for her to have a twelvemonth's education, without the great drawback of living at school among strangers and losing the comforts and freedom of home. It was true that she had only seen her aunt for a short time several years before, and her cousins were quite unknown, except for the short notes she usually received at Christmas, with a present from Julia. Still they were relatives, and would not regard her as a stranger.
There were so many arguments for accepting her aunt's invitation: the pleasure of the sea-side trip, the change, the novelty of living in a town, of having Julia for a companion and many school-fellows of her own age; of exchanging Miss Green's school, with its catechisms and needlework, for a young ladies' college, with its modern plans of study, its classes and professors. And all these inducements had the charm of being new and untried, so that only their agreeable side appeared to view, the other being unknown.