"Ruth is ambitious," I went on. "Ruth is fond of wealth and position, but she's the proudest girl I ever knew. I thought if you understood how important a part you and your attitude played in the engagement, you could act accordingly. Ruth would break it off herself, if—it sounds awfully disloyal to her—but if you made the situation uncomfortable enough for her. I'm sure of it."
Mrs. Sewall got up and walked over to the little mahogany desk.
"I was afraid the maid had already mailed it," she exclaimed, holding up the little square envelope with Ruth's name and my address upon it. "It was a note of—" she smiled wryly—"of welcome to your sister. How fortunate," she added, "that you called just when you did. It throws a different light on the matter."
I remained with Mrs. Sewall until nearly twelve o'clock. We talked the situation threadbare before I left. I told her all I knew of Ruth's hopes and visions of the future. I repeated my sister's speech to Will of the peculiar demands of her temperament. I discussed her as freely as if she were a patient with important symptoms, and Mrs. Sewall the physician. I explained the situation in Hilton, Edith's influence upon Ruth, at what a high value my sister-in-law placed Mrs. Sewall's recognition, how persistently she preached the advantage of a connection by marriage. In the face of the force of Edith's influence, I pointed out Ruth's saving traits of pride and self-esteem. Ruth was as haughty as the highest. I enlarged on the absolute impossibility of an elopement as far as my high-spirited sister was concerned. Oh, I urged Ruth's humiliation as the only hope for success!
Before I left I had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Sewall tear up my sister's card of introduction to the Sewall family, and deposit the remains in the waste-basket. As I rose to go Mrs. Sewall took my hand in both of hers. Edith, I am sure, would have been surprised if she could have witnessed such intimacy between grand Mrs. F. Rockridge Sewall and Bobbikins.
"I am so glad you came," she said. "I owe you so much. I haven't entirely decided on my exact course, but if you later hear of my opening Grassmere, do not be surprised. There may be method in my madness."
"I'll leave it all with you," I reassured her. "Only I hope you won't make it any worse for Ruth than necessary."
"I won't, my dear; and by the way, sometime when you are in Hilton, will you let me know? Or by any chance in New York? After this we surely must be friends."
"Instead of connections?" I asked.
"You would be delightful as both," she laughed, and I bade her good-bye.