“I have been wonderfully sustained, Ruth,” her father continued. “I said last night that it was almost worth losing a fortune to see how calmly the Lord Jesus could hold me. I haven’t had a doubt nor an anxiety as to its being the right way from the first hour that I knew of the loss. Of course I don’t see why it should come, and really, I don’t believe I care to know. Why should I, when I can so entirely trust to His wisdom and love? There is another thing, daughter—the sweet came with the bitter, and was so much more important that it over-balanced. Did you know that your mother had come into the sunlight of His love? She told me about it that very evening, and she says she owes her knowledge of the way to me. Isn’t that a wonderful boon for the Lord to bestow on such as I?”
Ruth turned almost away from him, with an unaccountable irritability tugging at her heart. “Your mother!” he had never used those words to her before. They had slipped out now, unconsciously. He had grown used to their sound in speaking to Susan; he did not see how they jarred. It frightened his daughter to realize how little she seemed to care whether a soul had been new-born or not; she could not take in its importance.
“I am sure I am very glad,” she said, but her voice bore not the slightest trace of gladness. Then she went home, feeling that her spirit was not in accord with the tone of that house. “He doesn’t need my comfort,” she told herself, and she said it almost bitterly. It was true enough, he didn’t. Not that he did not appreciate human sympathy and human love, but a greater than human strength had laid hold upon his weakness, and he was upborne. This, too, Ruth recognized, and even while she rejoiced in it, there mingled with the joy a strange pain.
Following the money downfall came plans that were quite in accord with her wishes. They sprang into being apparently through a chance remark. It began with Ruth, in a heavy sigh, as she said, she and Susan being alone:
“I don’t know how to take the next step for those girls. It is absurd to think of sending them to school. At their age, and with their limited knowledge, they would be simply objects of ridicule. We must find a resident governess for them. But where to look for one who will have to teach young ladies what, in these days, quite little children are supposed to know, and yet remember that they are young ladies, and treat them as such, is a puzzle. I am sure I don’t know where to look, nor how to describe what we need, the circumstances are so peculiar.”
Then she waited for Susan to answer; and so accustomed had she grown to being helped by that young lady’s suggestions, that she waited hopefully, though without having the least conception of how a comparative stranger in the city could help in this emergency.
“There are plenty to get,” Susan said. “At least I suppose the world is full of teachers, if you only knew just where to look for them.”
“Oh, teachers. Yes, there are plenty of them, if a teacher was all that was needed. But, you know, Susan, the case is a very unusual one. We really need a woman who knows a good deal about every thing, and who is as wise as a serpent. There is a chance to ruin the girls, and make trouble for Judge Burnham and misery for me, if we do not get just the right sort of person; and I am in doubt as to whether there is any right sort to be had.”
Whereupon Susan laughed, and blushed a little, as she said:
“After such an alarming statement of the requirements, I am not sure that I have the courage to propose a friend of mine. She doesn’t lay claim to any of the gifts which you suggest.”