CHAPTER IV.
BITTER HERBS.
THE morning of the night which had closed in gloom, opened to Ruth Erskine with a faint promise of better things. Not so much that, either; rather, she resolved on heroism. The sun shone, and the air was fresh with the breath of coming spring. The outlook seemed more hopeful. Ruth resolved upon trying Flossy’s way. She would pray about this matter; she would nerve herself for duty and trial: she would bear whatever of disagreeableness came athwart her plans. No matter how obstinate or offensive this new woman proved herself to be on the question of wardrobe, she would bravely face the ordeal, and do what she could. No amount of offensiveness should cause her to lose self-control. It was childish and useless to yield in this way, and let inevitable trials crush one. She did not mean to do it. Her father should see that she could be as strong over real trials, as Flossy Shipley could be over imaginary ones; for what had that little kitten ever had to try her? This Ruth said, with a curl of her handsome upper lip.
She went about her morning duties with something like the briskness of her old life, and settled herself to Bible-reading, resolved on finding something to help her. She had not yet learned the best ways of reading in the Bible; indeed, she had not given that subject the attention which Flossy had. To begin a chapter, and read directly and seriously through it, getting what information she could, was the most that she, as yet, knew about the matter. And the chapter occurring next to the one that she read yesterday was the fifth of Romans: “Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.” Thus on, through the solemn and wonderful chapter, heeding the words indeed; getting some sort of idea of St. Paul’s meaning, and yet not making his experience personal, in the least; not realizing that the sentence, “We have peace with God,” included Ruth Erskine; not seeing, at least, that it was a present promise, referring to present experience; not realizing anything, save a desire to be armed for unpleasant and continuous duties, and a dim idea that reading the Bible was one of the preparations which were given her to make. In much the same spirit, she knelt to pray. She was humble, she was reverent, she was in earnest, she prayed for strength, for wisdom, for patience; and the words were strictly proper, and in accordance with the desires. The prayer, to a listener, would have breathed the spirit of confidence and faith; yet it must be confessed that Ruth Erskine arose from her knees without any sense of having really communed with Christ, without any realization of his presence, and without any very definite expectation of receiving actual, practical benefit from the exercise. She did not realize the feeling, and yet she possessed somewhat of the same spirit of the child who prayed: “Dear Jesus, help me to be good to-day. I know I can be good if I try, and I intend to try; but you can help me if you want to!” Remember, I do not say that she realized it; but that does not alter the fact that she went out from her room, to meet the trials of the day, strong in the strength of her own resolves. She repaired at once to Mrs. Judge Erskine’s room, determined to be very composed and patient, and to combat whatever disagreeable or dissenting thing might be said with forbearance and kindness.
Mrs. Erskine’s objection to new and fine clothing must be overcome, but it should be done wisely. She resolved to say nothing to Susan beforehand. She would not admit, even to herself, that her father’s evident confidence in Susan’s powers was a trial to her; but, all the same, she determined to show him that she, too, had powers, and that she could manage matters without Susan’s help.
Alas for Ruth! Mrs. Erskine was not in the least averse to fine feathers. She was not lofty, nor angry, nor hurt; she was good-naturedly and ungrammatically and exasperatingly loquacious. It would have been much easier for Ruth to endure ill-temper. She was nerved for that. Unconsciously she had planned for and prayed for self-control, to enable her to endure, not what she would meet in Mrs. Erskine, but what she would have had to contend with in herself, had she been in Mrs. Erskine’s place; and as, given the same circumstances, the two would act in a totally different manner, failure was inevitable.
“Come in,” said Mrs. Erskine, heartily, in answer to Ruth’s low knock. “Land alive! come right in, don’t stop to rap. What’s the use of being so particular with one’s folks? I been a wishin’ you would run in and have a chat. I was tellin’ your pa, only last night, how chirk and nice we could all be here, if you would be sort of sociable, you know, and not so stiff and proud-like. Not that you mean to be proud, I s’pose; Susan says you don’t. She says it’s natural for some folks to be haughty. I s’pose it is. But, land alive! I’m glad I’m not one of them kind. Haughty folks always did shrivel me right up. Set down here by the fire. I think these grates is real comfortable. I told your pa, last night, that I wouldn’t have shivered over an old barn of a wood-stove, all these years, if I’d known what comfortable things there was in the world. How dreadful pale you look! Is it natural for you to look so like a ghost all the time?”
“I am not accustomed to having a great deal of color in my face, I believe,” Ruth answered, sitting squarely and stiffly in the most uncomfortable chair she could find in the room, and feeling, just then, that to be an actual ghost would be a positive relief.
“Well, now, I don’t believe it’s nature for any human being to be so like a sheet as that. If I was your pa, I’d have you through a course of medicine in less than no time. You need strengthenin’ up. You ought to have some Peruvian bark, or some quassia chips, or some kind of bitter stuff steeped up for you to drink. It would do you a power of good, I know it would. You jest let me fix you up a mess, like I do Susan, and see what it’ll do for you. S’prise your pa with the change in you, I dare say.”