He started, but his hand on my head only moved slightly; then its gentle pressure was renewed, and he said, quietly, "Tell me all about it, Ruth. Stop; come up stairs to my own sitting-room. You can talk quietly there."
IN MR. LUDLOW'S STUDY—Drawn by E. A. Abbey.
I followed him gladly enough. Mr. Ludlow's little den was a very sacred place to all of us. There we knew that he read and wrote and studied. I had only seen the room once from the doorway. I did not remember what I now noticed, with a start, that above the mantel hung an exquisite crayon of Hunt's "Light of the World." There were candles lighted on either side of it, and their gleam touched the Divine face tenderly. I never forgot just that moment. I needed so to feel His mercy, and here I seemed to read it, with love and compassion as well. Mr. Ludlow made me sit down, and I told my story, and then I wrung my hands, and asked, miserably, what was I to do. He was very grave and earnest and kind, and said words which I yet hold as counsels for daily life; but he took the case into his own hands kindly. Of course, he said, I must go home at once. He asked me if he might call Kate up stairs, and counsel with her. I assented gladly, and I think he told Kate all about it before she came into the room, for she had her advice all ready. She said that I could go home by an early morning train, and leave her to explain my sudden departure to the girls. "And another time, Ruthie," she said, "you will come and have a longer visit." She said very little of my fault; but late that night, after all the merry-making was over, she came and knelt beside me, and we prayed a little together. After all, that miserable day had held moments which were to be life-long influences. It was arranged that Mr. Ludlow should take me home, and after a few hours' sleep, Kate wakened me. I went down in the early morning to a little breakfast, and then started off with my kind friend. I never shall forget that journey. My heart beat with nervous apprehension as we neared home. Mr. Ludlow had telegraphed ahead, and the boy with papa's gig was waiting. In answer to my inquiries, he said Miss Winny was very ill, and at the house door papa's face confirmed my fears.
Shall I ever forget my feelings as I entered Winny's room, and saw her lying on her bed, so changed that she turned nearly sightless eyes upon me. Oh, how I hated myself for all the trouble I had given her! Days and nights passed as though in a dream, and through God's mercy Winny lived, but never to be very strong and well, never to entirely resume her old place at our head. Kate Ludlow came up and nursed her through those many weeks. She taught me many things to do, and contrived to place a great deal in my hands.
I think it was a year later, when Winny had gone off to the country with the Ludlows, that I received a package from Mr. Ludlow containing an engraving like the one in his room. With it were the following lines:
"Dear Ruth,—Will you keep this from me in remembrance of last year, and as a sign that I believe you will keep your high resolves? When I bring Winny home, I shall have something to tell you."
And so he had. A week later he and Winny arrived, and almost the first thing she did was to put her arms about me and tell me the news. She was engaged to be married to my kind friend.
Aunt Ruth paused in her story. Evening had come on while she finished it, and the room was too dark for us to see her face.