Ruth's Romance

CHAPTER VIII. As the days went by, Aunt Rachel feit sun that what she liopcii "for en mnch would com to pass. Artliur and Ruth wcrf togethcr a great deal. and it was plain to f ee that between them therc cxisted a strong friendship from the beginning. It was easy for such friendship to ripen inte love, wheu circumstanees threw them into each other's eompany almost constantlv. So urged Aunt Rachel. She had watched Ruth closelv after the receipt of Mrs. Nugent's letter. " For the first ievv days there had been traces of a struggle with herself in Ruth's face, which eyes sharpened by a knowledge of the faets eoufd easily detect. But Arthur, ignorant of it all, never buspeeted what made the girl more grave an-1 thoughtful than she had ecemed at first. It might be a phase of her character wbieh he was discovering for the first time. Ruth had fought her battle bravely, and come oil conquiror - that ie, in a degree. There was a sore spot in her heart yet, and it seemedto her there al ivays must be. But she had developed strength enough to rise above her disappointment, and face the truth unflinchingly. She eould fight the battle of life single-hamled. Because she was a woman, she would not sit down idle. Because so ma,ny womeu 6hrank fcom doing fthe work they might do, and the work they ought to do, " she helieved, she would take her fortune bravelr in her own hands, and prove to the world that she was not like them. She had a living to earn. She would earn it like a woman ! As the days went by and her month of rest irew near its end, she became conscious that what she had hoped ogainst, had happencd. Arthur loved her. Perhaps it seems strange to some reader that this young woman, who bad been deceived in the man she loved, should hope against being loved by a man she firmly believed to be the soul of truth and honor. It was not at all strange that Ruth should do this. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Sht had not that kind of heart which can love one man to-day, and another man to-morrow. She had respect and friendship for Arthur, but she had no love togive him. "That had been given to Robert Haviland. The knowledge that Arthur loved her brought a keen pain with it. To know that she must say no to his offer, if it came, and ehe knew it would, troubled her. Because her own heart had been hurt so eruelly, she was tenderly considérate of the hearts of others. Once, and once only, she asked herself if it was necessary that she should say no to Arthur's plea. She could give him complete trust, and as much respect as she eould have given Robert if he had become her hushanrl Ami aunt Rachel wished it. But her heart, sternly true to its scr.se of honor, eaid No! She had no loTe to p,ive. No woman had any richt to inarrya man she did not love. lí she did ko, ehe wronged the man she married, and was guilty before God. They were climbing one of the erreat bilis that clasped hand with othei hills, and made ft oircle to gird Winsted in from the outside world, when Arthur told her that he loved her and asked her to be his wife. They had come to a fallen tree half-way un fhe elope. "Let ns rest." Ruth said. "It's hard work to climb." "It is, if you climb alone," responded Arthur. 'You have persisted in refusing all my offers L assistance." "I like to feel that I am not dependent on anyone but myself," answered Ruth. 'Of course it affords one a certain sovt of satisfaction to feel that he is not obliged to depend on anyone but himself ; but I think all of us like to be helped by somebody else," Arthur said. "It may not be" beeause we need the help, but therc is a 6ense of sympathy and comradeship in it which it is natural for everyone to long after. We don't like to go alone." "No," Bhe said, looking down the hillinto the quiet of the valley. "We do not like to "o alone. But many ofus must." She said this like one talking to herself, and a grave shadow rathered in her eyes. There were times when she looked anead, and saw the way she mustgo tn lcneliness; and the prospect wasdreary. She was looking down the path now. It s'eemed drearier than ever. She shivered when she thought of the tunes that would come, when she gi-ew weary and longed for a etrong arm to lean upon. To put out one's hand, and find nothing! The thought brought a look of pain into her face. "Ruth," Arthur said, sitting down besidehcr, "I made up my mind thls morning to teil you that I love you. What bctter time than thisf I do love you, and I want you for my wife. llav I have you, Ruth? Shall we climb the hill tógether?" "Oh, Arthur!" she cried, and her eyes Hlled Tith tears, as she looked into the hoñest face that was turned so hopefully to hers. "I am sorry, very sorry, that you ever asked this,- for it cannot be as you woúld have ft." The eager, confldcnt light died suddenlv out of his face. "Do you mean it, Ruthr' he asked, brokenlv. "Ten, or I would not have said it," 6he añswered. "I have, in ai: the world, no dearer friend than you. If I ever need help, I shall turn to you lirst of all. liut I have not that love to ?iv you which a woman should give the man Bhe marries." He turned his face to the hill-tops across the valley, and there was a silence of manvmoments between tliem. She was the flrst to break it. "Perhaps I ought to teil yon whv I mean to climb the hill alone," she sáid. "Í5ut- 1 would rather not. Only I thought yon liad muro of ;i right to know than any one èlse." "I do not ask you to teil me anythin,"' he said. "It (loes not matter why you have determined to climb alone, iL that dètêrmination eannot be clianged, and you cannot climb with me." "Thcn I will not teil yon," she said. "But 1 ¦1)1 teil you thls.j Arthur, for no man living have I more regard than for you. Wil] thal make the disappointment any the less hard to bearí I shnll alwavs considur vou as niv best frk-nd." " ¦ "Well, we will be friends, Uien, if wc eannot bomore toeach othcr,"hc said, and held out his hand to her. "I had hoped- " and thcn he shut his lips together, as if to keep baek the words which would struggls up to them for expression. Siuce he had hoped ia vain, irhat use to talk of lt. "And so have others," she said, as she laid her hand in his warm clasp. And f rom theway she said it, he knew that back of her refusal lay a reason that was full of sorrow and pain. They went down the hill-pathsilently. Xeithor cared to talk. There are some troubles which can best be born in silence. Thls whs ono of them. Arthur's face had such a grave, dl6appointed look in it- so unlike its usuai light-heartcdness - that Kuth's eycs would fill when she looked at it. A fragment of au old song camo to her. ';The tender beart, the truc heart Is light as any feather ; But it is faithful to its own In any kind of weather." ''His heart would be truc, I know," she thought ; "oh ! if Robert had boen as true I" Aunt Rachel stood on the. piazza when they came up the path. "l lwvo plannert anrt filed," she Raid, wheti she had looked into their faoee, and lurncd tvr&i with a bitter feeling of disappnintnirnt. CIIAPTER IX. Aunt Rachel and Ruth were together alone in thequietof the old sitting-room, next day. Arthur had taken his gun and gone away after break f ast. "Well," Aunt Rachel said '-is there anything to teil, Ruth?" Her tone was not one of hopef ui c-jcpcetaney ; rather of accepted disappointment. Rutli wit a Nugent; with them, no meant no. They wcre not likely to reconsider their words. They eonsidered well before they spoke them. That had always been charaeteristic of the family. "Not much," answered Ruth, eoniing and standing behind her aunt'8 ehair, and letting her hands pass softly over her thin gray locks. "Arthur asked me'to marrv him vesterday. That Is all. " "All!" Auut Rachel uttered the word with a little sound of bitterness in it. "Allí- was that not much!" "Not much to teil," answered Rutb. "The magnitude of the act I understaud well cnough. in all its hearings." "And you rcfused him I" "Yes, I refused him." answered Ruth. "I bad to, Aunt Rachel. You would have me be honest with, and true to myself, wouldn't you?" "Yes," answered Auut Rachel. '-But sometimes we are mistaken inwhatwethinkisriaht. You are Bure you make no mistake of that kind, Ruth" "Quite sure," answered Ruth. -'When a woman marries a man she should feel certain of her regard for him. She should know that she gives him love- not friendship. You believe that, don't you, Aunt Rachel?" 'Yes." "Well, I acted in that belief. Iknew, bef ore he asked me, that I had only friendship for him - a strong, warm friendship, but lacking that element which makes of such friendship the love he asked for. Lacking that, did I not do right in telling him that I eould not marrv himi" "Yes, I suppose so,'1 answered Aunt Kachel slowly. "Indeed"- with a sudden sense of injustice in the tone of her reply- "I know you did, llntb, if you aresure - quite sure - of yóurself. But I am sorely disappointed. I liad hoped it might be, so mucb, my dear." "I am sorry íor your disappointment, and sorrier for Arthur's," Ruth said, feeling more kcenly what he had done because of the kindnesa in Aunt Rachel's voice and words. H I had only known what you wantod to be befftre I carne, I would have staid away, and this trouble would have been spared us." "I shonld have gone on planning and hopinjr," said Aunt Rachel. "If it must be so, itis well to know it now. Yon have thought it all over thoroughly, Ruth?" with a vague hope that there might be some way of thinking it out diffcrently yct. "Yes, I"have thought it over in all waya," answered Kuth, "and always it came to the same end. I had not the love" to give that I should give a husband." "You have thought of the drearinese of a longlifelived out alone, Ruth?" queried Aunt Rachel - "as mine has been. Have vou thouzht of that)" 'Yes, of that, too,"' anawered Huth, with her eye on the road leading up the hill they had elimbed yesterday. _ She paw a woman climbing the steep alone. Up the rocks and among the tangled thickets led the path, and the lonely e.limber often paused in the way. Footsore,"faint, she turned to the right and tothe Ieft, as if by the prompting of au instinct that suddenly asserted itself, in eearch of companionship and comfort. None were there. She must climb on alone. No matter how weary she grew, there was no arm to lean on ; no matter how lonely, there was no comrade near; no matter how Btarved her heart, there was no food of love to satisfy its longing- yea, its needs ! She tnrned away from the visión of the hillsidc-path withasigb. Tt was hard to climb alone, but it must )e. If Robert conld have elimbed witb her ! Robert :- always Robert ! She almos t hatcd herself for being unable to tliink of him without the old tenderness risine and asserting itscl f brfore she could jirevent it. But she could not help it vet. In time she might outgrow the U'CilkncsS. Slip lionpll Rfi Tf crnird ïnr i fnjinir of disgust ivith herseif to think liow weak slie was in that respect. "Well, if what I liave hoped for caunot be - wby, it. eannot, and there is uo more to be Raid abuut it,"' Aunt Kachel said with u Rgh. "Poor Artbur! I kuow be loved yon, Kuth! He lias toldme that he uevcr carcd for any woman." "Yes, J know he lovcd me," answered Kutb. Notwlthstanding it gave ber keen pain to think how mueh lier reiusal rrmst hurt film, tbe thougbt tliat sonie onc loved her as every woman is glad to be loved broucht a ivarm gloV to lier beart. "I wish 1 conia give bim what be asks for!" Ruth eried. 'Tor his sake, for yours, for mv own. I ivish it from the bottom" of my heart. But I canuot- Icannot!" Slieturned awayto hidc the tears tliat came, and prescntlv ehe Jcft the room. 'Toor Ruth," Aunt Rachel eakl, slowly, with her thoughts going back to her own girihood. 'She 6 doingasl dia- eau I blame her? I loved a man, and becaup e be was not for me I would accept no otber. I had no love to give. DidI doright? I thougbt so then. I hardly know what I think now- onlv that when a woman lives her Iife alone as l"have, she flnds it very dreary, very sad, and wonders at times, if it is worth living. But it will be different with Ruth. She will not rust out as I have. She will be less lonely than I have been, because she will bc bnsy with eomething, and some dav, perhaps, bIic will change her mind. I hope so."" At last the end of the month was at hand. Aunt Kachel urged her neiee to stay longer; but she would not. "I must go back to work," ebe saidresolutely. "I have had a long resting-spell. It doesn't agree with me to be idle." She and Artbur werein the garden when they said good-bye to each other. "I know there is no use in asking you if you have changed yourmind since you answered tbe question I asked you that day, up on the hill " he said, half hopefully. It is so bard to let a hope of that kind die !- so hard " vou tliink of me now, Arthur, and let us be brother and sister to each other." "I will le a brotbcr to vou,''he answered "but I cannot forget." "I shall expect to sec you and liear from vou often," she said. "If I do not, I shall fcel that you have not quite forgivcn me for wliat Ieould not help doing." "There is nothing to forgive," be answeral, earnestly. "I do not Mame you Ruth. I respeet you forit, for it proves"to me tliat there is one woman in tlie world too noble, too true to herself to bc untrue. I would have been satisfied with wliat yoi have to give, but I know I need not ask for it, You have decidcd, and that ends the matter." "You wlB some day flnd some woman who will take the place vou oftered me, I hope,1' she said, as thcy turned to go up the path to the piazza, Wfcere Aunt Kachel was waitiug to sav good-bye. "You eannot think how glad ï would be to hcar such news, Arthur." "It may be," he answered, "but- I doubt it " "Vell,good-bye,"and Ruth held outber hand in part in. lie took it in an carnest, lingering grasp. & ö 'God bless you," he said, brokenly, and then he let go his clasp, and turued and walked down the garden path, and she did not eee him aftor tbat. "You will come againnext summer, if- if I ani here?" Aunt Kachel asked, detaining her aftcr Jonas had driven the carry-all to the gate, and announced that he was ready if Ruth was. "Yes, I will come," answered Ruth. "You aon't think of goins away, do you I" "Perhaps I may," answered Aunt Rachel witli a strange, gravely thoughtful look in her eyes. "If I do, I shall never eome back," ehe added, and it seemed as if she was talkinir to hcrself. Ruth wondered wliat she meant. It was impossible to think of Aunt Rachel'fl going away from the old homestead. Othcrs miglit "o and come, but she was not like them. ¦¦We'll haveto be epry. ef weketchthetrain '' warned Jonas. "01' Vbite-face, ie ain't a two-fortv hor6C, ye know." "Good-bye, Áunt Rachel," cried Ruth. "Don't think hard of me because I eouldn't do as you wanted nu to," and her arms werc about the othcr's neck, her tears fallingfast on the thin, wrinkled face she was uever to see again in life. -I don't" was Auut Rachel' reply, as she kissed Ruth't face over and over again. "I know thcre's some trouble you haven't told me about, dear,- but I pray it may all come nght. Good-bye, Ruth, and may "God make your life happy, and not sucl; a lonelv one as mine has been." Aunt Kachel's parting words lingered in Ruth's ears Uke a benediction as the "Winsted hills bid the old homestead from sight, and ehe went back to begin the battle of life alone TO DE COXTIXIED.