JULIA'S HUMILIATION.
A tender conscience is easily aroused, and Ruth's had been troubling her
since the previous afternoon. She knew that although she had done right
in befriending Mabel she had not done it in a Christian spirit. She
almost decided that she ought to beg her cousin's pardon, and was even
thinking what it would be advisable to say, when Julia's question
stirred her worst feelings to activity, and she answered curtly that she
should do as she pleased.
A lively conversation was being carried on in the cloak-room, but
suddenly ceased as they entered. The exciting cause of it was Ethel
Thompson, whose busy tongue often brought both herself and others into
trouble. She had carried home a full account of the quarrel between the
cousins the day before, and had concluded by imitating Julia's haughty
manner when she said, "If any one belonging to me had ever been a
bankrupt, I should never show my face in the town again."
"Humph! Did she say that?" asked Mr. Thompson. "Well 'people who live in
glass houses shouldn't throw stones.'"
"Why do you say that?" inquired Ethel curiously.
"Because her own father failed some years ago."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Oh yes, I remember it very well, though I suppose it must have been
quite nine or ten years ago, time flies so fast. But he is a very
prosperous man now."
Ethel did not wait to hear more, but went to school next day full of the
idea of humbling Julia by means of this wonderful piece of news. She had
already whispered it to two or three girls when the cousins appeared at
the door and the bell rang for class.
Julia was rather late, and in her hurry she placed her hat upon the
nearest vacant peg, which happened to be Mabel Stanley's. Mabel entered
at that moment, and seeing that her peg was occupied, quietly asked
Julia to remove her hat. She did so with a very bad grace, and without
saying a word hastened to join her companions in the schoolroom.
"How shamefully Julia Woburn treats that poor child!" said one of the
elder girls who lingered in the cloak-room, "and I hear that it is
simply because Mr. Stanley has failed in business."
"Yes," replied the other, "and what makes it more disgraceful is--that
her own father was a bankrupt not very long ago!"
"Her father? Mr. Woburn? Surely you are mistaken!"
"No, indeed. Ethel Thompson brought the information this morning, and is
quite full of it."
It so happened that Julia was returning to the cloak-room for a book
which she had forgotten, when she heard her own name mentioned, and
pausing for an instant on the threshold overheard all that was said.
She ran in and confronted the two girls, her eyes flashing and her heart
beating fast, and exclaimed, "Did Ethel really say that? How dare she
tell such an untruth!"
"Perhaps it was only a joke," said the girl who had spoken first.
"It is a slander, an insult, and I'll not stand it!" said Julia
indignantly.
They reasoned with her and endeavoured to calm her, but only partially
succeeded in soothing her before she returned to the schoolroom. Her
face still wore an angry sullen expression, and she carefully avoided
Ethel Thompson throughout the morning. Not one lesson could she say, and
she begged to be excused her arithmetic and French on the plea of a
severe headache.
After study hours, when the girls met in recess time, Julia proudly
demanded of Ethel what she meant by spreading such false statements
about her family; and Ethel replied that all she had said was true, and
added that when she heard it she was no longer surprised at Julia's
treatment of Mabel, but saw a reason for it.
Julia, finding that Ethel's report had gained credence among her
school-fellows, was half wild with mortification and rage; and declaring
that she would remain there no longer to be insulted, she dressed
herself and went home, leaving her companions somewhat alarmed at the
storm their foolish conversation had raised.
They had not reflected that one of the most fruitful sources of quarrels
among school-girls is--silly gossip about their relatives and friends.
While Mr. and Mrs. Woburn were sitting at luncheon they were startled by
hearing a violent knock at the door, and the next moment Julia, dressed
in her walking attire, rushed into the room, regardless of everything
but the one idea which possessed her mind, and exclaimed, "Father, tell
me, did you ever fail? Were you ever a bankrupt?"
Mr. Woburn's face changed suddenly, and grew stern and pale.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because they have slandered you and insulted me at school, but I told
them it was false."
"It _was_--true," said Mr. Woburn slowly, "but I fail to see what can
have brought it up now."
"True!" cried Julia, bursting into tears, and sobbing hysterically.
"Then I can never go to Miss Elgin's again."
She threw herself upon the sofa, and for some minutes was unable to
speak, so violent was her passion and anger. In vain her father demanded
an explanation of her strange behaviour, and her mother tried to calm
and soothe her.
"Leave her to me," she said at last. "I am quite at a loss to understand
the matter, but she will tell me when she is better."
Before the sobs had altogether subsided Ruth entered the room: for Miss
Elgin, hearing of Julia's sudden departure, had imagined that her
headache had increased, and at once despatched her cousin to follow her.
"Perhaps you can explain what has happened," said her aunt. "Why have
the girls been talking of your uncle's business affairs?"
"Well, the fact is, auntie, that Mabel Stanley came to school yesterday,
and Julia was cross and rude to her because her father has failed, and
then the girls made up this tale to humble her, and she flew into a rage
and came home."
"Now I understand. But the tale was true, nevertheless. Now, Julia dear,
don't sob. I think I had better tell you all about it, that you may
understand for yourselves.
"I think you know, Julia, that when your father started in life he had
not much capital, and began business in a small way. But he did very
well until there came a time of commercial depression, and a man who
owed him a considerable sum of money died insolvent. Then your father
found that he was so much embarrassed that he thought the wisest and
most honourable course would be to divide what he had amongst his
creditors at once. He gave up everything to them, and was hesitating
what he should do for a living. Just at that time my father died and
left all his little property to me and my brother (your father, Ruth).
My money would not have been sufficient to start another business, but
your father came to our help, and offered to lend his share of the
money. Then my husband was able to start again, and prospered. All his
creditors were paid in full long ago, and my brother's money was repaid
with interest, though nothing, I am sure, can ever repay his kindness in
lending it to us at that particular time, for I fear that he must have
been straitened for years by his generous deed. Now you understand,
Ruth, why I told you that everything I gave you had been more than paid
for long ago, though I did not know that it would be necessary to tell
you how."
Ruth was silent and thoughtful. Her aunt's words gave her the clue to
many things which she had never been able to comprehend. She guessed now
why her father sometimes looked regretfully at a large and excellent
farm a short distance from his own.
"You ought to have taken that farm," she had once heard a neighbour
remark to him.
"Ah! the time for that is gone by," was his reply.
She believed now that the opportunity of taking it had occurred while
the money was embarked in her uncle's business, and that when it was
free the farm and the family had soon absorbed it, for the land was not
very good, and there had been several bad harvests lately.
"Why did you never tell me before?" asked Julia peevishly, from the
sofa.
"Why, dear? Well, you know it is never pleasant to talk about our
failures. Your father has not referred to the subject, even to me, for
years, and I could see that he was exceedingly annoyed by your mention
of it just now. You were but an infant at the time, and it is so long
ago that it seemed to have been forgotten. But I have looked back
sometimes since we have grown rich, and thought with pleasure of my
brother's kindness."
"Still it is true," whined Julia, "and," she added passionately, "I can
never look at Ethel Thompson or any of the girls again."
"That is very silly," said her mother.
"Indeed I cannot--never--_never_, and I am the most wretched girl in
England, and shall never be happy again!"
Her sobs were renewed with redoubled violence, and she looked really ill
from vexation and passion. Mrs. Woburn gave her some cooling medicine
and persuaded her to go to bed.
But Ruth did not pity her cousin. She worked alone at her lessons that
evening, and when the thought of Julia crossed her mind her lips
tightened and she said to herself, "She deserves to be ill. She treated
Mabel unkindly, and now it has come back to her, and she is suffering
for it. Yes, she deserves it." And before she went to rest that night
she read in her little Bible a few verses about the sin of pride, with a
mental reference to Julia, and also some passages concerning
retribution, and wrong-doing coming home to the sinner.
She was not following in the footsteps of the Lord, who hates sin, yet
loves the sinner, but thought only of her cousin's just punishment, and
wondered how she would bear to meet all her school-fellows again. She
was not cherishing the love that vaunteth not itself, that is not puffed
up, that rejoiceth not in iniquity; the love that never faileth, and
that covers a multitude of sins.
Was there not something of the spirit of the Pharisee in Ruth's heart?
Was she not beginning to sit in the seat of the scornful, and to look
down upon her cousin from her superior position? Well, pride must have a
fall, sooner or later, whether it be pride of position or pride of
heart.