HOME AGAIN.
It was Easter again before Ruth was allowed to return to Cressleigh. How
little she had thought when she left it that she would not see the old
home and its inmates for nearly two years!
But the time had really passed, and the day had come at last when she
must bid farewell to school-days and Busyborough, and take leave of her
aunt, uncle, and cousins. Partings are never pleasant when we are
leaving those we love, and Ruth had grown very fond of them all during
her protracted visit. Julia's animosity had been allayed long since, and
Mrs. Woburn had grown to love her niece as a daughter. She had been for
some time the peace-making element of the household, and a great
favourite with Rupert, who was growing a fine sturdy boy. Ernest was
sorry to lose her, though, as usual, he was not profuse in his
expressions of regret. The shy, awkward boy was developing into a clever
but somewhat reserved young man. Ruth had understood him far better than
any of his own family, and he knew that he should miss her sadly.
The farewells at the house and good-byes at the railway station were
painful, and it was a tearful face of which Mrs. Woburn caught a last
glimpse through the carriage window; but when the train started, Ruth's
mind was so full of joyful anticipations of her welcome home that she
could not feel sad. She wondered, as she leaned back and closed her
eyes, what they would think of her, whether her father would think her
improved or spoilt, and she began to reflect how much she had learnt,
and what experience she had gained of the world and of her own heart
during her absence. It seemed to her that the Ruth Arnold who had left
home nearly two years ago was a very simple, ignorant little girl, whom
she could think of as quite apart from herself.
So busy was she with her thoughts that she scarcely noticed her
fellow-passengers leaving the carriage one by one, until she was aroused
by a cry of "All change here." Was that Crook Junction? Yes, surely.
Then she was only ten miles from home.
She hastened from the carriage to look after her luggage, and was
astonished to hear a familiar voice say, "Ruth." It was her father. How
kind of him to come to meet her! In a few minutes both father and
daughter were seated in another carriage travelling on the loop line to
Cressleigh, and Ruth was talking very fast, trying to tell all the
events of two years in five minutes, and stopping again and again to ask
a question or to recognise some familiar landmark.
Primroses were blooming everywhere, and the country looked gay with
them.
"The children were remarking last night," said her father, "that the
spring has decorated all Cressleigh in honour of your return."
"Here we are at last!" cried Ruth, as the train stopped at the
well-known little station with its little garden-strip of bright flowers
beside the platform. And there was Will, dear old Will, grown such a
handsome fellow, waiting in the station-yard with the brown mare in the
old light cart.
After a hasty greeting came the drive home along the lanes, where the
trees were bursting into leaf, and the hedgerows were gay with starry
blossoms, and the air was delicious after the smoke of a large town.
The children were waiting at the gate, and a little group stood in the
porch to receive her. It was indeed a home-coming, and the poor girl was
almost bewildered by the kissing, the waving, the shouting, the
questions, the entreaties to "look at this," and "come and see that."
Mrs. Arnold was obliged to dismiss the whole party after Ruth had duly
admired the floral decorations in the hall, and had commented upon the
many inches added to the various members of the family during her
absence, and secured her a few minutes' quiet by carrying her off to her
own room.
How tiny and bare it looked after her comfortable, pretty room at
Busyborough, and yet so snug and sweet! How delightfully fresh was the
breeze that blew about the white dimity curtains, and what a wide range
of country she could see instead of a vista of windows, roofs, and
chimney-pots! Yes, indeed, though simple and plain, it was "Home, sweet
home," and there was no other place in the world like it.
Tea followed, a merry, noisy meal, for every one had so much to say, and
although Ruth talked very fast she was not able to reply to half the
questions that were put to her. But the exertion and excitement of the
day had made her feel weary, and she was thankful when the evening drew
to a close, and her father took down the big Bible and read a psalm; and
in the prayer that followed he gave thanks for her safe return, and
prayed that she might be a comfort and blessing to all the household.
When Ruth lay in her little bed that night her last conscious thought
was of the day's changes and the morrow's duties, and she asked that He
who had guided her in the past would be with her in the future, and that
He would help her in her work as the eldest daughter at home, as He had
guided and helped her in her life at Busyborough as The Country Cousin.