ASHTON RE-VISITS OLD SCENES.
A week or two after the conversation we recorded in the last
chapter, Richard Ashton spoke to Mr. Gurney in regard to his
contemplated journey to Rochester. He wished to go that he might
settle his business with the man who had purchased his place.
Mr. Gurney was well aware that such a journey was contemplated,
and he was sincerely sorry that such was the case.
Ashton, during the year that was passed, had never left the town
for any purpose whatever, and had kept so strictly to his business
as not to form any association with those who would be likely to
lead him astray. Mr. Gurney, therefore, was not altogether
satisfied that he would have strength enough to resist the
temptations to which he would be exposed when he met his old
associates in Rochester. He plainly told Ashton what his fear was,
but the latter assured him he would pass through the ordeal and
come out unscathed. So Mr. Gurney expressed the hope that he would
bring his business to a successful issue, and return with improved
health from his trip, and he then bade him a kindly good-bye.
But it was his wife who experienced the greatest anxiety. Ruth had
from the beginning expressed her fears as to the result of the
voyage. It seemed to her like courting temptation. She thought the
business might have been settled through his solicitor without his
going in person. But, as he seemed bent on the journey, she did
not like to make many objections; she was afraid, by so doing, she
would wound his feelings, for he would be certain to interpret the
objections as inspired by her fears of his falling, and, strange
to say, that, like a great many others in similar circumstances,
he seemed to be very much hurt if anyone hinted to him that there
was any danger of his drinking again.
She had, however, prevailed upon him to take Eddie along. She
thought his presence would have a restraining influence upon his
father, and she reasoned, if he should again fall, Eddie could, to
some extent, take care of him.
The thought of this journey had so preyed upon her mind that it
robbed her of her sleep; and now, as the time more nearly
approached, her anxiety deepened into anguish which was all the
more acute because she dare not make a confident of him from whom
she kept no other secret. Only to Him from whom no thoughts are
hidden, did she go and tell her anguish, and pray for strength to
bear up under her great sorrow. She also prayed that God would
protect him who was dearer to her than her own life.
It was nearly a year from the day in which they first landed in
Bayton, when Richard Ashton was again bidding his wife and
children an affectionate farewell, ere he departed on a journey to
another land. It was undertaken under much more favorable auspices
than when he started from Rochester to Canada; for in the first
instance he was journeying to a strange land on an errand of
doubtful success, while in the present instance he was going to a
place with which he was familiar, where he would have old friends
to bid him welcome, and kindly hearts to care for him. And yet, if
possible, there was greater dread entertained by his wife now than
there had been on the former occasion. Then he could scarcely make
his position worse, and there was a possibility of his bettering
it; now there was everything to lose and nothing to gain.
True, he had assured her she had nothing to fear. Just the night
before he started he had said, as he lovingly threw his arms
around her and drew her to him:--
"I know, Ruth, darling, you are suffering anxiety upon my account,
and are fearing I shall not have strength to resist the temptation
to which I shall be exposed; but you need not fear, little wife, I
shall return as I leave you. I have made up my mind, God helping
me, I will never drink again."
The tears started from Ruth's eyes as he spoke, and she threw her
arms around his neck as she clung to him, sobbing as she did so.
She spoke no word in denial of what he had stated concerning her
fears in his behalf, but simply murmured: "God bless you, my
darling; I know I am a poor, weak, foolish little thing to grieve
so at parting from you; but oh, Richard, I am afraid something
will happen you, and we are so happy now!"
He endeavoured to calm her by loving caresses. He was not at all
surprised that his wife should be troubled with anxious fear. He
inwardly resolved he would so acquit himself this time that she
should ever after, in this as in other respects, repose the most
perfect confidence in him.
As we said, on the morning in question he and Eddie kissed their
loved ones good-bye and took the seven o'clock train for the place
in which they had spent so many happy years.
The wife and mother, with her two children who had accompanied
them to the station, looked at the receding train with tearful
eyes.
It was a beautiful morning: the first beams of the slowly-rising
sun, stealing gently above the eastern hills, scattered the mist
of the morning and bathed the river and bay in its golden light. A
robin, which was perched upon a maple growing not far from where
Ruth and her children were standing, was singing its lay to the
morning, and the atmosphere was balmy with the breath of flowers.
It was a morning to charm the heart into joyousness, and yet the
heart of Ruth Ashton was filled with unutterable woe. The thoughts
which had borne so heavily upon her spirits for so long a period
of time now came with redoubled force, and dark, dreadful
forebodings and sorrowful memories assailed her soul and filled it
with unspeakable anguish.
"Oh, my Father, help me to bear up!" she prayed. "Oh, why am I
filled with dread, with this awful fear?"
Taking her children by the hand, she led them back to the house.
They uttered no word, even little Mamie seeming to understand that
her mother's heart was too full for words.