RUTH'S NEW HOME.
Flora was very glad to know that at last her tender-hearted, patient
Ruth had found some one to love her as well as to require of her duties.
Love is a lightener of labor, and Flora felt that, in this respect at
least, she was more fortunate than her friend. She felt sure, moreover,
she was fast gaining the affection of her brothers and of her mother,
who was gradually awaking to love for Flora and the desire to make the
home attractive. She had something to work for. But Ruth--she had no one
to whom to look for love, except Jem, as it was impossible to think of
their quiet, undemonstrative father ever expressing any of his love for
his daughters. One could only judge from his manner, for he never said
much, and that was the same as when she first knew them.
John Rudd apparently took it as a matter of course that Major Benson
came to see him as he lay ill, and expressed neither pleasure nor
displeasure when he stated that should he not recover Ruth and Jem
would be well cared for. He accepted, without feeling, the heartily
expressed forgiveness from the major, thinking that perhaps it was due
in some degree to the presence of two faces standing near by with
earnest, pleading looks at the newly found grandfather, who, deprived of
his daughter, would fill the vacancy in his heart with Ruth and Jem.
It was very difficult for Major Joe, with his tender heart, to leave his
grandchildren. At last, however, he did, promising to return in the
afternoon with Mrs. Benson, who would be overjoyed to see them,
especially Ruth, who was so like her mother at her age.
As they returned to the market, Major Joe was prolific in his
expressions of gratitude to Flora for her part in bringing about this
delightful re-union, for had this not been done, Ruth and Jem would have
suffered, and would have been left without parents or home.
Harry and Alec were well pleased with their new position, and because
trade had been very flourishing during their period of power. Major Joe
heartily thanked them all for their kind help to him this morning. Flora
then returned home, but Harry and Alec remained to do anything else
possible for Major Joe, as he wished to go home at once, and must pack
his wares.
It is neither necessary to recount in detail all that pertained to the
last hours of John Rudd, nor how attentive Grandfather Joe was to his
newly found grandchildren; nor how overjoyed Mrs. Benson was when she
first saw them. It will be enough to say that all that could be done
toward rendering the dying man's last moments peaceful was done. Toward
the last he roused, and in a simple, but earnest way, expressed himself
content to die. He said that, although he had not spoken of the matter
for fear of distressing the children, he had known for some time that it
was to be so, and that long ago he had made his peace with God. He
regretted his past careless life, both as to his duty to his Maker and
to the children intrusted to him; "but," he continued, "God is good, and
ever willing to forgive, and to accept a truly contrite spirit, and my
trust is stayed on him." He expressed himself as very grateful to him
for his goodness in providing for his children. He blessed them all with
his last breath and passed peacefully away.
When the last sad rites had been performed, Ruth's grandparents
immediately began preparations to take her and Jem home.
The modest furniture of her home was entirely removed, although it
somewhat crowded the cottage, but Ruth could not now part with these
mementos of her former life, which had been her mother's.
At last, everything was ready, the little house was given up, and Ruth
was spending a few moments with Flora, who, although instrumental in
finding a new home for Ruth and Jem, was full of sorrow at the prospect
of her loss in the parting with her friend.
"Don't look so sad, Flora dear," said Ruth. "Think what a blessing it is
that poor little Jem and I have not been left altogether alone in the
world. Had God not led you to find our dear grandparents, how very
wretched we should be now. Besides, you know, we are not to be so far
away; we can see each other often."
"That is true," returned Flora, brightening up; "I am glad of that; but
it will be so lonely not to have you near me. Besides, I don't know any
other girl as intimately as I do you."
"Oh, you will," said Ruth. "I am sure you will meet and become
acquainted with some one as you did me. I hope, if you do, you may be
permitted to do them as much good as you have done me."
"And me too, Ruth," said an unexpected voice behind them.
Both turned, and saw Mrs. Hazeley standing in the doorway with a smile
upon her lips and tears in her eyes.
"I used to be very unhappy, as you both know, and it was because I
expected life to form itself for me--either for pleasure or unhappiness.
Then Flora came," and she went over to her daughter and placed an arm
about her, and looked lovingly in her eyes; "I watched her closely,
and I soon discovered that she had determined to make this house a
home, and a delightful one. No untoward circumstances seemed to
discourage, but she was ever cheery and sprightly. We have gained
by her home-coming--how much I cannot tell. She seems to have the
mere power of will to mold circumstances as she chooses----"
"Not my will, mother," softly interrupted Flora, her face suffused with
happy smiles; "it is God's will."
"Yes, yes, my dear," said Mrs. Hazeley, "I believe it. I want his will
to mold my life too. A godless life is a wretched life, my children."
Harry and Alec had entered during the conversation, and were standing
listening in amazement to what they heard from their mother.
"And the boys too," continued Mrs. Hazeley; "I am sure they have been
helped by their sister's example."
"I know I have!" exclaimed Alec. Harry's only reply was to remark that
the major was at the door waiting for Ruth. Then he turned and went out.
Flora felt a strange mixture of feelings at that moment. She was glad to
know she had helped Ruth; unutterably grateful for her mother's words;
and hurt at the seeming indifference of her brother. It was not her way,
however, to dwell on what she could not prevent, so she only determined
to strive harder than before to penetrate the armor of cold indifference
worn by Harry of late.
As Harry left, they all went to the gate to wave a good-bye to Ruth. In
the wagon was Jem, perched on a seat beside her grandfather, to whom she
had clung with all the strength of her loving little heart. Immediately
after the funeral she had gone home with him, taking "Pokey," and
leaving Ruth in peace to pack. This was really a comfort to Ruth, as
Jem's presence would not have been of any great assistance.
Soon everything was settled, and with many injunctions to come soon, the
party drove off, little Jem holding the reins with a steady hand, and a
determination to drive all the way home.
A new life thus opened for the orphans, Ruth and Jem--a life of freedom
from care, of joyous liberty to run at will in the garden of their
grandfather, who delighted in the company of Jem, and who returned his
affection in full measure. The life at the cottage was blessed by the
loving guardianship of the grandmother, who saw in Ruth her own daughter
of long ago.
Under this beneficent influence Ruth lost some of her seriousness,
becoming more like other girls, and grew rosy and stout.
The life at the farm had so absorbed Jem's mind and time that, for the
time being, "Pokey" was forgotten, much to the latter's satisfaction,
for now she could lie in the sun and sleep in peace without fear of
being unceremoniously awakened by her erratic little mistress.
Flora watched the wagon containing Ruth and Jem until it was out of
sight, and then went into the house. Alec and Harry had gone away. Mrs.
Hazeley was sewing, and Flora, having no especial duty, and caring for
none, went over and stood at the window, listlessly gazing into space.
Her eyes soon dropped, and her attention was attracted by the yellow
leaves on the sweet-potato vine. Flora felt as if all to which she had
clung was leaving her in her loneliness. She looked closer. The potato
was still firm and hard, and the jar was quite packed with roots, but
the leaves on the vine were dying.