relapse at a
moment's notice. Every morning since her arrival, nine months ago, had
Mrs. Alwynn returned from her house-keeping with the same cheerful
bustle, the same piece of information: "Well, Ruth, I've ordered dinner,
my dear. First one duty, and then another."

Why had that innocent and not unfamiliar phrase become so intolerable
when she heard it again this morning? And when Mrs. Alwynn wound up the
musical-box, and the "Buffalo Girls" tinkled on the ear to relieve the
monotony of a wet morning, why should Ruth have struggled wildly for a
moment with a sudden inclination to laugh and cry at the same time,
which resulted in two large tears falling unexpectedly, to her surprise
and shame, upon her book.

She shut the book, and recovering herself with an effort, listened
patiently to Mrs. Alwynn's remarks until, early in the afternoon, the
sky cleared. Making some excuse about going to see her old nurse at the
lodge at Arleigh, who was still ill, she at last effected her escape out
of the room and out of the house.

The air was fresh and clear, though cold. The familiar fields and beaded
hedge-rows, the red land, new ploughed, where the plovers hovered, the
gray broken sky above, soothed Ruth like the presence of a friend, as
Nature, even in her commonest moods, has ministered to many a one who
has loved her before Ruth's time.

Our human loves partake always of the nature of speculations. We have no
security for our capital (which, fortunately, is seldom so large as we
suppose), but the love of Nature is a sure investment, which she repays
a thousand-fold, which she repays most prodigally when the heart is
bankrupt and full of bitterness, as Ruth's heart was that day. For in
Nature, as Wordsworth says, "there is no bitterness," that worst sting
of human grief. And as Ruth walked among the quiet fields, and up the
yellow aisles of the autumn glades to Arleigh, Nature spoke of peace to
her--not of joy or of happiness as in old days, for she never lies as
human comforters do, and these had gone out of her life; but of the
peace that duty steadfastly adhered to will bring at last--the peace
that after much turmoil will come in the end to those who, amid a Babel
of louder tongues, hear and obey the low-pitched voices of conscience
and of principle.

For it never occurred to Ruth for a moment to throw over Dare and marry
Charles. She had given her word to Dare, and her word was her bond. It
was as much a matter o