Chapter VII: In the Sunlight

"SIT down," said Mary, when Dr. Arundel had left them. "How very kind of you to come so soon—"

"I hope I am not intruding! But indeed I do want to know you; I have been so looking forward to your coming—and—and—I do want a friend so badly!"

Mary looked at the young face, at the deep mourning dress, and could not withstand the appeal of the glistening eyes.

She bent her taller head, and kissed Ruth gently. "I feel sure we shall be friends," she said.

There was a moment's silence, as if both of them were a little astonished at the unconventionality of their greeting. Mary found a lump in her throat, and Ruth brushed away two tears which had somehow got into her eyes.

"You have not seen our rooms, have you?" asked Mary, recovering her voice. "I think they are very nice till we get our own house; do not you?"

"I was admiring this very much," said Ruth. "How bright Dr. Arundel has made it."

"Yes he is very clever at that sort of thing," said his wife, smiling, "they all are. He seems to know by intuition what will make people comfortable."

"How nice," exclaimed Ruth. "I can well believe it from what my father said."

"It is a great gift," said Mrs. Arundel.

"I do hope you will be comfortable—"

"We advertised for rooms in the local paper; my husband thought we should enjoy furnishing our house together."

"I think that is a lovely way," said Ruth.

"We have bought most of the furniture in London during our honeymoon," said the bride, blushing; "we have had such a busy fortnight! But it was all fun."

"And the things will be sent when you have found a house?"

"Yes—Dr. Arthur has not had time to tell me much, but you will know the district and can tell us the advantages and disadvantages."

"Our old house is empty!" said Ruth. "That is in the very middle of the town, and is a dear old house, with a nice surgery and old-fashioned rooms, and—oh, a lovely garden!"

"A garden!" said Mary, with brightening eyes.

"Yes, you would not think it from the street, but it slopes away behind, a narrow piece at first, and then it widens till it is quite large, ending with a meadow and the river."

"Oh!" was all Mary could say.

"Yes; my father always has regretted leaving it, but I like being up on the hill myself. I love wide views, and the Welsh hills in the distance, and the feeling of liberty. Do you know that feeling?"

Ruth paused, blushing at her candid speech. Was she sailing out on the pond her father talked of, too suddenly?

But Mary answered thoughtfully—

"I think I know what you mean! But I am not quite sure whether it is wise to encourage too much dreaming—"

"Is that dreaming?" asked Ruth, her thoughts on the wide prospect, the green fields and hedges, the undulating hills near, the changing colours and the blue distances.

"Though I am not 'very' old," said Mary, smiling, "I have thought a great deal, and gradually my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ has filled all my life with the desire first of all to be His, and to live for Him—"

Ruth was silent, but she turned very white. Perhaps she had never had such a shock in her life before, as those tender, gently spoken, earnest words.

Was this her friend? Was there at the outset a barrier to the friendship which she had been so counting on? Her heart sank.

Mary saw the change in her face instantly.

"Dear Ruth, may I call you Ruth? I see you have not thought about this, and it shocks you. But it is my greatest joy, and by and bye it will be yours, I hope."

Mary got up and kissed her again, a kiss full of something which Ruth felt was like a blessing.

"Now come and see my little domain," said Mrs. Arundel brightly. "You will excuse the number of boxes, for I have only been here an hour, and have not unpacked a thing. There! I have never thanked you for those lovely flowers you sent."

"Oh, that is nothing—"

"You and I shall have to 'learn' each other, you know, and I shall have to introduce you to my brothers and sisters—Harry and Alice and Flora, and Vincent, my twin; and Archie and Rose. My sister Alice is Dr. Brown's cousin. Is it not strange? I mean, how circles meet."

"Yes; I expect I have heard more about you than you about me," said Ruth, smiling. "Our housekeeper, Mrs. Morris, comes from your part, and was there when there was that dreadful accident on the ice—oh, I should not have said anything about that!" exclaimed Ruth, stopping short at the change in her companion's face.

"Ah!—" said Mary. "I can never think of that day without such a pain at my heart as seems to give me a sort of blow."

"I did not know you—?"

"That I had anything to do with it? No, I daresay not. But those were the days in which I was living, not 'In the Sunlight' of God's love, but 'out of it.' If I had stood up for the right that day, that accident might never have happened."

"Oh, I am so sorry I so thoughtlessly alluded to it!"

"No, do not be sorry. We shall be the better friends. For you will see in knowing me that I am full of faults—but oh, I do want to please God!"

Just then a carriage was heard drawing up at the door, and Dr. Arundel came in to announce to Ruth that her father was waiting for her.

With a hasty, but very warm good-bye, Ruth hurried off. At the door, she turned back to Mary for one moment, and said earnestly, "Thank you for telling me; I shall never forget your confidence!" And then she was gone.

"A nice little girl," said Arthur Arundel.

"A very nice little girl," answered Mary. "Oh, Arthur, I pray to be made a blessing to her."