ce was very active, and would keep reminding her that it
was not yet too late to go and confess to Miss Elgin. But she put it
off. Alas! every moment that had elapsed since she gave up the paper
rendered such a task more difficult; the longer she concealed her fault
the more serious it became. Looking quite pale and wretched, she
returned home that afternoon with a splitting headache. Her aunt was
quite troubled about her, though she tried to make light of it, and Mr.
Woburn said cheerily, "You must make haste and get well for to-morrow,
Ruth. I suppose you will have a grand prize to bring home after all this
term's work."

"Indeed, I would rather not go to-morrow morning," she replied
sincerely, as she wished them good-night.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE PRIZE.

But when the morning came she could find no plausible excuse for
absenting herself from the prize-giving. Her head was better, though she
still looked pale, and Mrs. Woburn, who was to accompany the two girls,
would not hear of her remaining at home.

Sick at heart, and anxious for the whole business to be over, Ruth
followed her aunt and cousin into the schoolroom, where the desks had
been cleared away, and the drawings and work of the pupils were arranged
for exhibition.

A number of visitors had already arrived, and were walking round
inspecting the drawings, etc., and chatting in little groups, until Mr.
Redcliffe, a gentleman of influence and wide repute, entered the
schoolroom and took his seat. He made a little speech upon the value of
education, complimented Miss Elgin upon her excellent system of
instruction and the proficiency of her pupils, and said a few words of
congratulation and encouragement to each of the girls as they came
forward to receive their prizes.

Ruth's turn came last, and perhaps on that account his words to her were
even kinder and more appreciative. He considered that the prize for
general improvement was perhaps better worth having than any other,
because, in order to gain it, one must indeed have proved worthy, he
said to the blushing girl who stood before him, trembling and full of
shame, which, however, appeared to be humility.

The longed-for moment had come at last, and Ruth held in her hand the
prize for which she had worked and striven. Yes, she had gained it, but
at what a cost!

At the cost of truth and honour, of right principle and self-respect. It
was a very poor exchange for them, and the unhappy girl woul