d gladly
have given it up, would have borne any disappointment, anything but the
humiliation of confession, to have been her old light-hearted innocent
self again. But she had done wrong, and although she shrank from pain,
she had to bear what, in her state of mind, was indeed a trial--the kind
congratulations of her school-fellows, and the praises of her teacher
and friends. Even when she reached home the trial was not over, for her
uncle and cousins had each some kind word to say.

"And now, my dear, you must write to your father and mother," said Mrs.
Woburn that afternoon. "How proud and delighted they will be to hear of
your success!"

_That letter!_ It was the hardest task of all to write and tell her
parents what she knew would give them so much pleasure, while she was
concealing the fact which would, if known, give them far greater pain.
She spent the afternoon writing and re-writing it, and at last sent off
a stiff, constrained little note, informing them that she had been
successful, and hoped they were all well.

When Mrs. Arnold received the letter, she read it again and again. She
felt convinced, from the absence of any playful remarks, from Ruth's
unusual brevity and lack of detail, that something was wrong; but she
knew that if her daughter did not write freely she could not _force_ her
confidence. So she carried the trouble to her Heavenly Father, and asked
Him to lead and guide her absent child.

Christmas was upon them almost before Ruth was aware of it, the gayest
and most festive Christmas time that she had ever known, a round of
parties, pleasure and merriment. It needs a mind at peace to be able to
enter into and enjoy the innocent pleasures of life, and to feel no
bitterness when they are past. And Ruth, in spite of the presents she
received, the parties to which she was invited, and the pretty dresses
she wore, was troubled in mind, and therefore unhappy.

Two things weighed heavily upon her, her own deceit, and her promise to
Gerald.

She had been so carefully trained, and so early taught the difference
between right and wrong, that she could not look upon her prize without
being reminded of the temptation to which she had so suddenly yielded,
and the equivocation to which she had resorted in order to hide it.

Then her promise to Gerald troubled her greatly. She felt almost sure,
though she could not prove it, that he was not keeping his word. He came
down in the morning very late, look