Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-05-08
LITTLE RUTH,s SECRET;
ARTISTS Love and Ambition.


road forward. sometimes, when we suspect
its coming least, our even course is cut across
by new path, and we turn sharp aside, to
the right hand or to the left, into the light OF
darkness. When it was past, / knew that
Noel's illness had opened such path to me.
Swiftly at once we entered into the very
presence of the shadow of Death. Even now,
as | look back, there is something in the re-
membrance of those first DAYS when Noel was
struck down that still shrink from and shiyer
at. 1t was not ordinary paint was as il
the house had been swiftly struck with dark
ness. The various incidents and interests OF
our daily life ceased utterly before it. Sudden
ly, imperiously, in one single day, all hopes
and fears seemed set for me within the walls
OF that room | never entered, and upon the
aspect of that face that 1 never saw.
For nine days and nights he was ''sick unto
death.' Only when our hope had sunk to its
last ebb, and our fear had grown to be as a
great shadow-"a thick darkness that could
be felt''-did the light at last come back 10
US. One night / had been wandering about
the house the whole night through. listening,
hourly, to catch the first sound of the cry
that should tell me that the end had come
Hour had followed hour till dawn; and it was
not uttered. When it was morning / went
to the passage beside his room. The door
was open. As 1 stood, saw the curtained
bed within. / saw my godmother. too sitting
by its side. | had been waiting, knowing
nothing, all the night: could not go away.
| stood in the doorway till she raised her
head and saw me, and beckoned me to
come.
He was lying sleeping. Perhaps it was ex-
haustion, and not repose; but the struggle, at
least, had ceast. The brow was unknit, the
lips were still; if it was nothing more, the
thing that had come was, at least. peace. But
it ,Cas more. L crept away again noiselessly
as l had entered, and | did not see his face
again; but during that restless night that had
departed, the crisis had come, and God had
spared him. Looking back now, can still
feel the rolling back through the succeed
ing days of that great fear-the lifting up,
one by one, or the folds of that dark cur
tain.
When | next saw him it was on an early
summer afternoon, and he had come, for the
first time, into our common sitting-room, and
was lying near that west window where had
grown accustomed to sit. had not spoken
one word to him since that April evening
when he had fallen ill.
| went up to his couch, and put out my
hand to him.
Cousin Noel, am glad to see you here"
Il am glad, too" he answered, cheerfully.
Il thank you, Ruth!''
As j stood by him he looked so worn and
wan, so changed aud helpless. | had meant
to say something moe to him, and on the
sudden found | could not; something rose
in my throat and choked my voice. Strangely
affected, went away from him, and sat down
alone. | was half glad / was half cry
ing. | could not have thought once, even
a few weeks ago, that any word or look of
Noel Erickson's could ever have moved me
so.
sat all through that afternoon busily bend
ing over my work Noel had to be kept
quiet, and neither he nor my gOdmother spoke
much. Once she read to him for a little
while; it was from a book whose name did
not know, which spoke of things | had not
thought of. and pierced into places where |
could not follow; yet its fervor and its pas
sionate words caught my ear, and sometimes
my heart, strangely.
When the sun had set she had ceased to read,
and we were all idle. | remember it was a
breathless, warm-hued evening, and the church
windows showed crimson stars of light. |
too, that within the church, for a
long time, the organ was playing. We were
all very quiet. Noel lay looking from us to
the open window, and from where sat could
see his face, and | looked on that.
| looked with vague, half-pained, half
Joyous wonder; it seemed to me us if l was
only learning that face for the first time to-
eyes before. Tonight l sat and traced each
feature and each clear-cut line, till
a slow, glad conviction came upon me like the
birth of a new sense.
He stayed with us until it was almost dark
when at last he rose to go, leaning on his
mothers arm. He called to me to bid me
good night. l went to him, and offered him
my hand, saying something-I forget what
some hope. perhaps, that he was not tired, to
which he made me no reply; but moment
after he gave me something better than an
answer.
Little Ruth he said as he held nv hand.
II know you have been very kind all through
this time. God bless you for your goodness
to my mother"
was left alone a minute afterwards, and
sat down in my plac. again, and the hands /
pressed against my face were wetted by two
great tears.
From this time forward saw Noel Erickson
every day: he was far too weak yet to go into
his studio, or even to be able to occupy him
self for more than a small portion of each day
Whilst this forced dleneSs lasted therefore,
he RENAME d with us. and sat with us in our
sitting room. Once such long com
paniOnship would have been irksome to me; it
was not irksome now. 1t was not rksonle, do
| say! God help me. Day after day | was
learning to know that TO be in Noel's pre-
sence--to hear the sound of Noel's voice-to
do even the slightest thing that child might
have done to serve him, were becoming the
very breath of my life to ME.
There was once service that he needed,
which it presently became my right-eagerly
taken possession of-jealously guarded--to
perform for him. While his sight was weak
my god-mother used 10 read to him. One
day she went for a few hours from home, aud
he was left with me. He was reading to him
self when she went away, but after time
the leaves of his book ceased to be turned. |
looked at him and found him leaning back
with his hand upon his eyes
Once, even though had been afraid of him,
l would, at that sight, have asked to be allow
ed to read to him. | feared him less now,
and yet could not 60 But the yearning TO
go rose in me-my heart beat fist-my hand
shook SO, that | could not work.
He took the book again and again his sight
failed him. This time, when he ceased to
read, he closed the volume, and put il from
him. Coward as | was, | rose from my scat
then aud went to him-the longing that was
in me grown stronger at last than the fear of
rejection.
MOL, will you let me read to your
asked, fearing to be denied. | expected,
at least, hesitation before he would accept me-
Instead of hesitation or denial there came
only this simple answer:
Thank you, Ruth" and he gave the book
into my hands.
took il, and read to him. l read for an
hour, sitting near him-low, near his feet
with no living creature between him and
me.
Reader, was happy; and the happiness of
that hour made me bold. When | gave him
back the book. said that il made me glad TO
Dc allowed To read To him.
lie looked at me as | spoke.
Does il, Rnth!'
"Noel, have never been able TO do any
thing for you before"
II did rot know that you cared to do any
thing
mo; bat do care
My voice was very low. Had been less,
near to him do not think he would have
heard it. As il was, he did hear, for he
answered me-
'iou may be my reader from this time, if
you will, Ruth"
MAY II oh I shall be eladir