judgment of her own conscience, and settled the affairs of all the world
in her own serene judgment hall. Perhaps her mother saw this, and saw
also that there was nothing in the Friends’ society to prevent her from
growing more and more opinionated.
When Ruth returned to Philadelphia, it must be confessed–though it would
not have been by her–that a medical career did seem a little less
necessary for her than formerly; and coming back in a glow of triumph, as
it were, and in the consciousness of the freedom and life in a lively
society and in new and sympathetic friendship, she anticipated pleasure
in an attempt to break up the stiffness and levelness of the society at
home, and infusing into it something of the motion and sparkle which were
so agreeable at Fallkill. She expected visits from her new friends, she
would have company, the new books and the periodicals about which all the
world was talking, and, in short, she would have life.
For a little while she lived in this atmosphere which she had brought
with her. Her mother was delighted with this change in her, with the
improvement in her health and the interest she exhibited in home affairs.
Her father enjoyed the society of his favorite daughter as he did few
things besides; he liked her mirthful and teasing ways, and not less a
keen battle over something she had read. He had been a great reader all
his life, and a remarkable memory had stored his mind with encyclopaedic
information. It was one of Ruth’s delights to cram herself with some out
of the way subject and endeavor to catch her father; but she almost
always failed. Mr. Bolton liked company, a house full of it, and the
mirth of young people, and he would have willingly entered into any
revolutionary plans Ruth might have suggested in relation to Friends’
society.
But custom and the fixed order are stronger than the most enthusiastic
and rebellious young lady, as Ruth very soon found. In spite of all her
brave efforts, her frequent correspondence, and her determined animation,
her books and her music, she found herself settling into the clutches of
the old monotony, and as she realized the hopelessness of her endeavors,
the medical scheme took new hold of her, and seemed to her the only
method of escape.
“Mother, thee does not know how different it is in Fallkill, how much
more interesting the people are one meets, how much more life there is.”
“But thee will find the world, child, pretty much all the same, when thee
knows it better. I thought once as thee does now, and had as little
thought of being a Friend as thee has. Perhaps when thee has seen more,
thee will better appreciate a quiet life.”
“Thee married young. I shall not marry young, and perhaps not at all,”
said Ruth, with a look of vast experience.
“Perhaps thee doesn’t know thee own mind ; I have known persons of thy
age who did not. Did thee see anybody whom thee would like to live with
always in Fallkill?”
“Not always,” replied Ruth with a little laugh. “Mother, I think I
wouldn’t say ‘always’ to any one until I have a profession and am as
independent as he is. Then my love would be a free act, and not in any
way a necessity.”
Margaret Bolton smiled at this new-fangled philosophy. “Thee will find
that love, Ruth, is a thing thee won’t reason about, when it comes, nor
make any bargains about. Thee wrote that Philip Sterling was at
Fallkill.”
“Yes, and Henry Brierly, a friend of his; a very amusing young fellow and
not so serious-minded as Philip, but a bit of a fop maybe.”
“And thee preferred the fop to the serious-minded?”
“I didn’t prefer anybody; but Henry Brierly was good company, which
Philip wasn’t always.”
“Did thee know thee father had been in correspondence with Philip?”
Ruth looked up surprised and with a plain question in her eyes.
“Oh, it’s not about thee.”
“What then?” and if there was any shade of disappointment in her tone,
probably Ruth herself did not know it.