That night Philip Alston stayed later than usual at Cedar House. He was
waiting for the others to go to bed, so that he might have a quiet talk
with Ruth. On one or two rare occasions they had been left alone
together before the wide hearth, and they both looked back on these
times as among the pleasantest they had ever known. But the
opportunities for privacy are very few where there is only one living
room for an entire family, and the size and publicity of this great room
of Cedar House made them fewer than they could have been in almost any
other household. And Ruth, seeing what he wished, was looking forward
now with even greater delight than she had felt heretofore; the delight
that young love feels at the thought of giving its first confidence to a
loving, sympathetic heart. She looked at him often through the waiting,
with shining eyes, so happy, so eager to ask him to share her happiness
that she could hardly wait till the others were gone. William Pressley
did not tax her patience long and the judge, too, soon went away to his
cabin with David to see that he reached it safely. The old ladies were
slower in going; Miss Penelope had many domestic duties to perform, and
the movements of the widow Broadnax were always governed entirely by
hers. But they, also, went at last with Ruth to assist the stouter lady
in getting up the stairs.
The girl came flying down again, with her eyes dancing and her heart
playing a tune. Philip Alston rose as she approached, and stood awaiting
her with a look on his face that she had never seen before.
"You are tired, dear uncle Philip," she said, taking his hand and
holding it against her cheek as she raised her radiant eyes to his face.
"Come to the fire and take this big chair. I will sit on the footstool
at your knee. There, now! You can rest and be happy. Isn't it sweet to
be alone--just you and I--together like this! I love you so dearly, dear
uncle Philip. It seems as if I had never before really known just how
much I do love you. It seems as if my heart couldn't hold quite all the
happiness that fills it to-night. And the tenderness filling it to the
brim brings a new feeling of your goodness to me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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