Ruth could hardly find words in which to express the cry of her heart, but when she went downstairs half an hour later there was a peaceful look upon her face and a gladness in her very step which had been wanting since she came to Busyborough. She had sought and obtained pardon, and had rejoiced once more in the sweet texts which she read in her Bible. She added a long postscript to her home letter, and that night Ernest found upon his dressing-table a little twisted note containing these words-- "Dear Ernest,--Thank you for ever and ever. "Your forgiven and happy cousin, "Ruth." CHAPTER XIX. LIVING IT DOWN. The holidays were over about the end of January, and Ruth once more accompanied her cousin to Addison College. But she entered the schoolroom in a different spirit, distrusting self and relying only upon Divine help. She had need enough of grace and strength, for the day had not passed before the girls noticed that Miss Elgin had lost confidence in her and was inclined to regard her with distrust and suspicion, and they wondered greatly what had caused the change. Julia of course was questioned, and without really wishing to do her cousin an injury she gradually let out the facts concerning the prize. The girls took different views of the case, according to their liking for Ruth and their sense of right and wrong. There was a great deal of talk for a few days, and then the matter was forgotten by all but Miss Elgin, whose manner was a constant reminder of the affair. As for Ruth herself, she could _almost_ say, "None of these things move me," so trivial did they seem; for she was rejoicing in the consciousness of forgiveness and pardon, her heart was resting after its wanderings, filled with the "peace which passeth all understanding." The sheep had come back to the fold, there to abide, to find its shelter safer and sweeter than ever. Mrs. Arnold's reply to her daughter was at once tender, sorrowful, hopeful and motherly. She grieved over what had happened, but rejoiced that her child had no longer any secret to hide from her; she pointed out the only path of safety, and commended her to the care and keeping of the loving Father who had watched over her during all her waywardness and had brought her back to Himself. That letter aroused an intense longing for home, for a glimpse of all the dear faces which she had not seen for seven long months. August seemed so far away, though each day brought it nearer. Ernest had quite relapsed into his usual shy, quiet manner, and it was only occasionally that he was willing to talk with his cousin upon the one subject which was a bond of union between them. A change took place in the household early in March, for Gerald left home. His accident and subsequent explanations opened his father's eyes to shortcomings which he had for some time suspected, yet it was also the means of establishing a better relation between them.