Though Winfield had sternly determined to go back to town the following day,he did not achieve departure until later.Ruth went to the station with him,and desolation came upon her when the train pulled out,in spite of the new happiness in her heart.
She had little time to miss him,however,for,at the end of the week,and in accordance with immemorial custom,the Unexpected happened.
She was sitting at her window one morning,trying to sew,when the village chariot stopped at the gate and a lady descended.Joe stirred lazily on the front seat,but she said,in a clear,high-pitched voice:"You needn't trouble yourself,Joe.He'll carry the things."She came toward the house,fanning herself with a certain stateliness,and carrying her handkerchief primly,by the exact centre of it.In her wake was a little old gentleman,with a huge bundle,surrounded by a shawl-strap,a large valise,much the worse for wear,a telescope basket which was expanded to its full height,and two small parcels.A cane was tucked under one arm and an umbrella under the other.He could scarcely be seen behind the mountain of baggage.
Hepsey was already at the door."Why,Miss Hathaway!"she cried,in astonishment.
"'T ain't Miss Hathaway,"rejoined the visitor,with some asperity,"it's Mrs.Ball,and this is my husband.Niece Ruth,Ipresume,"she added,as Miss Thorne appeared."Ruth,let me introduce you to your Uncle James."The bride was of medium height and rather angular.Her eyes were small,dark,and so piercingly brilliant that they suggested jet beads.Her skin was dark and her lips had been habitually compressed into a straight line.None the less,it was the face that Ruth had seen in the ambrotype at Miss Ainslie's,with the additional hardness that comes to those who grow old without love.Her bearing was that of a brisk,active woman,accustomed all her life to obedience and respect.
Mr.Ball was two or three inches shorter than his wife,and had a white beard,irregularly streaked with brown.He was baldheaded in front,had scant,reddish hair in the back,and his faded blue eyes were tearful.He had very small feet and the unmistakable gait of a sailor.Though there was no immediate resemblance,Ruth was sure that he was the man whose picture was in Aunt Jane's treasure chest in the attic.The daredevil look was gone,however,and he was merely a quiet,inoffensive old gentleman,for whom life had been none too easy.
"Welcome to your new home,James,"said his wife,in a crisp,businesslike tone,which but partially concealed a latent tenderness.He smiled,but made no reply.
Hepsey still stood in the parlour,in wide mouthed astonishment,and it was Ruth's good fortune to see the glance which Mrs.Ball cast upon her offending maid.There was no change of expression except in the eyes,but Hepsey instantly understood that she was out of her place,and retreated to the kitchen with a flush upon her cheeks,which was altogether foreign to Ruth's experience.
"You can set here,James,"resumed Mrs.Ball,"until I have taken off my things."The cherries on her black straw bonnet were shaking on their stems in a way which fascinated Ruth."I'll take my things out of the south room,Aunty,"she hastened to say.
"You won't,neither,"was the unexpected answer;"that's the spare room,and,while you stay,you'll stay there."Ruth was wondering what to say to her new uncle and sat in awkward silence as Aunt Jane ascended the stairs.Her step sounded lightly overhead and Mr.Ball twirled his thumbs absently."You--you've come a long way,haven't you?"she asked.
"Yes'm,a long way."Then,seemingly for the first time,he looked at her,and a benevolent expression came upon his face.
"You've got awful pretty hair,Niece Ruth,"he observed,admiringly;"now Mis'Ball,she wears a false front."The lady of the house returned at this juncture,with the false front a little askew."I was just a-sayin',"Mr.Ball continued,"that our niece is a real pleasant lookin'woman.""She's your niece by marriage,"his wife replied,"but she ain't no real relative.""Niece by merriage is relative enough,"said Mr.Ball,"and I say she's a pleasant lookin'woman,ain't she,now?""She'll do,I reckon.She resembles her Ma."Aunt Jane looked at Ruth,as if pitying the sister who had blindly followed the leadings of her heart and had died unforgiven.
"Why didn't you let me know you were coming,Aunt Jane?"asked Ruth."I've been looking for a letter every day and I understood you weren't coming back until October.""I trust I am not unwelcome in my own house,"was the somewhat frigid response.
"No indeed,Aunty--I hope you've had a pleasant time.""We've had a beautiful time,ain't we,James?We've been on our honeymoon.""Yes'm,we hev been on our honeymoon,travellin'over strange lands an'furrin wastes of waters.Mis'Ball was terrible sea sick comin'here.""In a way,"said Aunt Jane,"we ain't completely married.We was married by a heathen priest in a heathen country and it ain't rightfully bindin',but we thought it would do until we could get back here and be married by a minister of the gospel,didn't we,James?""It has held,"he said,without emotion,"but I reckon we will hev to be merried proper.""Likewise I have my weddin'dress,"Aunt Jane went on,"what ain't never been worn.It's a beautiful dress--trimmed with pearl trimmin'"--here Ruth felt the pangs of a guilty conscience--"and I lay out to be married in it,quite private,with you and Hepsey for witnesses.""Why,it's quite a romance,isn't it,Aunty?""'T is in a way,"interjected Mr.Ball,"and in another way,'t ain't.""Yes,Ruth,"Aunt Jane continued,ignoring the interruption,"'t is a romance--a real romance,"she repeated,with all the hard lines in her face softened."We was engaged over thirty-five year.James went to sea to make a fortin',so he could give me every luxury.It's all writ out in a letter I've got upstairs.
