`Not happier,' she sobbed, `than you make me. No one can be happier, John, than you make me!'
Fiery Face, provide yourself! The usual wages or the usual warning.
It's all over, Fiery Face. We needn't trouble you any further.
The little hands could meet each other now, without a rampant horse to urge them. There was no occasion for lions, bears, or mad bulls. It could all be done, and infinitely better, without their assistance. No burly drayman or big butts of beer, were wanted for apologies. No apology at all was wanted. The soft light touch fell coyly, but quite naturally, upon the lover's shoulder; the delicate waist, the drooping head, the blushing cheek, the beautiful eyes, the exquisite mouth itself, were all as natural as possible. If all the horses in Araby had run away at once, they couldn't have improved upon it.
They soon began to talk of Tom again.
`I hope he will be glad to hear of it!' said John, with sparkling eyes.
Ruth drew the little hands a little tighter when he said it, and looked up seriously into his face.
`I am never to leave him, am I, dear? I could never leave Tom.
I am sure you know that.'
`Do you think I would ask you?' he returned, with a -- well! Never mind with what.
`I am sure you never would,' she answered, the bright tears standing in her eyes.
`And I will swear it, Ruth, my darling, if you please. Leave Tom! That would be a strange beginning. Leave Tom, dear! If Tom and we be not inseparable, and Tom (God bless him) have not all honour and all love in our home, my little wife, may that home never be! And that's a strong oath, Ruth.'
Shall it be recorded how she thanked him? Yes, it shall. In all simplicity and innocence and purity of heart, yet with a timid, graceful, half-determined hesitation, she set a little rosy seal upon the vow, whose colour was reflected in her face, and flashed up to the braiding of her dark brown hair.
`Tom will be so happy, and so proud, and glad,' she said, clasping her little hands. `But so surprised! I am sure he had never thought of such a thing.'
Of course John asked her immediately -- because you know they were in that foolish state when great allowances must be made -- when she had begun to think of such a thing, and this made a little diversion in their talk; a charming diversion to them, but not so interesting to us; at the end of which, they came back to Tom again.
`Ah! dear Tom!' said Ruth. `I suppose I ought to tell you everything now. I should have no secrets from you. Should I, John, love?'
It is of no use saying how that preposterous John answered her because he answered in a manner which is untranslatable on paper though highly satisfactory in itself. But what he conveyed was, No no no, sweet Ruth, or something to that effect.
Then she told him Tom's great secret; not exactly saying how she had found it out, but leaving him to understand it if he liked; and John was sadly grieved to hear it, and was full of sympathy and sorrow. But they would try, he said, only the more, on this account to make him happy, and to beguile him with his favourite pursuits. And then, in all the confidence of such a time, he told her how he had a capital opportunity of establishing himself in his old profession in the country; and how he had been thinking, in the event of that happiness coming upon him which had actually come -- there was another slight diversion here -- how he had been thinking that it would afford occupation to Tom, and enable them to live together in the easiest manner, without any sense of dependence on Tom's part; and to be as happy as the day was long. And Ruth receiving this with joy, they went on catering for Tom to that extent that they had already purchased him a select library and built him an organ, on which he was performing with the greatest satisfaction: when they heard him knocking at the door.
Though she longed to tell him what had happened, poor little Ruth was greatly agitated by his arrival; the more so because she knew that Mr. Chuzzlewit was with him. So she said, all in a tremble:
`What shall I do, dear John! I can't bear that he should hear it from any one but me, and I could not tell him, unless we were alone.'
`Do, my love,' said John, `whatever is natural to you on the impulse of the moment, and I am sure it will be right.'
He had hardly time to say thus much, and Ruth had hardly time to -- just to get a little farther off upon the sofa, when Tom and Mr Chuzzlewit came in. Mr. Chuzzlewit came first, and Tom was a few seconds behind him.
Now Ruth had hastily resolved that she would beckon Tom upstairs after a short time, and would tell him in his little bedroom. But when she saw his dear old face come in, her heart was so touched that she ran into his arms, and laid her head down on his breast and sobbed out, `Bless me, Tom!
My dearest brother!'
Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John Westlock close beside him, holding out his hand.
`John!' cried Tom. `John!'
`Dear Tom,' said his friend, `give me your hand. We are brothers, Tom.'
Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fervently, and put her in John Westlock's arms.
`Don't speak to me, John. Heaven is very good to us. I --' Tom could find no further utterance, but left the room; and Ruth went after him.
And when they came back, which they did by-and-bye, she looked more beautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that were possible) than ever.
And though Tom could not speak upon the subject even now; being yet too newly glad: he put both his hands in both of John's with emphasis sufficient for the best speech ever spoken.
`I am glad you chose to-day,' said Mr. Chuzzlewit to John; with the same knowing smile as when they had left him. `I thought you would. I hoped Tom and I lingered behind a discreet time. It's so long since I had any practical knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, I assure you.'
`Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir,' returned John, laughing, `if it led you to foresee what would happen to-day.'