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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Other Things Being Equal
+
+Author: Emma Wolf
+
+Posting Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #1839]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+Last Updated: November 20, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Cantalupo
+
+
+
+
+
+OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL
+
+By Emma Wolf
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+A humming-bird dipped through the air and lit upon the palm-tree just
+below the open window; the long drowsy call of a crowing cock came from
+afar off; the sun spun down in the subdued splendor of a hazy veil. It
+was a dustless, hence an anomalous, summer’s afternoon in San Francisco.
+
+Ruth Levice sat near the window, lazily rocking, her long lithe arms
+clasped about her knees, her face a dream of the day. The seasons single
+out their favorite moods: a violet of spring-time woos one, a dusky June
+rose another; to-day the soft, languorous air had, unconsciously to her,
+charmed the girl’s waking dream.
+
+So removed was she in spirit from her surroundings that she heard with
+an obvious start a knock at the door. The knock was immediately followed
+by a smiling, plump young woman, sparkling of eye, rosy of cheek, and
+glistening with jewels and silk.
+
+“Here you are, Ruth,” she exclaimed, kissing her heartily; whereupon
+she sank into a chair, and threw back her bonnet-strings with an air of
+relief. “I came up here at once when the maid said your mother was out.
+Where is she?”
+
+“Out calling. You look heated, Jennie; let me fan you.”
+
+“Thanks. How refreshing! Sandal-wood, is it not? Where is your father?”
+
+“He is writing in the library. Do you wish to see him?”
+
+“Oh, no, no! I must see you alone. I am so glad Aunt Esther is out. Why
+aren’t you with her, Ruth? You should not let your mother go off alone.”
+
+The young girl laughed in merry surprise.
+
+“Why, Jennie, you forgot that Mamma has been used all her life to going
+out without me; it is only within the last few months that I have been
+her companion.”
+
+“I know,” replied her visitor, leaning back with a grim expression of
+disapproval, “and I think it the queerest arrangement I ever heard
+of. The idea of a father having the sole care of a daughter up to her
+twenty-first birthday, and then delivering her, like a piece of joint
+property, over to her mother! Oh, I know that according to their lights
+it did not seem absurd, but the very idea of it is contrary to nature.
+Of course we all know that your father was peculiarly fitted to
+undertake your training, and in this way your mother could more easily
+indulge her love of society; but as it is, no wonder she is as jealous
+of your success in her realm as your father was in his; no wonder she
+overdoes things to make up for lost time. How do you like it, Ruth?”
+
+“What?” softly inquired her cousin, slowly waving the dainty fan, while
+a smile lighted up the gravity of her face at this onslaught.
+
+“Going out continually night after night.”
+
+“Mamma likes it.”
+
+“Cela va sans dire. But, Ruth,--stop fanning a minute, please,--I want
+to know, candidly and seriously, would you mind giving it up?”
+
+“Candidly and seriously, I would do so to-day forever.”
+
+“Ye-es; your father’s daughter,” said Mrs. Lewis, speaking more slowly,
+her bright eyes noting the perfect repose of the young girl’s person;
+“and yet you are having some quiet little conquests,--the golden apples
+of your mother’s Utopia. But to come to the point, do you realize that
+your mother is very ill?”
+
+“Ill--my mother?” The sudden look of consternation that scattered the
+soft tranquillity of her face must have fully repaid Mrs. Lewis if she
+was aiming at a sensation.
+
+“There, sit down. Don’t be alarmed; you know she is out and apparently
+well.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean that Aunt Esther is nervous and hysterical. The other day at our
+house she had such an attack of hysteria that I was obliged to call in
+a neighboring doctor. She begged us not to mention it to either of
+you, and then insisted on attending a meeting of some sort. However, I
+thought it over and decided to let you know, as I consider it serious. I
+was afraid to alarm Uncle, so I thought of telling you.”
+
+“Thank you, Jennie; I shall speak to Father about it.” The young girl’s
+tone was quite unagitated; but two pink spots on her usually colorless
+cheeks betrayed her emotion.
+
+“That is right, dear. I hope you will forgive me if I seem meddlesome,
+but Jo and I have noticed it for some time; and your father, by allowing
+this continual gayety, seems to have overlooked what we find so sadly
+apparent. Of course you have an engagement for to-night?”
+
+“Yes; we are going to a reception at the Merrills’.”
+
+“Merrill? Christians?” was the sharp reply.
+
+“The name speaks for itself.”
+
+“What does possess your parents to mix so much with Christians?”
+
+“Fellow-feeling, I suppose. We all dance and talk alike; and as we do
+not hold services at receptions, wherein lies the difference?”
+
+“There is a difference; and the Christians know it as well as we Jewish
+people. Not only do they know it, but they show it in countless ways;
+and the difference, they think, is all to their credit. For my part, I
+always feel as if they looked down on us, and I should like to prove to
+them how we differ on that point. I have enough courage to let them know
+I consider myself as good as the best of them.”
+
+“Is that why you wear diamonds and silk on the street, Jennie?” asked
+Ruth, her serious tones implying no impudence, but carrying a refined
+reproach.
+
+“Hardly. I wear them because I have them and like them. I see no harm in
+wearing what is becoming.”
+
+“But don’t you think they look aggressive on the street? They attract
+attention; and one hates to be conspicuous. I think they are only in
+place at a gathering of friends of one’s own social standing, where they
+do not proclaim one’s moneyed value.”
+
+“Perhaps,” replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier than
+before. “I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so. But I
+scarcely think a little outward show of riches should make others feel
+they are better because they do not care to make a display. Besides, to
+be less personal, I don’t think any Christian would care to put himself
+out to meet a Jew of any description.”
+
+“Don’t you think it would depend a great deal both on Jew and Christian?
+I always have been led to believe that every broad-minded man of
+whatever sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any other
+man. And why should I not move on an equality with my Christian friends?
+We have had the same schooling, speak the same language, read the same
+books, are surrounded by the same elements of home refinement. Probably
+if they had not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased to
+associate with them. I think the secret of it all is in the fact that
+it never occurred to us that the most fastidious could think we were
+anything but the most fastidious; and so we always met any one we
+desired to meet on a level footing. I have a great many pleasant friends
+in the court of your Philistines.”
+
+“Possibly. But not having been brought up by your father, I think
+differently, and perhaps am different. Their ways are not my ways; and
+what good can you expect from such association?”
+
+“Why, pleasant companionship. What wouldst thou more?”
+
+“I? Not even that. But tell me, can’t you dissuade Aunt Esther from
+going to-night? Tell your father, and let him judge if you had better
+not.”
+
+“I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much to
+Father; but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on our
+going to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, although
+Louis is going also. But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, I
+shall tell him immediately, and--”
+
+A blithe voice at the door interrupted her, calling:
+
+“Open the door, Ruth; my hands are full.”
+
+She rose hastily, and with a signal of silence to her loquacious cousin,
+opened the door for her mother.
+
+“Ah, Jennie, how are your, dear? But let us inspect this box which Nora
+has just handed me, before we consider you;” and Mrs. Levice softly
+deposited a huge box upon Ruth’s lace-enveloped bed.
+
+She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clear
+olive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears. From the
+crown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the picture
+of exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her head
+like a queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more like
+Ruth’s older sister than her mother.
+
+“Ruth’s gown for this evening,” she announced, deftly unfolding the
+wrappings.
+
+“Yellow!” exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise.
+
+“Corn-color,” corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; “how do you think it
+will suit my girlie?” She continued, shaking out the clinging silken
+crepe.
+
+“Charmingly; but I thought Ruth objected to anything but white.”
+
+“So she does; she thinks white keeps her unnoticed among the rest. This
+time, however, my will overrode hers. Eh, Daughter?”
+
+The girl made a low courtesy.
+
+“I am only lady-in-waiting to your Majesty, O Queen,” she laughed. She
+had hardly glanced at the gown, being engaged in a silent scrutiny of
+her mother’s face.
+
+“And how is my prime minister this afternoon?” Mrs. Levice was drawing
+off her gloves, and Ruth’s look of pained discovery passed unnoticed.
+
+“I have not been down since luncheon,” she replied.
+
+“What! Then go down at once and bring him up. I must see that he gets
+out of his studiousness and is clothed in festive mind for this evening.
+Come to my sitting-room, Jennie, and we can have a comfortable chat.”
+
+Left to herself, Ruth hesitated before going to her father with her
+ill-boding tidings. None knew better than she of the great, silent
+love that bound her parents. As a quiet, observant child, she had often
+questioned wherein could be any sympathy between her father, almost old,
+studious, and reserved, and her beautiful, worldly young mother. But
+as she matured, she became conscious that because of this apparent
+disparity it would have been still stranger had Mrs. Levice not loved
+him with a feeling verging nearer humble adoration than any lower
+passion. It seemed almost a mockery for her to have to tell him he had
+been negligent,--not only a mockery, but a cruelty. However, it had
+to be done, and she was the only one to do it. Having come to this
+conclusion, she ran quickly downstairs, and softly, without knocking,
+opened the library door.
+
+She entered so quietly that Mr. Levice, reading by the window, did
+not glance from his book. She stood a moment regarding the small
+thoughtful-faced, white-haired man.
+
+If one were to judge but by results, Jules Levice would be accounted a
+fortunate man. Nearing the allotted threescore and ten, blessed with
+a loving, beloved wife and this one idolized ewe-lamb, surrounded by
+luxury, in good health, honored, and honorable,--trouble and travail
+seemed to have passed him by. But this scene of human happiness was the
+result of intelligent and unremitting effort. A high state of earthly
+beatitude has seldom been attained without great labor of mind or body
+by ourselves or those akin to us. Jules Levice had been thrown on the
+world when a boy of twelve. He resolved to become happy. Many of us do
+likewise; but we overlook the fact that we are provided with feet, not
+wings, and cannot fly to the goal. His dream of happiness was ambitious;
+it soared beyond contentment. Not being a lily of the field, he knew
+that he must toil; any honest work was acceptable to him. He was
+possessed of a fine mind; he cultivated it. He had a keen observation;
+he became a student of his fellow-men; and being strong and untiring, he
+became rich. This was but the nucleus of his ambitions, and it came to
+him late in life, but not too late for him to build round it his happy
+home, and to surround himself with the luxuries of leisure for attaining
+the pinnacle of wide information that he had always craved. His was
+merely the prosperity of an intellectual, self-made man whose time for
+rest had come.
+
+Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
+her hand upon his.
+
+“You, darling?” He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
+accent.
+
+“Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?”
+
+“I am all ears;” he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.
+
+“Jennie was here just now.”
+
+“And did not come in to see me?”
+
+“She had something to tell me.”
+
+“A secret?”
+
+“Yes; something I must repeat to you.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“Father--Jennie thinks--she has reason to know that--dear, do you think
+Mother is perfectly well?”
+
+“No, my child; I know she is not.”
+
+This quiet assurance was staggering.
+
+“And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a physician?”
+ A wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“But--but--why?” She became a little confused under his calm gaze,
+feeling on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.
+
+“Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past week.
+Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me.”
+
+“Did she admit it?”
+
+“I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she
+wishes to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my
+discovery.”
+
+“But isn’t it wrong--unwise--to allow her to dissipate so much?”
+
+“I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible.”
+
+“But to-night--forgive me, Father--you insist on our going to this
+reception.”
+
+“Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason,--one not to be
+spoken of.”
+
+“‘Those who trust us educate us,’” she pleaded in wistful earnestness.
+
+“Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would resist
+seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to her
+desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor
+whom I would trust professionally with my wife’s life, and on whom I
+can rely for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their
+meeting. What do you think of my way, dear?”
+
+For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.
+
+“May I know his name?” she asked after a pause.
+
+“His name is Kemp,--Dr. Herbert Kemp.”
+
+“Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign. Is he an
+old physician?”
+
+“I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not old
+certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally he
+is a man of great dignity, inspiring confidence in every one.”
+
+“Where did you meet him?”
+
+“In the hospitals,” said her father quickly. “But I will introduce him
+to you to-night. Don’t lose your head when you talk to him.”
+
+“Why should I?”
+
+“Because he is a magnificent fellow; and I wish my daughter to hold her
+own before a man whom I admire so heartily.”
+
+“Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice,” she
+laughed.
+
+“Only a friendly hint,” he answered, rising and putting his book in its
+place with the precision of a spinster.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+“This is what I call a worldly paradise!” A girl with a face like dear
+Lady Disdain’s sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voice
+chimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the soft
+strains of remote stringed instruments.
+
+“Is it a frivolous conceit?” she continued, laughing up to the man who
+stood beside her; “or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,
+radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also that
+such a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?”
+
+“You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothing
+can be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full of
+guests.”
+
+“And leaving out the guests?”
+
+“They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given the
+necessary contingencies.”
+
+“A solitude of two who love? Dr. Kemp, methinks you are a romantic.”
+
+“You supplied the romance, Miss Gwynne. My knowledge is of the hard,
+matter-of-fact sort.”
+
+“Such as bones, I suppose. Still you seem to be interested in the
+soft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet.”
+
+“Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy’s definition of a
+vacuum,--a large space with nothing in it. Who is he?”
+
+“And I thought you not unknown! He is the husband of a brilliant woman,
+Mrs. Ames, who has written a novel.”
+
+“Clever?”
+
+“Decidedly so; it stands the test of being intoxicating and leaving a
+bad taste in the mouth,--like dry champagne.”
+
+“Which is not made for women.”
+
+“You mean school-girls. There she is,--that wisp of a creature listening
+so eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder he
+interests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal history
+as a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as a
+social city directory.”
+
+“You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen a
+leaf from him?”
+
+“Dr. Kemp!” she exclaimed in pouting reproach, “do I appear as
+promiscuous as that? You may call me a ‘blue book,’ but spare my
+snobbery the opprobrious epithet of ‘directory.’ There goes the
+fascinating young Mrs. Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Did
+you catch the fine oratory of the glance she threw us? It said, ‘Dorothy
+Gwynne, how dare you appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes? Hand him
+over; pass him around. I want him; you are only boring him, though you
+seem to be amusing yourself.”
+
+Kemp’s grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt amused.
+
+“Aren’t you improvising?” he asked. A man need only offer an occasional
+bumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when his
+companion is a woman.
+
+“No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words. Ah,
+here comes the Queen of Sheba.” She broke off with a pleased smile as
+Ruth Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.
+
+Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together they
+were doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying his
+head high, fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarly
+distinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasized
+slightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.
+Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inches
+shorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crown
+of his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short women
+resented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoe
+to speak to him.
+
+There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy,
+colorless face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was loosely
+rolled from her forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brown
+beneath delicately pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of her
+face. But the languorous air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in the
+sweet sympathy of her glance, and in a certain alertness about the poise
+of her head.
+
+Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne’s slight signal.
+
+“Where are you hastening?” she asked as they turned to greet her. “One
+would think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you to
+the beauties scattered about.” She looked up pertly at Arnold, after
+giving one comprehensive glance over Ruth’s toilet.
+
+“We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears,” he answered,
+with pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile, “I
+did not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other ground
+that it would have been cruelty to disturb you.” He spoke the language
+slowly, as a stranger upon foreign ground.
+
+“Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Sheba
+and her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?” She paused a moment as
+the parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke in
+rather breathlessly: “There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; do
+not let your republican ignorance forget her proper title. Mr. Arnold,
+Mrs. Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?” and with a naive,
+superbly impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he could
+murmur an excuse.
+
+At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth’s face.
+
+“Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go and
+see the orchids?” The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusion
+and calmed her self-consciousness. She raised her eyes to the dark,
+clever face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face.
+From the broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of the
+gray eyes, to the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard,
+strength and gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore the
+stamp of a letter of credit.
+
+“Thank you,” said she; “I think I shall sit here. My cousin will
+probably be back soon.”
+
+The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne’s appellation was
+not inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her more
+conventional title.
+
+“This is a peaceful little corner,” he said. “Do you notice how removed
+it seems from the rest of the room?”
+
+“Yes,” she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantly
+questioning look with one of swift resolve. “Dr. Kemp, I wish to tell
+you that my father has confided to me your joint secret.”
+
+“Your father?” he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen of
+Sheba’s progenitors was vague.
+
+“My father, yes,” she repeated, smiling at his perplexity. “Our name is
+not very common; I am Jules Levice’s daughter.”
+
+He was about to exclaim “NO!” The kinship seemed ridiculous in the face
+of this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-faced
+Jew. What he did say was,--
+
+“Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine. He is present, is he not?”
+
+“Yes. Have you met my mother yet?”
+
+The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of this
+beautiful face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones held
+an uncommon charm.
+
+“No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before the
+evening is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the ‘shop’ which
+I have of a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seen
+any signs of illness in your mother?”
+
+“No; I have been very blind and selfish,” she replied, somewhat
+bitterly, “for every one but me seems to have seen that something was
+wrong. She has been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fear
+has been burning the candle at both ends for my light. I wish I had
+known--probably it lay just within my hand to prevent this, instead of
+leading her on by my often expressed delight. What I wish to ask you
+is that if you find anything serious, you will tell me, and allay my
+father’s fears as much as possible. Please do this for me. My father is
+not young; and I, I think, am trustworthy.”
+
+She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking her
+companion full in the face.
+
+The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before he
+answered. Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence.
+
+“That is a pact,” he said lightly; “but in all probability your father’s
+fears are exaggerated.”
+
+“‘Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears,’” she quoted,
+softly flushing. The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keeping
+his eyes intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that made
+his companion feel that they two were exclusively alone,--a sensation
+that was slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance. By and by one
+understood that it was merely his air of interest that evoked the
+feeling, and so gradually got used to it as to one of his features.
+
+“That is so,” he replied cheerily; “and--I see some one is about to
+play. Mrs. Merrill told me we should have some music.”
+
+“It is Louis, I think; I know his touch.”
+
+“Your cousin? He plays?”
+
+Ruth looked at him in questioning wonder. Truth to say, the doctor could
+not but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnold
+in the light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after the
+opening chords. Rubenstein’s Melody in F, played by a master-hand, is
+one long sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisite
+rapture. Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived in
+his soul was magnificently interpreted. As he finished, there was not a
+murmur; and the next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle that
+instantly dispelled the former spell of grandeur.
+
+“An artist,” said some one standing near.
+
+“Something more,” murmured Kemp, rising as he saw Ruth do so. He was
+about to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman,
+stepped up to them, and laying her hand upon Ruth’s shoulder, said
+rather hurriedly,--
+
+“I am sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but Mrs. Levice--do not be alarmed,
+Ruth dear--has become somewhat hysterical, and we cannot calm her; will
+you come this way, please, and no one need know she is in the study.”
+
+“My family is making itself prominent to-night,” said Ruth, with a
+little catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through the
+conservatory and so across the hall.
+
+“I shall be here, Doctor, if you wish anything,” said Mrs. Merrill,
+standing without as he and Ruth entered and immediately shut the door
+after them.
+
+“Stay there,” he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quite
+still where he left her. Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chair
+with her back to the door; her husband had drawn her head to his bosom.
+There was no one else in the room, and for a second not a sound, till
+Mrs. Levice began to sob in a frightened manner.
+
+“It’s nothing at all, Jules,” she cried, trying to laugh and failing
+lamentably; “I--I’m only silly.”
+
+“There, dear, don’t talk.” Levice’s face was white as he soothingly
+stroked her hair.
+
+“Oh!”
+
+The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon her
+shoulders, motioned Levice aside.
+
+“Hush! Not a word!”
+
+At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriek
+stopped halfway.
+
+“Be perfectly still,” he continued, holding her firmly. “Obey this
+instant,” as she began to whimper; “not a sound must I hear.”
+
+Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger’s
+measures. For a moment Mrs. Levice had started in affright to scream;
+but the deep, commanding tone, the powerful hands upon her shoulders,
+the impressive, unswerving eye that held hers, soon began to act almost
+hypnotically. The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowly
+regained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained look
+in her eyes melted. She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in response
+to his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of his
+countenance.
+
+“That is well,” said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and still
+keeping his smiling eyes upon hers. “Now just close your eyes for a
+minute; see, I have your hand,--so. Go to sleep.”
+
+There was not a sound in the room; Ruth stood where she had been placed,
+and Mr. Levice was behind the doctor, his face quite colorless, scarcely
+daring to breathe. Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice told
+that she slept.
+
+Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, which
+hisses, but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed the
+lightest sleeper.
+
+“Put your hand, palm up, under hers. I am going to withdraw my hand and
+retire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyes
+in a few moments. Take her home as quietly as you can.”
+
+“You will call to-morrow?” whispered Levice.
+
+He quietly assented.
+
+“Now be deft.” The transfer was quickly made, and nodding cheerfully,
+Dr. Kemp left the room.
+
+Ruth came forward. Five minutes later Mrs. Levice opened her eyes.
+
+“Why, what has happened?” she asked languidly.
+
+“You fell asleep, Esther,” replied her husband, gently.
+
+“Yes, I know; but why is Ruth in that gown? Oh--ye-es!” Consciousness
+was returning to her. “And who was that handsome man who was here?”
+
+“A friend of Ruth.”
+
+“He is very strong,” she observed pensively. She lay back in her chair
+for a few minutes as if dreaming. Suddenly she started up.
+
+“What thoughtless people we are! Let us go back to the drawing-room, or
+they will think something dreadful has happened.”
+
+“No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back. Stay here with Father
+while I get our wraps.”
+
+Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room. As she turned in
+the direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid upon
+her shoulder.
+
+“Oh, you, Louis! I am going for our wraps.”
+
+“Here they are. How is my aunt?”
+
+“She is quite herself again. Thanks for the wraps. Will you call up the
+carriage, Louis? We shall go immediately, but do not think of coming
+yourself.”
+
+“Nonsense! Tell your mother you have made your adieux to Mrs.
+Merrill,--she understands; the carriage is waiting.”
+
+A few minutes later the Levices and Louis Arnold quietly stole away.
+Mrs. Levice has had an attack of hysteria. “Nothing at all,” the world
+said, and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-points
+in a life-history are dismissed.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+The Levices’ house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an air
+of reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed houses
+that faced it and hedged it in on both sides. But the broad, sweeping
+lawns, the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open path
+to the veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, the
+long French windows open this summer’s morning to sun and air, told an
+inviting tale.
+
+As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he looked
+around approvingly.
+
+“Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm,” he mused as he rang the
+bell.
+
+It was immediately answered by the “grave little bookworm” in person.
+
+“I’ve been on the lookout for you for the past hour,” he explained,
+leading him into the library and turning the key of the door as they
+entered.
+
+It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, but
+large and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs,
+a lounge or two, a woman’s low rocker, an open piano, a few soft
+engravings on the walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books on
+stands, books everywhere. Two long lace-draped windows let in a flood
+of searching sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in the
+remotest corner. It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess to
+keep her house as clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirt
+might be served upon her.
+
+“Will you not be seated?” asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latter
+stood drawing off his gloves.
+
+“Is your wife coming down here?”
+
+“No; she is in her room yet.”
+
+“Then let us go up immediately. I am not at leisure.”
+
+“I know. Still I wish to ask you to treat whatever ailments you may find
+as lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxiety
+or worry of any kind. It will be necessary to tell only me, and every
+precaution will be taken.”
+
+Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the brunt
+of the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing it
+secretly for some time. Probably a very united family, loving and
+unselfish doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in the
+face of the old gentleman’s dignified appeal.
+
+“Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of my
+visit?” He moved toward the door.
+
+“Ruth--my daughter, you know--was about to tell her as I left the room.”
+
+“Then we will go up directly.”
+
+Levice preceded him up the broad staircase. As they reached the landing,
+he turned to the doctor.
+
+“Pardon my care, but I must make sure that Ruth has told her. Just
+step into the sitting-room a second,” and the precautious husband went
+forward to his wife’s bedroom, leaving the door open.
+
+Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the following
+words:--
+
+“And being interested in nervous diseases,” the peculiarly low voice was
+saying, “he told Father he would call and see you,--out of professional
+curiosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be often taken as
+you were last night, should we?”
+
+“People with plenty of time on their hands,” soliloquized the doctor,
+looking at his watch in the hallway.
+
+“What is his name, did you say?”
+
+“Dr. Herbert Kemp.”
+
+“What! Don’t you know that Dr. Kemp is one of the first physicians in
+the city? Every one knows he has no time for curiosity. Nervous diseases
+are his specialty; and do you think he would come without--”
+
+“Being asked?” interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had remembered
+the flight of time, and walked in unannounced.
+
+“Keep your seat,” he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excited
+blood springing to her cheeks.
+
+“You hardly need an introduction, Esther,” said Levice. “You remember
+Dr. Kemp from last night?”
+
+“Yes. Don’t go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn’t you something to do
+downstairs?”
+
+Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her trouble
+from his tender watchfulness? Great dark rings encircled her now
+feverishly bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drew
+aside, her mother’s shaking fingers held tight to her hand.
+
+“I have nothing in the world to do,” replied Levice, heartily; “I am
+going to sit right here and get interested.”
+
+“You will have to submit to a friendly cross-examination, Mrs. Levice,”
+ said the physician.
+
+He drew a chair up before her and took both her hands in his. As
+Ruth relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantly
+authoritative gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, left
+the room.
+
+She descended a few steps to the windowed landing. Here she intended
+joining the doctor on his way down. Probably her father would follow
+him; but it was her intention to intercept any such plan. A fog had
+arisen, and the struggling rosy beams of the sun glimmered opalescently
+through the density. Ruth thought it would be clear by noon, when she
+and her mother could go for a stirring tramp. She stood lost in thought
+till a firm footfall on the stairs aroused her.
+
+“I see Miss Levice here; don’t come down,” Kemp was saying. “What further
+directions I have must be given to a woman.”
+
+“Stay with Mamma, Father,” called Ruth, looking up at her hesitating
+father; “I shall see the doctor out;” and she quickly ran down the few
+remaining steps to Kemp, awaiting her at the foot. She opened the
+door of the library, and closing it quickly behind them, turned to him
+expectantly.
+
+“Nothing to be alarmed at,” he said, answering her mute inquiry. He
+seated himself at the table, and drew from his vest-pocket pencil and
+blank. Without another glance at the girl, he wrote rapidly for some
+minutes; then quickly moving back his chair, he arose and handed her the
+two slips of paper.
+
+“The first is a tonic which you will have made up,” he explained,
+picking up his gloves and hat and moving toward the door; “the other is
+a diet which you are to observe. As I told her just now, she must remain
+in bed and see no one but her immediate family; you must see that she
+hears and reads nothing exciting. That is all, I think.”
+
+Indignation and alarm held riot in Ruth’s face and arrested the doctor’s
+departure.
+
+“Dr. Kemp,” she said, “you force me to remind you of a promise you made
+me last night. Will you at least tell me what ails my mother that you
+use such strenuous measures?”
+
+A flash of recollection came to the doctor’s eyes.
+
+“Why, this is an unpardonable breach upon my part, Miss Levice; but I
+will tell you all the trouble. Your mother is suffering with a certain
+form of hysteria to a degree that would have prostrated her had we not
+come forward in time. As it is, by prostrating her ourselves for awhile,
+say a month or so, she will regain her equilibrium. You have heard of
+the food and rest cure?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, that is what she will undergo mildly. Has she any duties that
+will suffer by her neglect or that will intrude upon her equanimity?”
+
+“No necessary ones but those of the house. Under no circumstances can I
+conceive of her giving up their supervision.”
+
+“Yet she must do so under the present state of affairs. Remember, her
+mind must be kept unoccupied, but time must be made to pass pleasantly
+for her. This is not an easy task, Miss Levice; but, according to my
+promise, I have left you to undertake it.”
+
+“Thank you,” she responded quietly.
+
+Kemp looked at her with a sense of calm satisfaction.
+
+“Good-morning,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile.
+
+As the door closed behind him, Ruth felt as if a burden had fallen from,
+instead of upon her. For the last twenty-four hours her apprehensions
+had been excessive. Now, though she knew positively that her mother’s
+condition needed instant and constant care, which she must herself
+assume, all sense of responsibility fell from her. The few quiet words
+of this strange physician had made her trust his strength as she would
+a rock. She could not have explained why it was so; but as her father
+remarked once, she might have said, “I trust him implicitly, because,
+though a man of superiority, he implicitly trusts himself.”
+
+As she re-entered her mother’s room, her father regarded her intently.
+
+“So we are going to make a baby of you, Mamma,” she cried playfully,
+coming forward and folding her arms around her mother, who lay on the
+lounge.
+
+“So he says; and what he says one cannot resist.” There was an apathetic
+ring to her mother’s voice that surprised her. Quickly the thought
+flashed through her that she was too weary to resist now that she was
+found out.
+
+“Then we won’t try to,” Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge of
+the lounge close to her mother. From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted with
+remorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovely
+young daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothed
+her hair.
+
+“And if you are to be baby,” she continued, smiling down, “I shall
+have to change places with you, and become mother. You will see what a
+capital one I shall make. Let’s see, what are the duties? First, baby
+must be kept clean and sweet,--I am an artist at that; secondly, Father
+and the rest of us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third--”
+
+“I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;” the
+gentle meaning of her father’s words and glance caused Ruth to flush
+with pleasure. When Levice said, “My child,” the words were a caress.
+“Just believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was ‘Whatever
+you do, do thoroughly.’ She had to learn it through experience. But as
+you trust me, trust my pupil.”
+
+The soft smile that played upon her husband’s face was reflected on Mrs.
+Levice’s.
+
+“Oh, Ruth,” she murmured tremulously, “it will be so hard for you.”
+
+This was a virtual laying down of arms, and Ruth was satisfied.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+Louis Arnold, the only other member of the Levice family, had been
+forced to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice’s
+attack at the Merrill reception. He was, therefore, much surprised and
+shocked on his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and such
+rigorous measures for quiet in vogue.
+
+Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years. He
+was a direct importation from France, which he had left just before
+attaining his majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductive
+to his imagination. He had no sooner taken up his abode with his uncle
+than he was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreign
+vertu in the beautiful house.
+
+Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he was
+soon able to take almost the entire charge of Levice’s affairs. In a few
+years his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities. From
+the time he arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt’s
+escort, thus again relieving Levice, who preferred the quieter life.
+
+When Ruth began to go into society, his presence was almost a necessity,
+as Jewish etiquette, or rather Jewish espionage, forbids a young man
+unattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a single
+woman. This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got into
+for keeping the young people apart,--making cowards of the young men,
+and depriving the young girls of a great deal of innocent pleasure.
+
+Arnold, however, was not an escort to be despised, as Ruth soon
+discovered. She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool,
+quizzical manner and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from the
+more girlish admiration of his distinguished person. He and Ruth were
+great friends in a quiet, unspoken way.
+
+They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of his
+return. Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting with
+her. Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feel
+lonesome in the changed aspect of the house.
+
+Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward and
+forward in the rocker.
+
+“What I am surprised at,” he was saying, “is that my aunt submits to
+this confining treatment;” he pronounced the last word “tritment,” but
+he never stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding a
+certain piquancy to his speech.
+
+“You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows his
+directions blindly.”
+
+“So I have heard from a great many--women.”
+
+“And not men?”
+
+“I have never happened to hold a conversation with a man on the powers
+of Dr. Kemp. Women delight in such things.”
+
+“What things?”
+
+“Why, giving in to the magnetic power of a strong man.”
+
+“You err slightly, Louis; it is the power, not the giving in that we
+delight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness.”
+
+“Will you allow me to differ with you? Besides, apart from this great
+first cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has not
+rebelled.”
+
+“I think I can answer that satisfactorily,” replied his cousin, a
+mischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong white
+teeth; “she is in love.”
+
+“Also?”
+
+“With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best. Love is
+also something every one loves to give in to.”
+
+“Every one who loves, you mean.”
+
+“Every one loves something or some one.”
+
+“Behold the exception, therefore.” He moved his head so as to get a
+better view of her.
+
+“I do not believe you.”
+
+“That--is rude.” He kept his eyes meditatively fixed upon her.
+
+“Have you made a discovery in my face?” asked the girl presently,
+slightly moving from his gaze.
+
+“No,” he replied calmly. “My discovery was made some time ago; I am
+merely going over beautiful and pleasant ground.”
+
+“Really?” she returned, flushing, “then please look away; you annoy me.”
+
+“Why should I, since you know it is done in admiration? You are a woman;
+do not pretend distaste for it.”
+
+“I shall certainly go upstairs if you persist in talking so
+disagreeably.”
+
+“Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to be
+disagreeable. Always wear white; it becomes you. Never forget that
+beauty needs appropriate surroundings. Another thing, ma belle cousine,
+this little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocation
+spoils your whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain its
+healthy whiteness, while--”
+
+“You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis. Do you know, if you
+often spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?”
+
+“That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides making
+enemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest and
+loveliest.”
+
+“We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mocking
+tarantulas.”
+
+“That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our loving
+everybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Love
+only wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose. Cupid,
+you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had his
+portrait taken after he matured.”
+
+“A character such as you would have would be unbearable.”
+
+“But sensible and wise.”
+
+“Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctively
+before the brain can speak.”
+
+“Good--for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain always
+reconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worth
+while to signal either ‘love’ or ‘hate.’”
+
+He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecoming
+blush mounted slowly to Ruth’s face and her eyes were bright as she
+watched him. When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.
+
+“No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independence
+of all emotion. But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being a
+weakness, is often more clever than wisdom? At any rate, what you are
+doing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more strongly
+than many.”
+
+He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly,
+never, however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softly
+passionate minor strain.
+
+“What am I doing?” he asked.
+
+“Making love to the piano.”
+
+“It does not hurt the piano, does it?”
+
+“No; but never say you do not feel when you play like that.”
+
+“Is not that rather peremptory? Who taught you to read characters?”
+
+“You.”
+
+“I? What a poor teacher I was to allow you to show such bungling work!
+Will you sing?”
+
+“No, I shall read; I have had quite enough of myself and of you for one
+night.”
+
+“Alas, poor me!” he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany his
+words with his music; “I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotions
+are so troublesome. You have but made your entrance into the coldest,
+most exciting arena,--the world. Remember what I tell you,--all the
+strong motives, love and hate and jealousy, are mere flotsam and jetsam.
+You are the only loser by their possession.”
+
+The quiet closing of the door was his only answer. Ruth had left the
+room.
+
+She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt of
+cynicism. If she could escape a cynic either in books or in society,
+she invariably did so. Life was still beautiful for her; and one of her
+father’s untaught lessons was that the cynic is a one-sided creature,
+having lost the eye that sees the compensation balancing all things.
+As long as Louis attacked things, it did no harm, except to incite
+a friendly passage-at-arms; hence, most of such talk passed in the
+speaking. Not so the disparaging insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp.
+
+During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chief
+to her mother she had seen him almost daily. Time in a quiet sick-room
+passes monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-being
+and activity here assume proportions of importance; meal-times are
+looked forward to as a break in the day; the doctor’s visit especially
+when it is the only one allowed, is an excitement. Dr. Kemp’s visits
+were short, but the two learned to look for his coming and the sound
+of his deep, cheery voice, as to their morning’s tonic that would
+strengthen the whole day. Naturally, as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levice
+in her idleness had analyzed and discussed aloud his qualities, both
+personal and professional, to her satisfaction. She had small ground
+for basing her judgments, but the doctor formed a good part of her
+conversation.
+
+Ruth’s knowledge of him was somewhat larger,--about the distance between
+Mrs. Levice’s bedroom and the front door. She had a homely little way of
+seeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her any
+new instructions. Instructions are soon given and taken; and there was
+always time for a word or two of a different nature.
+
+In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificent
+pair of jetty blacks.
+
+“I wonder if they would despise a lump of sugar,” she said one morning.
+
+“Why should they?” asked Kemp.
+
+“Oh, they seem to hold their heads so haughtily.”
+
+“Still, they are human enough to know sweets when they see them,” their
+owner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in her
+quaint, flowered morning-gown. “Try them once, and you won’t doubt it.”
+
+She did try them; and as she turned a slightly flushed face to Kemp, who
+stood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, “Let me
+thank you and shake hands for my horses.”
+
+One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather. The doctor
+became neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercurially
+affected by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of a
+private signal-service reporter.
+
+“This is the time for a tramp,” she said, as they stood on the veranda,
+and the summer air, laden with the perfume of heliotrope, stole around
+them. “That is where the laboring man has the advantage over you, Dr.
+Kemp.”
+
+“Which, ten to one, he finds a disadvantage. I must confess that in such
+weather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should be
+inhaling this air at a leisurely trot or stride as his habit may be.
+You, Miss Levice, should get on your walking togs instantly.”
+
+“Yes, but not conveniently. My father and I never failed to take our
+morning constitutional together when all was well. Father always gave me
+the dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as long
+strides as a boy. Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry my
+pas was not ladylike.”
+
+“You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidently
+remembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one’s length of
+limb to the dainty footsteps of a woman.”
+
+“Father has no trouble on that score,” said Ruth, laughing.
+
+The doctor smiled in response, and raising his hat, said, “That is where
+he has the advantage over a tall man.”
+
+Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in his
+manner but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally at
+variance with the peculiarities of the “lady’s man” that Louis had
+insinuated he was accounted. She resolved to scrutinize him more
+narrowly the next morning.
+
+Mrs. Levice’s room was handsomely furnished and daintily appointed.
+Even from her pillows she would have detected any lapse in its exquisite
+neatness, and one of Ruth’s duties was to leave none to be detected.
+The house was large; and with three servants the young girl had to do a
+great deal of supervising. She took a natural pride in having things go
+as smoothly as under her mother’s administration; and Mr. Levice said it
+was well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was a
+vast improvement.
+
+Ruth had given the last touches to her mother’s dark hair, and was
+reading aloud the few unexciting items one finds in the morning’s paper.
+Mrs. Levice, propped almost to a sitting position by many downy pillows,
+polished her nails and half listened. Her cheeks were no longer brightly
+flushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and her
+slight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great weariness
+had taken its place. The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at the
+open window.
+
+Ruth’s reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying a
+dainty basket of Duchesse roses.
+
+“For Madame,” she said, handing it to Ruth, who came forward to take it.
+
+“Read the card yourself,” she said, placing it in her mother’s hand as
+the girl retired. A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice’s face; she
+buried her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope.
+
+“From Louis!” she exclaimed delightedly. “Poor fellow! he was dreadfully
+upset when he came in. He did not say much, but his look and hand-shake
+were enough as he bent to kiss me. Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louis
+has a very loving disposition?”
+
+“Yes, dear?”
+
+“Yes. One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him to
+be unusually sympathetic for a man. I would sooner have him for a friend
+than many a woman; he has not many equals among the young men I know.
+Don’t you agree with me, girlie?”
+
+“Oh, yes; I always liked Louis.”
+
+“How coldly you say that! And, by the way, it struck me as very queer
+last night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week. Since
+when has this formal hand-shake come into use?”
+
+A slight flush crimsoned Ruth’s cheek.
+
+“It is not my fault,” she said, smiling; “I always kissed Louis even
+after a day’s absence. But some few months ago he inaugurated the new
+regime, and holds me at arm’s length. I can’t ask him why, when he looks
+at me so matter-of-factly through his eyeglass, can I?”
+
+“No; certainly not.” A slight frown marred the complacency of Mrs.
+Levice’s brow. Such actions were not at all in accordance with her
+darling plan. Arnold was much to her; but she wished him to be more.
+This was a side-track upon which she had not wished her train to move.
+
+Her cogitations took a turn when she heard a quick, firm footfall in the
+hall.
+
+Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor.
+
+Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside. He
+had not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravity
+replaced his usual leisurely manner.
+
+“Good-morning, Mrs. Levice,” he said, taking her hand in his, and
+looking searchingly down at her. “How are you feeling this morning? Any
+starts or shakes of any sort?”
+
+“No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fed
+animal. Won’t you sit down, Doctor?”
+
+“No; I have a consultation in a very short time. Keep right on as you
+have been doing. I do not think it will be necessary for me to call for
+several days now; probably not before Friday.”
+
+“And to-day is Tuesday! Am I to see no one till then?”
+
+“No one but those you have seen. Pray do not complain, Mrs. Levice,”
+ he continued rather sternly. “You are a very fortunate invalid; illness
+with you is cushioned in every conceivable corner. I wish I could make
+you divide some of your blessings. As I cannot, I wish you to appreciate
+them as they deserve. Do not come down, Miss Levice,” as she moved to
+follow him; “I am in a great hurry. Good-morning.”
+
+“How harassed he looked! I wonder who is his patient!” observed Mrs.
+Levice, as Ruth quietly returned to her seat. A sunbeam fell aslant the
+girl’s preoccupied face. The doctor’s few words had given her food for
+thought.
+
+When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herself
+Louis’s allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything to
+mock at, had he been present, in Kemp’s abrupt visit of the morning.
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+Ruth always dressed well. Indeed, any little jealousy her lovely
+presence might occasion was usually summed up in the terse innuendo,
+“Fine feathers make fine birds.”
+
+To dress well is to dress appropriately to time, place, and season.
+Having a full purse, she could humor every occasion with a change
+of gown; being possessed of good taste, her toilets never offended;
+desiring to look pleasing, as every woman should, she studied what was
+becoming; having a mother to whom a good toilet was one of the most
+pressing convenances, and who delighted in planning beautiful gowns for
+her beautiful daughter, there was nothing lacking to prevent Ruth from
+being well-dressed.
+
+On this summer’s afternoon she was clad from head to foot in soft,
+pale gray. Every movement of her young body, as she walked toward town,
+betokened health and elastic strength. Her long, easy gait precluded any
+idea of hurry; she noticed everything she passed, from a handsome house
+to a dirty child.
+
+She was approaching that portion of Geary Street which the doctors
+have appropriated, and she carefully scanned each silvery sign-plate in
+search of Dr. Kemp’s name. It was the first time she had had occasion to
+go; and with a little feeling of novel curiosity she ran up the stairs
+leading to his office.
+
+It was just three,--the time stated as the limit of his office-hours;
+but when Ruth entered the handsome waiting-room, two or three patients
+were still awaiting their turns. Seated in one of the easy-chairs, near
+the window, was an aristocratic-looking woman, whom Ruth recognized as a
+friend of one of her Christian friends, and with whom she had a speaking
+acquaintance. Nodding pleasantly in response to the rather frigid bow,
+she walked to the centre of the room, and laying upon the table a bunch
+of roses that she carried, proceeded to select one of the magazines
+scattered about. As she sat down, she found herself opposite a
+stout Irishwoman, coarsely but cleanly dressed, who with undisguised
+admiration took in every detail of Ruth’s appearance. She overlooked the
+evident simplicity of the woman’s stare; but the wistful, yearning look
+of a little girl who reclined upon the lounge caused her to sit with her
+magazine unopened. As soon as she perceived that it was her flowers that
+the child regarded so longingly, she bent forward, and holding out a few
+roses, said invitingly,--
+
+“Would you like these?”
+
+There is generally something startling in the sudden sound of a voice
+after a long silence between strangers; but the pretty cadence of Ruth’s
+gentle voice bore no suggestion of abruptness.
+
+“Indeed, and she just do dote on ‘em,” answered the mother, in a loud
+tone, for the blushing child.
+
+“So do I,” responded Ruth; and leaning farther forward, she put them in
+the little hand.
+
+But the child’s hand did not close over them, and the large eyes turned
+piteously to her mother.
+
+“It’s paralyzed she is,” hurriedly explained the mother. “Shall Mamma
+hold the beautiful roses for ye, darlint?”
+
+“Please,” answered the childish treble.
+
+Ruth hesitated a second, and then rising and bending over her said,--
+
+“No; I know of a better way. Wouldn’t you like to have me fasten them in
+your belt? There, now you can smell them all the time.”
+
+“Roses is what she likes mostly,” proceeded the mother, garrulously,
+“and she’s for giving the doctor one every time she can when he comes.
+Faith! it’s about all he do get for his goodness, for what with--”
+
+The sudden opening of the folding-door interrupted her flow of talk.
+Seeing the doctor standing on the threshold as a signal for the next in
+waiting to come forward, the poor woman arose preparatory to helping her
+child into the consulting-room.
+
+“Let me help Mamie, Mrs. O’Brien,” said he, coming toward her. At the
+same moment the elegant-looking woman rose from her chair and swept
+toward him.
+
+“I believe it is my turn,” she said, in response to his questioning
+salutation.
+
+“Certainly, if you came before Mrs. O’Brien. If so, walk in,” he
+answered, moving the portiere aside for the other to enter.
+
+“Sure, Doctor,” broke in Mrs. O’Brien, anxiously, “we came in together.”
+
+“Indeed!” He looked from the florid, flustered face to the haughtily
+impassive woman beside her.
+
+“Well, then,” said he, courteously, “I know Mrs. O’Brien is wanted at
+home by her little ones. Mrs. Baker, you will not object, I am sure.”
+
+It was now the elegant woman’s turn to flush as Kemp took up the child.
+
+Ruth felt a leap of delight at the action. It was a quiet lesson to be
+laid to heart; and she knew she could never see him in a better light
+than when he left the room holding the little charity patient in his
+arms.
+
+She also noticed with a tinge of amusement the look of added hauteur on
+the face of Mrs. Baker, as she returned to her seat at the window.
+
+“Haughtiness,” mused Ruth, “is merely a cloak to selfishness, or the
+want of a proper spirit of humanity.”
+
+The magazine article remained unread; she drifted into a sort of
+day-dream, and scarcely noticed when Mrs. Baker left the room.
+
+“Well, Miss Levice.”
+
+She started up, slightly embarrassed, as the doctor’s voice thus aroused
+her.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” she said, coming forward and flushing slightly
+under his amused smile. “It was so quiet here that I forgot where I
+was.”
+
+He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her an
+exquisite fragrance of roses.
+
+“Will you be seated?” he asked, as he turned from closing the door.
+
+“No; it is not worth while.”
+
+“What is the trouble,--you or your mother?”
+
+There had been nothing disconcerting in the Irish-woman’s stare; but she
+felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable under the doctor’s broad gaze.
+
+“Neither of us,” she answered; “I broke the tonic bottle this morning,
+and as the number was destroyed, I should like to have you give me
+another prescription.”
+
+“Directly. Take this chair for a moment.”
+
+She seated herself perforce, and he took the chair beside the desk.
+
+“How is she since yesterday?” he asked, as he wrote, without looking up.
+
+“Quite as comfortable.”
+
+He handed her the prescription presently, and she arose at once. He
+stepped forward to open the outer door for her.
+
+“I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health,” he remarked, with a
+hand on the knob.
+
+“No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it. But for your
+method I am afraid there might have been.”
+
+“Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind. Your nursing was as
+potent a factor as my directions. It is not Congress, but the people,
+who make the country, you know.”
+
+“That is condescending, coming from Congress,” she laughed gayly; “but
+I must disclaim the compliment, I am sorry to say; my nursing was only a
+name.”
+
+“As you please. Miss Levice, may I beg a rose of you? No, not all. Well,
+thank you, they will look wonderful in a certain room I am thinking of.”
+
+“Yes?” There was a note of inquiry in the little word in reply to Kemp’s
+pointed remark spoken as with a sudden purpose.
+
+“Yes,” he continued, leaning his back against the door and looking
+earnestly down at the tall girl; “the room of a lad without even the
+presence of a mother to make it pretty;” he paused as if noting the
+effect of his words. “He is as lonely and uncomplaining as a tree would
+be in a desert; these roses will be quite a godsend to him.” He finished
+his sentence pleasantly at sight of the expression of sympathy in the
+lovely brown eyes.
+
+“Do you think he would care to see any one?”
+
+“Well,” replied the doctor, slowly, “I think he would not mind seeing
+you.”
+
+“Then will you tell me where he lives so that I can go there some day?”
+
+“Some day? Why not to-day? Would it be impossible to arrange it?”
+
+“Why, no,” she faltered, looking at him in surprise.
+
+“Excuse my curiosity, please; but the boy is in such pressing need of
+some pleasurable emotion that as soon as I looked at you and your roses
+I thought, ‘Now, that would not be a bad thing for Bob.’ You see, I was
+simply answering a question that has bothered me all day. Then will you
+drive there with me now?”
+
+“Would not that be impossible with your driver?” she asked, searching
+unaccountably for an excuse.
+
+“I can easily dispense with him.”
+
+“But won’t my presence be annoying?” she persisted, hesitating oddly.
+
+“Not to me,” he replied, turning quickly for his hat. “Come, then,
+please, I must waste no more time in Bob’s good cause.”
+
+She followed him silently with a sensation of quiet excitement.
+
+Presently she found herself comfortably seated beside the doctor, who
+drove off at a rapid pace.
+
+“I think,” said he, turning his horses westward, “I shall have to make a
+call out here on Jones Street before going to Bob. You will not mind the
+delay, Miss Levice, I hope.”
+
+“Oh, no. This is ‘my afternoon off,’ you know. Father is at home, and my
+mother will not miss me in the least. I was just thinking--”
+
+She came to a sudden pause. She had just remembered that she was
+about to become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent,
+interested look in Kemp’s eye as he glanced at her was the disturbing
+element.
+
+“You were thinking what?” he prompted with his eye now to the horses’
+heads.
+
+“I am afraid you would not be edified if I continued,” she answered
+hastily, biting her lip. She had been about to remark that her father
+would miss her, nevertheless--but such personal platitudes are not
+always in good taste. Seeing that she was disinclined to finish her
+sentence, he did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up his
+horses before a rather imposing house.
+
+“I shall not be gone a minute, I think,” he said, as he sprang out and
+was about to attach the reins to the post.
+
+“Let me hold them, please,” said Ruth, eagerly stretching forth a hand.
+
+He placed them in her hand with a smile, and turned in at the gateway.
+
+He had been in the house about five minutes when she saw him come out
+hastily. His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gathered
+in an unmistakable frown. At the moment when he slammed the gate
+behind him, a stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted him
+breathlessly.
+
+He waited stolidly with his foot on the carriage-step till she came up.
+
+“So sorry I had to go out!” she burst forth. “How did you find my
+husband? What do you think of him?”
+
+“Madame,” he replied shortly, “since you ask, I think your husband is
+little short of an idiot!”
+
+Ruth felt herself flush as she heard.
+
+The woman looked at him in consternation.
+
+“What is the matter?” she asked.
+
+“Matter? Mayonnaise is the matter. If a man with a weak stomach like
+his cannot resist gorging himself with things he has been strictly
+prohibited from touching, he had better proclaim himself irresponsible
+and be done. It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting up
+such antics. Good-afternoon.”
+
+And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins
+from her without a word.
+
+She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician.
+He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact
+to break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, the
+explosion is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
+
+They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach.
+The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is
+here charged with odors redolent of anything but the “shores of Araby
+the blest.”
+
+Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
+
+“Some men,” he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, “have no
+more conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages.
+Here is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his
+soul; otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can’t account for it.”
+
+“The force of habit, perhaps,” suggested Ruth.
+
+“Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land.”
+
+That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on
+the weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark,
+although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself.
+Some Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the
+race as a personal calumny.
+
+“We always make the reservation that the fat be clean,” she laughed.
+
+Kemp flashed around at her.
+
+“Miss Levice,” he exclaimed contritely, “I completely forgot--I hope I
+was not rude.”
+
+“Why, certainly not,” she answered half merrily, half earnestly. “Why
+should you be?”
+
+“As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have
+their faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their
+characteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the girl, quietly. “I am very proud of many Jewish
+traits.”
+
+“Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and
+countless other things.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the
+musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with
+these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches
+of art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?”
+
+He waited deferentially for a reply.
+
+“I was trying to think of a proper answer,” she responded with earnest
+simplicity; “and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers
+are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times
+and circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and
+sculpture require other things.”
+
+“Which the Jew cannot obtain?”
+
+A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
+
+“Dr. Kemp,” she answered, “we have begun. I should like to quote to you
+the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired
+to answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil
+that which in his mouth seemed eloquent.”
+
+“You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please.”
+
+They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention
+from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her
+expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
+
+“It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim
+was about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friend
+good-by, he said: ‘In that far land to which I am journeying, is there
+not some relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can
+bring to you?’ The friend mused awhile. ‘Yes,’ he made answer finally;
+‘there is a small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg of
+you to bring me a single rose from the plains of Sharon.’ The pilgrim
+promised, and departed. On his return he presented himself before his
+friend. ‘You have brought it?’ he cried. ‘Friend,’ answered the pilgrim,
+sadly, ‘I have brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary
+travelling it is now but a poor, withered thing.’ ‘Give it me!’
+exclaimed the friend, eagerly. The other did so. True, it was lifeless
+and withered; not a vestige remained of its once fragrant glory. But as
+the man held it tenderly in his hand, memory and love untold overcame
+him, and he wept in ecstasy. And as his tears fell on the faded rose,
+lo! The petals sprang up, flushed into life; an exquisite perfume
+enveloped it,--it had revived in all its beauty. Sir, in the words of
+the rabbi, ‘In the light of toleration and love, we too have revived, we
+too are looking up.’”
+
+As the girl paused, Kemp slightly, almost reverentially, raised his hat.
+
+“Miss Levice, that is exquisite,” he said softly.
+
+They had reached the old, poorer section of the city, and the doctor
+stopped before a weather-beaten cottage.
+
+“This is where Bob receives,” he said, holding out a hand to Ruth; “in
+all truth it cannot be called a home.”
+
+Ruth had a peculiar, inexplicable feeling of mutual understanding with
+the doctor as she went in with him. She hardly realized that she had
+been an impressionable witness of some of his dominant moods, and that
+she herself had been led on to an unrestrained display of feeling.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+They walked directly into a bare, dark hallway. There was no one
+stirring, and Kemp softly opened the door of one of several rooms
+leading into the passage. Here a broad band of yellow sunlight fell
+unrestrained athwart the waxen-like face of the sleeping boy. The rest
+of the simple, poor-looking room was in shadow. The doctor noiselessly
+closed the door behind them, and stepped to the bed, which was covered
+with a heavy horse-blanket.
+
+The boy on the bed even in sleep could not be accounted good-looking;
+there was a heaviness of feature, a plentitude of freckles, a shock
+of lack-lustre hair, that made poor Bob Bard anything but a thing of
+beauty. And yet, as Ruth looked at him, and saw Kemp’s strong white
+hand placed gently on the low forehead, a great wave of tender pity took
+possession of her. Sleep puts the strongest at the mercy of the
+watcher; there is a loneliness about it, a silent, expressive plea for
+protection, that appeals unconsciously. Ruth would have liked to raise
+the rough, lonely head to her bosom.
+
+“It would be too bad to wake him now,” said the doctor, in a low voice,
+coming back to her side; “he is sleeping restfully; and that is what
+he needs. I am sorry our little plan is frustrated; but it would be
+senseless to wait, as there is no telling when he will waken.”
+
+A shade of disappointment passed over the girl’s face, which he noticed.
+
+“But,” he continued, “you might leave your roses where he cannot fail to
+see them. His conjectures on their mysterious appearance will rouse him
+sufficiently for one day.”
+
+He watched her move lightly across the room, and fill a cup with
+water from an earthenware pitcher. She looked about for a second as if
+hesitating where to place it, and then quickly drew up a high-backed
+wooden chair close to the bedside, and placed thereon a cup with roses,
+so that they looked straight into the face of the slumbering lad.
+
+“We will go now,” Kemp said, and opened the door for Ruth to pass
+before him. She followed him slowly, but on the threshold drew back, a
+thoughtful little pucker on her brow.
+
+“I think I shall wait anyway,” she explained. “I should like to talk
+with Bob a little.”
+
+The doctor looked slightly annoyed.
+
+“You had better drive home with me,” he objected.
+
+“Thank you,” she replied, drawing farther back into the room; “but the
+Jackson Street cars are very convenient.”
+
+“Nevertheless, I should prefer to have you come with me,” he insisted.
+
+“But I do not wish to,” she repeated quietly; “besides, I have decided
+to stay.”
+
+“That settles it, then,” smiled Kemp; and shaking her hand, he went out
+alone.
+
+“When my lady will, she will; and when she won’t, she won’t,” he mused,
+gathering up his reins. But the terminal point to the thought was a
+smile.
+
+Ruth, thus left alone, seated herself on the one other chair near the
+foot of the bed. Strange to say, though she gazed at Bob, her thoughts
+had flown out of the room. She was dimly conscious that she was
+pleasantly excited. Had she cared to look the cause boldly in the face,
+she would have known that Miss Ruth Levice’s vanity had been highly fed
+by Dr. Kemp’s unmistakable desire for her assistance. He must at least
+have looked at her with friendly eyes; but here her modesty drew a line
+even for herself, and giving herself a mental shake, she saw that two
+lambent brown eyes were looking wonderingly at her from the face of the
+sick lad.
+
+“How do you feel now, Bob?” she asked, rising immediately and smiling
+down at him.
+
+The boy forgot to answer.
+
+“The doctor brought me here,” she went on brightly; “but as you were
+asleep, he could not wait. Are you feeling better, Bob?”
+
+The soft, star-like eyes did not wander in their gaze.
+
+“Why did you come?” he breathed finally. His voice was surprisingly
+musical.
+
+“Why?” faltered Ruth. “Oh, to bring you these roses. Do you care for
+flowers, Bob?” She lifted the mass of delicate buds toward him. Two
+pale, transparent hands went out to meet them. Tenderly as you sometimes
+see a mother press the cheek of her babe to her own, he drew them to his
+cheek.
+
+“Oh, my darlings, my darlings!” he murmured passionately, with his lips
+pressed to the fragrant petals.
+
+“Do you love them, then, so much?”
+
+“Lady,” replied the boy, raising himself to a sitting posture, “there is
+nothing in the world to me like flowers.”
+
+“I never thought boys cared so for flowers,” remarked Ruth, in surprise.
+
+“I am a gardener,” said he, simply, and again fell to caressing the
+roses. Sitting up, he looked fully seventeen or eighteen years old.
+
+“You must have missed them during your illness,” observed Ruth.
+
+A long sigh answered her. The boy rested his dreamy eyes upon her. He
+was no longer ugly, with his thoughts illumining his face.
+
+“Marechal Niel,” she heard him whisper, still with his eyes upon her,
+“all in soft, radiant robes like a gracious queen. Lady, you fit well
+next my Homer rose.”
+
+“What Homer rose?” asked Ruth, humoring the flower-poet’s odd conceit.
+
+“My strong, brave Homer. There is none like him for strength, with all
+his gentle perfume folded close to his heart. I used to think these
+Duchesses would suit him best; but now, having seen you, I know they
+were too frail,--Marechal Niel.” It was impossible to resent openly the
+boy’s musings; but with a quick insistence that stemmed the current of
+his thoughts, she said,--
+
+“Tell me where you suffer, Bob.”
+
+“I do not suffer. I am only weak; but he is nourishing me, and Mrs.
+Mills brings me what he orders.”
+
+“And is there anything you would like to have of which you forgot to
+tell him?”
+
+“I never tell him anything I wish,” replied the boy, proudly. “He knows
+beforehand. Did you never draw up close to a delicate flower, lay your
+cheek softly upon it, so,--close your eyes, so,--and listen to the tale
+it’s telling? Well, that is what my good friend does always.”
+
+It was like listening to music to hear the slow, drawling words of the
+invalid. Ruth’s hand closed softly over his.
+
+“I have some pretty stories at home about flowers,” she said; “would you
+like to read them?”
+
+“I can’t read very well,” answered Bob, in unabashed simplicity.
+
+Yet his spoken words were flawless.
+
+“Then I shall read them to you,” she answered pleasantly, “to-morrow,
+Bob, say at about three.”
+
+“You will come again?” The heavy mouth quivered in eager surprise.
+
+“Why, yes; now that I know you, I must know you better. May I come?”
+
+“Oh, lady!”
+
+Ruth went out enveloped in that look of gratitude. It was the first
+directly personal expression of honest gratitude she had ever received;
+and as she walked down the hill, she longed to do something that would
+be really helpful to some one. She had led, on the whole, so far, an
+egotistic life. Being their only child, her parents expected much of
+her. During her school-life she had been a sort of human reservoir for
+all her father’s ideas, whims, and hobbies. True, he had made her take
+a wide interest in everything within the line of vision; hanging on
+his arm, as they wandered off daily in their peripatetic school, he had
+imbued her with all his manly nobility of soul. But theorizing does not
+give much hold on a subject, the mind being taken up with its own clever
+elucidations. For the past six months, after a year’s travel in Europe,
+her mother had led her on in a whirl of what she called happiness. Ruth
+had soon gauged the worth of this surface-life, and now that a lull had
+come, she realized that what she needed was some interest outside of
+herself,--an interest which the duties of a mere society girl do not
+allow to develop to a real good.
+
+A plan slowly formed itself in her mind, in which she became so
+engrossed that she unconsciously crossed the cable of the Jackson Street
+cars. She did not turn till a hand was suddenly laid upon her arm.
+
+“What are you doing in this part of town?” broke in Louis Arnold’s voice
+in evident anger.
+
+“Oh, Louis, how you startled me! What is the matter with this part of
+town?”
+
+“You are on a very disreputable street. Where are you going?”
+
+“Home.”
+
+“Then be so kind as to turn back with me and take the cars.”
+
+She glanced at him quickly, unused to his tone of command, and turned
+with him.
+
+“How do you happen to be here?” he asked shortly.
+
+“Dr. Kemp took me to see a poor patient of his.”
+
+“Dr. Kemp?” surprise raised his eyebrows half an inch.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Indeed! Then,” he continued in cool, biting words, “why didn’t he carry
+his charity a little farther and take you home again?”
+
+“Because I did not choose to go with him,” she returned, rearing her
+head and looking calmly at him as they walked along.
+
+“Bah! What had your wishing or not wishing to do with it? The man
+knew where he had taken you even if you did not know. This quarter is
+occupied by nothing but negroes and foreign loafers. It was decidedly
+ungentlemanly to leave you to return alone at this time of the evening.”
+
+“Probably he gave me credit for being able to take care of myself in
+broad daylight.”
+
+“Probably he never gave it a second’s thought one way or the other.
+Hereafter you had better consult your natural protectors before starting
+out on Quixotic excursions with indifferent strangers.”
+
+“Louis!”
+
+She actually stamped her little foot while walking.
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Stop that, please. You are not my keeper.”
+
+Her cousin smiled quizzically. They took their seats on the dummy, just
+as the sun, a golden ball, was about to glide behind Lone Mountain. Late
+afternoon is a quiet time, and Ruth and Louis did not speak for a while.
+
+The girl was experiencing a whirl of conflicting emotions,--anger at
+Louis’s interference, pleasure at his protecting care, annoyance at
+what he considered gross negligence on the doctor’s part, and a sneaking
+pride, in defiance of his insinuations, over the thought that Kemp had
+trusted to her womanliness as a safeguard against any chance annoyance.
+She also felt ashamed at having showed temper.
+
+“Louis,” she ventured finally, rubbing her shoulder against his, as
+gentle animals conciliate their mates, “I am sorry I spoke so harshly;
+but it exasperates me to hear you cast slurs, as you have done before,
+upon Dr. Kemp in his absence.”
+
+“Why should it, my dear, since it give you a chance to uphold him?”
+
+There is a way of saying “my dear” that is as mortifying as a slap in
+the face.
+
+The dark blood surged over the girl’s cheeks. She drew a long, hard
+breath, and then said in a low voice,--
+
+“I think we will not quarrel, Louis. Will you get off at the next corner
+with me? I have a prescription to be made up at the drug-store.”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+If Arnold had showed anger, he was man enough not to be ashamed of it;
+this is one of man’s many lordly rights.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+Mrs. Jules Levice was slowly gaining the high-road to recovery, and many
+of the restrictions for her cure had been removed. As a consequence,
+and with an eye ever to Ruth’s social duties, she urged her to leave her
+more and more to herself.
+
+As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and his
+neighborhood before her father’s consideration. A Jewish girl’s life is
+an open page to her family. Matters of small as well as of larger moment
+are freely discussed. The result is that while it robs her of much of
+her Christian sister’s spontaneity, which often is the latter’s greatest
+charm, it also, through the sagacity of more experienced heads,
+guards her against many indiscretions. This may be a relic of European
+training, but it enables parents to instil into the minds of their
+daughters principles which compare favorable with the American girl’s
+native self-reliance. It was as natural for Ruth to consult her father
+in this trivial matter, in view of Louis’s disapproval, as it would be
+for her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to sally anywhere so long as she herself
+felt justified in so doing.
+
+Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering the
+matter, could find no objection, she went. After that it was enough to
+tell her mother that she was going to see Bob. Mrs. Levice had heard the
+doctor speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her way
+she was only too happy to forward.
+
+Bob’s plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty under
+Ruth’s deft fingers. A pot of mignonette in the window, a small painting
+of exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses,
+were the food she brought for his poet soul. But there were other
+substantial things.
+
+The day after she had replaced the coarse horse-blanket with a soft down
+quilt, the doctor made one of his bi-weekly visits to her mother.
+
+As he stood taking leave of Ruth on the veranda, he turned, with his
+foot on the last step, and looked up at her as if arrested by a sudden
+thought.
+
+“Miss Levice,” said he, “I should like to give you a friendly scolding.
+May I?”
+
+“How can I prevent you?”
+
+“Well, if I were you I should not indulge Bob’s love of luxury as you
+do. He positively refused to get up yesterday on account of the ‘soft
+feel,’ as he termed it, of that quilt. Now, you know, he must get up; he
+is able to, and in a week I wish to start him in to work again. Then he
+won’t be able to afford such ‘soft feels,’ and he will rebel. He has had
+enough coddling for his own good. I really think it is mistaken kindness
+on your part, Miss Levice.”
+
+The girl was leaning lightly against one of the supporting columns. A
+playful smile parted her lips as she listened.
+
+“Dr. Kemp,” she replied, “may I give you a little friendly scolding?”
+
+“You have every right.” His tone was somewhat earnest, despite his
+smiling eyes. A man of thirty-five does not resent a friendly scolding
+from a winsome young girl.
+
+“Well, don’t you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob of
+any pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wish
+it too, and will not be able to have it?”
+
+“As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wish
+you to see it as practically as I do. Put sentiment aside, and the
+only sensible thing to be done now is to prepare him for the hard,
+uncushioned facts of an active life.”
+
+“But why must it be so hard for him?”
+
+“Why? In the face of the inevitable, that is a time-wasting, useless
+question. Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, the
+discovery will not alter the fact.”
+
+“Yes, it will.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek a
+softer.”
+
+“You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination,--circumstance.”
+
+“And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove the
+strait-jacket?”
+
+Her lovely face looked very winning, filled with its kindly meaning.
+
+“Thank you,” said he, raising his hat and forgetting to replace it as he
+spoke; “that is a gentle truth; some day we shall discuss this further.
+For the present, use your power in getting Bob upon his feet.”
+
+“Yes.” She gave a hurried glance at the door behind her, and ran quickly
+down to the lowest step. “Dr. Kemp,” said she, a little breathlessly,
+“I have wished for some time to ask you to let me know when you have
+any cases that require assistance outside of a physician’s,--such as
+my father or I might lend. You must have a broad field for such
+opportunities. Will you think of me then, please?”
+
+“I will,” he replied, looking with amused pleasure at her flushed face.
+“Going in for philanthropy, Miss Levice?”
+
+“No; going out for it, thank you;” and she put her hand into his
+outstretched one. She watched him step into his carriage; he turned and
+raised his hat again,--a trifling circumstance that Ruth dwelt upon with
+pleasure; a second glance always presupposes an interested first.
+
+He did not fail to keep his promise; and once on the lookout for “cases”
+ herself, Ruth soon found enough irons in the fire to occupy her spare
+moments.
+
+Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society.
+
+“A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people will
+either consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely. Don’t be
+unreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy every
+function in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you. When
+he asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Friday
+night, I heard you say you did not know. Now why?”
+
+“Oh, that? I never gave it a second’s thought. I promised Father to go
+with him in the afternoon; I did not consider it worth an explanation.”
+
+“But, you see, I did. It looks very queer for Louis to be travelling
+around by himself; couldn’t you go again in the evening with him?”
+
+“Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt. If the pictures are good, a second
+visit will not be thrown away,--that is, if Louis is really anxious for
+my companionship. But, ‘I doubt it, I doubt it, I do.’”
+
+“What nonsense!” returned her mother, somewhat testily. “Why shouldn’t
+he be? You are always amiable together, are you not?”
+
+“Well,” she said, knitting her brows and pursing her lips drolly, “that,
+methinks, depends on the limits and requirements of amiability. If
+disputation showeth a friendly spirit, then is my lord overfriendly;
+for it oft hath seemed of late to pleasure his mood to wax disputations,
+though, in sooth, lady fair, I have always maintained a wary and
+decorous demeanor.”
+
+“I can imagine,” laughed her mother, a little anxiously; “then you will
+go?”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice’s
+exertions bore some fruit.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with more
+enthusiastic theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco. The
+play was one of the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughly
+enjoyed. When a great star was heralded, he was in a feverish delight
+until it had come and gone. When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet little
+man fully earned the often indiscriminately applied title of “crazy
+Frenchman.” A Frenchman is never so much one as when confronted in
+a foreign land with a great French creation; every fibre in his
+body answers each charm with an appreciation worked to fever-heat by
+patriotic love; at such times the play of his emotions precludes any
+idea of reason to an onlooker. Bernhardt was one of Levice’s passions.
+Booth was another, though he took him more composedly. The first time
+the latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was “Hamlet”) the
+Levices--that is, Ruth and her father--went three times in succession to
+witness his matchless performance, and every succeeding characterization
+but strengthened their enthusiasm.
+
+Booth was coming again. The announcement had been rapturously hailed by
+the Levices.
+
+“It will be impossible for us to go together, Father,” Ruth remarked at
+the breakfast-table. “Louis will have to take me on alternate nights,
+while you stay at home with Mamma; did you hear, Louis?”
+
+“You will hardly need to do that,” answered Arnold, lowering his cup;
+“if you and your father prefer going together, I shall enjoy staying
+with your mother on those nights.”
+
+“Thanks for the offer--and your evident delight in my company,” laughed
+Ruth; “but there is one play at which you must submit to the infliction
+of my presence. Don’t you remember we always wished to see the ‘Merchant
+of Venice’ and judge for ourselves his interpretation of the character?
+Well, I am determined that we shall see it together.”
+
+“When does he play it?”
+
+“A week from Saturday night.”
+
+“Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be out of town at the end of next
+week.”
+
+“Oh, dear? Honestly? Can’t you put it off? I want so much to go.”
+
+“Impossible. Go with your father.”
+
+“You know very well neither of us would go off and leave Mamma alone at
+night. It is horrid of you to go. I am sure you could manage differently
+if--”
+
+“Why, my child!”
+
+She was actually pouting; and her father’s quiet tone of surprised
+reprimand just headed off two great tears that threatened to fall.
+
+“I know,” she said, trying to smile, and showing an April face instead;
+“but I had just set my heart on going, and with Louis too.”
+
+“That comes of being a spoilt only child,” put in Arnold, suavely.
+“You ought to know by this time that of the many plans we make with
+ourselves, nine out of ten come to nought. Before you set your heart on
+a thing, be sure you will not have to give it up.”
+
+Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophic
+remark with a curled lip.
+
+“There, save your tears for something more worthy,” cut in Levice,
+briskly; “if you care so much about it, we or chance must arrange it as
+you wish.”
+
+But chance in this instance was not propitious. Wednesday came, and
+Arnold saw no way of accommodating her. He left town after taking her to
+see the “Fool’s Revenge” as a sort of substitution.
+
+“You seemed to be enjoying the poor Fool’s troubles last night,”
+ observed Dr. Kemp, in the morning; they were still standing in Mrs.
+Levice’s room.
+
+“I? Not enjoying his troubles; I enjoyed Booth, though,--if you can call
+it enjoyment when your heart is ready to break for him. Were you there?
+I did not see you.”
+
+“No, I don’t suppose you did, or you would have been in the pitiable
+condition of the princess who had her head turned. I sat directly back
+of your box, in the dress-circle. Then you like Booth?”
+
+“Take care! That is a dangerous subject with my family,” broke in Mrs.
+Levice. “Ruth has actually exhausted every adjective in her admiration
+vocabulary. The last extravaganza I heard from her on that theme was
+after she had seen him as Brutus; she wished herself Lucius, that in the
+tent scene she might kiss Booth’s hand.”
+
+“It sounds gushing enough for a school-girl now,” laughed Ruth merrily,
+looking up at the doctor; “but at the time I meant it.”
+
+“Have you seen him in all his impersonations?” he asked.
+
+“In everything but ‘Shylock.’”
+
+“You will have a chance for that on Saturday night. It will be a great
+farewell performance.”
+
+“Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him.”
+
+“Now, Doctor,” cried Mrs. Levice, “will you please impress it on her
+that I am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear? She wishes
+to go Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the ground
+that I shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town. Is not that
+being unnecessarily solicitous?”
+
+“Without doubt. But,” he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, “in lieu
+of a better escort, how would I do, Miss Levice?”
+
+“I do not understand.”
+
+“Will you come with me Saturday night to see ‘Shylock’?”
+
+To be candid, Ruth was embarrassed. The doctor had said neither “will
+you honor me” nor “will you please me,” but he had both pleased and
+honored her. She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother. “Come
+now, Mrs. Levice,” laughed Kemp, noting the action, “will you allow your
+little girl to go with me? Do not detain me with a refusal; it will be
+impossible to accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, you
+know. Good-morning.”
+
+Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both
+of mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at his
+unexpected invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another
+and quite different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself.
+Mrs. Levice was in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the
+evening.
+
+“By all means, let her go,” replied he; “why should you have had any
+misgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going.”
+
+“But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their
+girls to go out with strangers.”
+
+“Is that part of our religion?”
+
+“No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at every
+little innovation against convention.”
+
+“What will they say? Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
+Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the
+child. If she wishes to go, don’t set an impossible bogy in the way of
+her enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would
+if you said to the doctor, ‘I can’t let her go on account of people’s
+tongues,’ and that is the only honest excuse you can offer.” So in his
+manly, practical way he decided it.
+
+On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale
+suede glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in her
+dull sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft
+dark hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed
+by the broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told
+that she was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kemp
+came in, his open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He came
+forward hastily.
+
+“I am a little late,” he said, taking her hand, “but it was unavoidable.
+Ten minutes to eight,” looking at his watch; “the horses must make good
+time.”
+
+“It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?” asked Ruth, for want of
+something better to say as she turned for her wrap.
+
+“I did not feel it,” he replied, intercepting her. “But this furry thing
+will keep the cold off, if there is any,” he continued, as he held it
+for her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her
+throat. A strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so
+close her own.
+
+“How are your mother and father?” He asked, holding the door open, while
+she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.
+
+“They are as usual,” she answered. “Father expects to see you after the
+play. You will come in for a little supper, will you not?”
+
+“That sounds alluring,” he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking,
+as she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that
+seemed to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.
+
+It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+Everybody remembers the sad old comedy, as differently interpreted in
+its graver sentiment as there are different interpreters. Ruth had
+seen one who made of Shylock merely a fawning, mercenary, loveless,
+blood-thirsty wretch. She had seen another who presented a man of quick
+wit, ready tongue, great dignity, greater vengeance, silent of love,
+wordy of hate. Booth, without throwing any romantic glamour on the Jew,
+showed him as God and man, but mostly man, had made him: an old Jew,
+grown bitter in the world’s disfavor through fault of race; grown old in
+strife for the only worldly power vouchsafed him,--gold; grown old with
+but one human love to lighten his hard existence; a man who, at length,
+shorn of his two loves through the same medium that robbed him of his
+manly birthright, now turned fiend, endeavors with tooth and nail
+to wreak the smouldering vengeance of a lifetime upon the chance
+representative of an inexorable persecution.
+
+All through the performance Ruth sat a silent, attentive listener. Kemp,
+with his ready laugh at Gratiano’s sallies, would turn a quick look at
+her for sympathy; he was rather surprised at the grave, unsmiling
+face beside him. When, however, the old Jew staggered alone and almost
+blindly from the triumphantly smiling court-room, a little pinch on his
+arm decidedly startled him.
+
+He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruth
+started.
+
+“Oh,” she faltered, “I--I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were not
+Louis.”
+
+“I do not mind in the least,” he assured her easily.
+
+The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great things
+of life move slowly.
+
+As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, the
+latter thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whom
+turned an interested look at her stalwart escort. Of this she was
+perfectly aware, but the same human interest with which Kemp’s
+acquaintances regarded her passed by her unnoticed.
+
+A moment later they were in the fresh, open air.
+
+“How beautiful it is!” said Ruth, looking up at the stars. “The wind has
+entirely died away.”
+
+“‘On such a night,’” quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, “a closed
+carriage seems out of season.”
+
+“And reason,” supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door rather
+slowly. She glanced at him hesitatingly.
+
+“Would you--” she began.
+
+“Right! I would!” The door was banged to.
+
+“John,” he said, looking up at his man in the box, “take this trap round
+to the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night.”
+
+John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion’s little hand through
+his arm.
+
+“Well,” he said, as they turned the corner, “Were you satisfied with the
+great man to-night?”
+
+“Yes,” she replied meditatively, “fully; there was no exaggeration,--it
+was all quite natural.”
+
+“Except Jessica in boy’s clothes.”
+
+“Don’t mention her, please; I detest her.”
+
+“And yet she spoke quite prettily on the night.”
+
+“I did not hear her.”
+
+“Why, where were you while all the world was making merry on the stage?”
+
+“Not with them; I was with the weary, heart-broken old man who passed
+out when joy began.”
+
+“Ah! I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano’s jesting. Miss
+Levice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take too
+strong a hold on you. It is not right. I assure you for every tear there
+is a laugh, and you must learn to forget the former in the latter.”
+
+“I am sorry,” replied Ruth, quite sadly; “but I fear I cannot learn
+that,--tears are always stronger than laughter. How could I listen to
+the others’ nonsense when my heart was sobbing with that lonely old man?
+Forgive me, but I cannot forget him.”
+
+They walked along silently for some time. Instinctively, each felt the
+perfect accord with which they kept step. Ruth’s little ear was just
+about on a level with the doctor’s chin. He hardly felt the soft touch
+of her hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile of
+her cheek against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she was
+there was a pleasing one.
+
+“Did you consider the length of our walk when you fell in with my
+desire?” he asked presently.
+
+“I like a long walk in pleasant weather; I never tire of walking.”
+
+“You have found the essentials of a good pedestrian,--health and
+strength.”
+
+“Yes; if everybody were like me, all your skill would be thrown away,--I
+am never ill.”
+
+“Apparently there is no reason why you should be, with common-sense to
+back your blessings. If common-sense could be bought at the drug-store,
+I should be rid of a great many patients.”
+
+“That reminds me of a snatch of conversation I once overheard between
+my mother and a doctor’s wife. I am reminded of it because the spirit
+of your meaning is diametrically opposed to her own. After some talk my
+mother asked, ‘And how is the doctor?’ ‘Oh,’ replied the visitor, with
+a long sigh, ‘he’s well enough in body, but he’s blue, terribly blue;
+everybody is so well, you know.’”
+
+“Her sentiment was more human than humane,” laughed Kemp. He was glad to
+see that she had roused herself from her sad musings; but a certain set
+purpose he had formed robbed him now of his former lightness of manner.
+
+He was about to broach a subject that required delicate handling; but an
+intuitive knowledge of the womanly character of the young girl aided
+him much. It was not so much what he had seen her do as what he knew she
+was, that led him to begin his recital.
+
+“We have a good many blocks before us yet,” he said, “and I am going to
+tell you a little story. Why don’t you take the full benefit of my arm?
+There,” he proceeded, drawing her hand farther through his arm, “now
+you feel more like a big girl than like a bit of thistledown. If I get
+tiresome, just call ‘time,’ will you?”
+
+“All right,” she laughed. She was beginning to meet halfway this
+matter-of-fact, unadorned, friendly manner of his; and when she did meet
+it, she felt a comfortable security in it. From the beginning to the end
+of his short narrative he looked straight ahead.
+
+“How shall I begin? Do you like fairy tales? Well, this is the soul of
+one without the fictional wings. Once upon a time,--I think that is the
+very best introduction extant,--a woman was left a widow with one little
+girl. She lived in New Orleans, where the blow of her husband’s death
+and the loss of her good fortune came almost simultaneously. She must
+have had little moral courage, for as soon as she could, she left her
+home, not being able to bear the inevitable falling off of friends
+that follows loss of fortune. She wandered over the intermediate States
+between here and Louisiana, stopping nowhere long, but endeavoring to
+keep together the bodies and souls of herself and child by teaching.
+They kept this up for years until the mother succumbed. They were on
+the way from Nevada to Los Angeles when she died. The daughter, then
+not eighteen, went on to Los Angeles, where she buried her mother, and
+endeavored to continue teaching as she had been doing. She was young,
+unsophisticated, sad, and in want in a strange town. She applied for
+advice to a man highly honored and recommended by his fellow-citizens.
+The man played the brute. The girl fled--anywhere. Had she been less
+brave, she would have fled from herself. She came to San Francisco and
+took a position as nurse-girl; children, she thought, could not play her
+false, and she might outlive it. The hope was cruel. She was living near
+my home, had seen my sign probably, and in the extremity of her distress
+came to me. There is a good woman who keeps a lodging-house, and who
+delights in doing me favors. I left the poor child in her hands, and she
+is now fully recovered. As a physician I can do no more for her, and yet
+melancholy has almost made a wreck of her. Nothing I say has any effect;
+all she answers is, ‘It isn’t worth while.’ I understand her perfectly,
+but I wished to infuse into her some of her old spirit of independence.
+This morning I asked her if she intended to let herself drift on in
+this way. I may have spoken a little more harshly than necessary, for
+my words broke down completely the wall of dogged silence she had built
+around herself. ‘Oh, sir,’ she cried, weeping like the child she is,
+‘what can I do? Can I dare to take little children by the hand, stained
+as I am? Can I go as an impostor where, if people knew, they would
+snatch their loved ones from me? Oh, it would be too wretched!’ I tried
+to remonstrate with her, told her that the lily in the dust is no less
+a lily than is her spotless sister held high above contamination. She
+looked at me miserably from her tear-stained face, and then said, ‘Men
+may think so, but women don’t; a stain with them is ignoble whether made
+by one’s self or another. No woman knowing my story would think me
+free from dishonor, and hold out her clean hands to me.’ ‘Plenty,’ I
+contradicted. ‘Maybe,’ she said humbly; ‘but what would it mean? The
+hand would be held out at arm’s length by women safe in their position,
+who would not fail to show me how debased they think me. I am young yet;
+can you show me a girl, like myself in years, but white as snow, kept
+safe from contamination, as you say, who, knowing my story, would hold
+out her hand to me and not feel herself besmirched by the contact? Do
+not say you can, for I know you cannot.’ She was crying so violently
+that she would not listen to me. When I left her, I myself could think
+of none of my young friends to whom I could propound the question. I
+know many sweet, kind girls, but I could count not one among them all
+who in such a case would be brave as she was womanly--until I thought of
+you.”
+
+Complete silence followed his words. He did not turn his glance from the
+street ahead of him. He had made no appeal, would make none, in fact. He
+had told the story with scarcely a reflection on its impropriety, that
+would have arrested another man from introducing such an element into
+his gentle fellowship with a girl like Ruth. His lack of hesitancy
+was born of his manly view of the outcast’s blamelessness, of her dire
+necessity for help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be as
+free from the artificiality of conventional surface modesty as was he,
+through the earnestness of the undertaking.
+
+There is something very sweet to a woman in being singled out by a man
+for some ennobling virtue. Ruth felt this so strongly that she could
+almost hear her heart beat with the intoxicating knowledge. No question
+had been asked, but she felt an answer was expected. Yet had her life
+depended on it, the words could not have come at that moment. Was she
+indeed what he esteemed her? Unconsciously Dr. Kemp had, in thought,
+placed her on a pedestal. Did she deserve the high place he had given
+her, or would she?
+
+With many women the question would have been, did she care for Dr.
+Kemp’s good opinion? Now, though Ruth was indeed put on her mettle, her
+quick sympathy had been instantly touched by the girl’s miserable story.
+Perhaps the doctor’s own feelings had influenced her, but had the girl
+stood before her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with all
+her own gentle nobility of soul.
+
+As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth’s house stood, Kemp
+said deliberately,--
+
+“Well?”
+
+“I thank you. Where does she live?”
+
+Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughts
+within. They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gate
+before he answered. When he did, after they had passed through, he took
+both her hands in his.
+
+“I shall take you there,” he said, looking down at her with grave,
+smiling eyes; “I knew you would not fail me. When shall I call for you?”
+
+“Do not call for me at all; I think--I know it will be better for me to
+walk in alone, as of my own accord.”
+
+“Ah, yes!” he said, and told her the address. She ran lightly up the
+steps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pair
+of starry eyes to his.
+
+“Dr. Kemp,” she said, “I have had an exceptionally lovely evening. I
+shall not soon forget it.”
+
+“Nor I,” he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gently
+raised her gloved hand to his lips. Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of the
+old school in his manner of showing reverence to women.
+
+“My brave young friend!” he said; and the next minute his firm footfall
+was crunching the gravel of the walk. Neither of them had remembered
+that he was to have come in with her. She waited till the gate clicked
+behind him, and then softly closed the heavy door.
+
+“My brave young friend!” The words mounted like wine to her head. She
+forgot her surroundings and stood in a sweet dream in the hall, slowly
+unbuttoning her glove. She must have remained in this attitude for five
+minutes, when, raising her eyes, still shadowy with thought, she saw her
+cousin before her down the hall, his arm resting on the newel-post.
+
+“Louis!” she cried in surprise; and without considering, she hurried to
+him, threw her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Arnold,
+taken by storm, stepped slightly back.
+
+“When did you get home?” she asked, the pale rose-flush that mantled her
+cheeks making her face exquisite.
+
+“A half an hour ago.”
+
+She looked at him quickly.
+
+“Are you tired, Louis?” she inquired gently. “You are somewhat pale, and
+you speak in that way.”
+
+“Did you enjoy the play?” he asked quietly, passing by her remarks.
+
+“The play!” she echoed, and then a quick burning blush suffused
+her face. The epilogue had wholly obliterated the play from her
+recollection.
+
+“Oh, of course,” she responded, turning from the rather sardonic smile
+of his lips and seating herself on the stairs; “do you want to hear
+about it now?”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Well,” she began, laying her gloves in her lap and snuggling her chin
+in the palms of her hands, “shall I tell you how I felt about it? In
+the first place, I was not ashamed of Shylock; if his vengeance was
+distorted, the cause distorted it. But, oh, Louis, the misery of that
+poor old man! After all, his punishment was as fiendish as his guilt.
+Booth was great. I wish you could have seen the play of his wonderful
+eyebrow and the eloquence of his fine hand. Poor old, lonely Shylock!
+With all his intellect, how could he regret that wretched little
+Jessica?”
+
+“He was a Jewish father.”
+
+“How singularly you say that! Of course he was a Jew; but Jewish hardly
+describes him,--at least, according to the modern idea. Are you coming
+up?”
+
+“Yes. Go on; I will lower the gas.”
+
+“Wouldn’t you like something to eat or drink? You look so worn out; let
+me get you something.”
+
+“Thanks; I have dined. Good-night.” The girl passed on to her pretty
+white and gold room. Shylock had again fled from her memory, but there
+was singing in her heart a deep, grave voice saying,--
+
+“My brave young friend!”
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+“A humble bard presents his respects to my Lady Marechal Niel, and begs
+her to step down to the gate for about two minutes.”
+
+The note was handed to Ruth early the next morning as she stood in the
+kitchen beating up eggs for an omelette for her mother’s breakfast. A
+smile of mingled surprise and amusement overspread her face as she
+read; instinctively turning the card, she saw, “Herbert Kemp, M. D.,” in
+simple lithograph.
+
+“Do I look all right, Mary?” she asked hurriedly, placing the bowl on
+the table and half turning to the cook as she walked to the door. Mary
+deliberately placed both hands on her hips and eyed her sharply.
+
+“And striped flannel dresses and hairs in braids,” she began, as she
+always did, as if continuing a thought, “being nice, pretty flannel and
+nice, pretty braids, Miss Ruth do look sweet-like, which is nothing out
+of the common, for she always do!”
+
+The last was almost shouted after Ruth, who had run from the cook’s
+prolixity.
+
+As she hurried down the walk, she recognized the doctor’s carriage,
+containing the doctor himself with Bob in state beside him. Two hands
+went up to two respective hats as the gate swung behind her, and she
+advanced with hand extended to Bob.
+
+“You are looking much better,” she exclaimed heartily, shaking the
+rather bashfully outstretched hand; “your first outing, is it not?”
+
+“Yes, lady.” It had been impossible for her to make him call her by
+name.
+
+“He elected to pay his first devoirs to the Queen of Roses, as he
+expressed it,” spoke up Kemp, with his disengaged hand on the boy’s
+shoulder, and looking with a puzzled expression at Ruth. Last night she
+had been a young woman; this morning she was a young girl; it was
+only after he had driven off that he discovered the cause lay in the
+arrangement of her hair.
+
+“Thank you, Bob; presently I expect to have you paying me a visit on
+foot, when we can come to a clearer understanding about my flower-beds.”
+
+“He says,” returned the boy, turning an almost humbly devoted look on
+Kemp, “that I must not think of gardening for some weeks. And so--and
+so--”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“And so,” explained the doctor, briskly, “he is going to hold my
+reins on our rounds, and imbibe a world of sunshine to expend on some
+flowers--yours or mine, perhaps--by and by.”
+
+Bob’s eyes were luminous with feeling as they rested on the dark,
+bearded face of his benefactor.
+
+“Now say all you have to say, and we’ll be off,” said Kemp, tucking in
+the robe at Bob’s side.
+
+“I didn’t have anything to say, sir; I came only to let her know.”
+
+“And I am so glad, Bob,” said Ruth, smiling up into the boy’s shy,
+speaking eyes. People always will try to add to the comfort of a
+convalescent, and Ruth, in turn, drew down the robe over the lad’s
+hands. As she did so, her cousin, Jennie Lewis, passed hurriedly by. Her
+quick blue eyes took in to a detail the attitudes of the trio.
+
+“Good-morning, Jennie,” said Ruth, turning; “are you coming in?”
+
+“Not now,” bowing stiffly and hurrying on.
+
+“Cabbage-rose.”
+
+Bob delivered himself of this sentiment as gently as if he had let fall
+a pearl.
+
+The doctor gave a quick look at Ruth, which she met, smiling.
+
+“He cannot help his inspiration,” she remarked easily, and stepped back
+as the doctor pulled the reins.
+
+“Come again, Bob,” she called, and with a smile to Kemp she ran in.
+
+“And I was going to say,” continued Mary, as she re-entered the kitchen,
+“that a speck of aig splashed on your cheek, Miss Ruth.”
+
+“Oh, Mary, where?”
+
+“But not knowin’ that you would see anybody, I didn’t think to run after
+you; so it’s just this side your mouth, like if you hadn’t wiped it good
+after breakfast.”
+
+Ruth rubbed it off, wondering with vexation if the doctor had noticed
+it. Truth to say, the doctor had noticed it, and naturally placed the
+same passing construction on it that Mary had suggested. Not that the
+little yellow splash occupied much of his attention. When he drove
+off, all he thought of Ruth’s appearance was that her braided hair hung
+gracefully and heavily down her back; that she looked young,--decidedly
+young and missish; and that he had probably spoken indiscreetly and
+impulsively to the wrong person on a wrong subject the night before.
+
+Dress has a subtile influence upon our actions: one gown can make a
+romp, another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette,
+out of the same woman. The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to the
+fitness or unfitness of dress. Now, Ruth was without doubt the same
+girl who had so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor’s
+unconventional story; but the fashion of her gown had changed the
+impression she had made a few hours back.
+
+An hour later, and Dr. Kemp could not have failed to recognize Ruth,
+the woman of his confidence. Something, perhaps a dormant spirit of
+worldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of her
+going out. She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisability
+of her action; but the certain knowledge of her mother’s disapproval of
+such a proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, would
+have cost her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act. A bit of subterfuge
+which hurts no one is often not only excusable, but commendable.
+Besides, it saved her mother an annoying controversy; and so, fully
+satisfied as to her part, Ruth took her way down the street. The
+question as to whether the doctor had gone beyond the bounds of their
+brief acquaintance had of course been presented to her mind; but if a
+slight flush came into her face when she remembered the nature of the
+narrative and the personality of the narrator, it was quickly banished
+by the sweet assurance that in this way he had honored her beyond the
+reach of current flattery.
+
+A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave brown
+eyes; with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, and
+she longed to do it well. Her purpose robbed her of every trace of
+nervousness; and it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knocked
+at room Number 10 on the second floor of a respectable lodging-house on
+Polk Street.
+
+Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly.
+At this a tired voice called, “Come in.”
+
+She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in
+a small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near the
+window, but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to
+be a golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the
+chair, and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruth
+hesitated after closing the door behind her, she found a pair of
+listless violet eyes regarding her from a small white face.
+
+“Well?” queried the girl, without changing her position except to allow
+her gaze to travel to the floor.
+
+“You are Miss Rose Delano?” said Ruth, as she came a step nearer.
+
+“What of that?” Asked the girl, lifelessly, her dull eyes wandering
+everywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor.
+
+“I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp. Will that introduction be
+enough to make you shake hands with me?”
+
+She advanced toward her, holding out her hand. A burning flame shot
+across Rose Delano’s face, and she shrank farther back among her
+pillows.
+
+“No,” she said, putting up a repellent hand; “it is not enough. Do not
+touch me, or you will regret it. You must not, I say.” She arose quickly
+from her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth. The latter, taller than
+she by head and shoulders, looked down at her smiling.
+
+“I know no reason why I must not,” she replied gently.
+
+“You do not know me.”
+
+“No; but I know of you.”
+
+“Then why did you come; why don’t you go?” The blue eyes looked with
+passionate resentment at her.
+
+“Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands with
+you.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Why do you wish to do that?”
+
+“Because I wish to be your friend. May we not be friends? I am not much
+older than you, I think.”
+
+“You are centuries younger. Who sent you here? Dr. Kemp?”
+
+“No one sent me; I came of my own free will.”
+
+“Then go as you came.”
+
+“No.”
+
+She stood gracefully and quietly before her. Rose Delano moved farther
+from her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes.
+
+“You do not know what you are doing,” cried the girl, excitedly; “have
+you no father or mother, no one to tell you what a girl should not do?”
+
+“I have both; but I have also a friend,--Dr. Kemp.”
+
+“He is my friend too,” affirmed Rose, tremulously.
+
+“Then we have one good thing in common; and since he is my friend and
+yours, why should we not be friends?”
+
+“Because he is a man, and you are a woman. He has then told you my
+story?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here--to such a creature as
+I?”
+
+“I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you. But, oh, little
+one, I do so grieve for you because you won’t believe that the world is
+not all merciless. Come, give me your hand.”
+
+“No,” she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as the
+other advanced; “go away, please. You are very good, but you are very
+foolish. Bad as I am, however, I shall not let you harm yourself more;
+leave my room, please.”
+
+“Not till I have held your hands in mine.”
+
+“Stop! I tell you I don’t want you to come here; I don’t want your
+friendship. Can’t you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheart
+will upbraid you if you fail to carry out his will?”
+
+“My sweetheart?” she asked in questioning wonder.
+
+“Yes; only a lover could make a girl like you so forget herself. I speak
+of Dr. Kemp.”
+
+“But he is not my lover,” she stated, still speaking gently, but with a
+pale face turned to her companion.
+
+“I--I--beg your pardon,” faltered the girl, humbly drooping her head,
+shamed by the cold pride in her tormentor’s face; “but why, oh, why,
+then, won’t you go?” she continued, wildly sobbing. “I assure you it is
+best.”
+
+“This is best,” said Ruth, deliberately; and before Rose knew it she had
+seized her two hands, and unclasping them from behind her, drew them to
+her own breast.
+
+“Now,” she said, holding them tightly, “who is the stronger, you or I?”
+ She looked pleasantly down at the tear-stained face so close to hers.
+
+“O God!” breathed the girl, her storm-beaten eyes held by the power of
+her captor’s calmness.
+
+“Now we are friends,” said Ruth, softly, “shall we sit down and talk?”
+
+Still holding the slender hands, she drew up a chair, and seating the
+frail girl in the armchair, sat down beside her.
+
+“Oh, wait!” whispered Rose; “let me tell you everything before you make
+me live again.”
+
+“I know everything; and truly, Rose, nothing you can say could make me
+wish to befriend you less.”
+
+“How nobly, how kindly he must have told you!”
+
+“Hush! He told me nothing but the truth. To me you are a victim, not a
+culprit. And now, tell me, do you feel perfectly strong?”
+
+“Oh, yes.” The little hand swept in agony over her sad, childish face.
+
+“Then you ought to go out for a nice walk. You have no idea how pleasant
+it is this morning.”
+
+“I can’t, indeed I can’t! and, oh, why should I?”
+
+“You can and you must, because you must go to work soon.”
+
+Two frightened eyes were raised to hers.
+
+“Yes,” she added, patting the hand she held; “you are a teacher, are you
+not?”
+
+“I was,” she replied, the catch in her voice still audible.
+
+“What are you used to teaching?”
+
+“Spanish, and English literature.”
+
+“Spanish--with your blue eyes!” The sudden outburst of surprise sent a
+faint April-like beam into Rose’s face.
+
+“Si, Senorita.”
+
+“Then you must teach me. Let me see. Wednesdays,--Wednesday afternoon,
+yes?”
+
+Again the frightened eyes appealed to her; but Ruth ignored them.
+
+“And so many of my friends would like to speak Spanish. Will you teach
+them too?”
+
+“Oh, Miss Levice, how can I go with such a past?”
+
+“I tell you,” said Ruth, proudly rearing her head, “if I introduce you
+as my friend, you are, you must be, presentable.”
+
+The pale lips strove to answer her.
+
+“To-morrow I shall come with a number of names of girls who are ‘dying,’
+as they say, to speak Spanish, and then you can go and make arrangements
+with them. Will you?”
+
+Thus pushed to the wall, Rose’s tear-filled eyes were her only answer.
+
+Ruth’s own filled in turn.
+
+“Dear little Rose,” she said, her usual sweet voice coming back to her,
+“won’t it be lovely to do this? You will feel so much better when you
+once get out and are earning your independent, pleasant living again.
+And now will you forgive me for having been so harsh?”
+
+“Forgive you!” A red spot glowed on each pallid cheek; she raised her
+eyes and said with simple fervor, “I would die for you.”
+
+“No, but you may live for me,” laughed Ruth, rising; “will you promise
+me to go out this morning, just for a block or two?”
+
+“I promise you.”
+
+“Well, then, good-by.” She held out her hand meaningly; a little
+fluttering one was placed in hers, and Ruth bent and kissed the wistful
+mouth. That pure kiss would have wiped out every stain from Rose’s
+worshipping soul.
+
+“I shall see you to-morrow surely,” she called back, turning a radiant
+face to the lonely little figure in the doorway. She felt deliriously
+happy as she ran down the stairs; her eyes shone like stars; a buoyant
+joyfulness spoke in her step.
+
+“It is so easy to be happy when one has everything,” she mused. She
+forgot to add, “And gives much.” There is so much happiness derived from
+a kind action that were it not for the motive, charity might be called
+supreme selfishness.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI.
+
+She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged to
+take Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been ill
+and was in want.
+
+“And I was thinking,” she added with naive policy, “that I might combine
+a little business with pleasure this afternoon,--pay off some of those
+ever urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time try
+to get up a class of pupils for Miss Delano. What do you think?”
+
+“That would be nice; don’t forget Mrs. Bunker. I know you don’t like
+her, but you must pay a call for the musical which we did not attend;
+and she has children who might like to learn Spanish. I wonder if I
+could take lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet so
+old but I may learn.”
+
+“You might ask the doctor. He has almost dismissed himself now; and
+after we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in a
+class. Mother and daughter can then go to school together.”
+
+“It is very fortunate,” Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping her
+necessary glass of port, “that C---- sent your hat this morning to wear
+with your new gown. Isn’t it?”
+
+“Fortunate!” Ruth exclaimed, laughing banteringly; “it is destiny.”
+
+So Mrs. Levice slipped easily into Ruth’s plan from a social standpoint,
+and Ruth slipped out, trim and graceful, from her mother’s artistic
+manipulations.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till her
+husband’s return, which promised to be early in the afternoon.
+
+She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis came
+bustling in. Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; one
+looked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which one
+anticipates the latest number of a society journal.
+
+“Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther,” she said after they had
+exchanged greetings. “I have brought my work, so I shall not mind the
+quiet in the least.”
+
+“As if I would bore you in that way!” returned Mrs. Levice, with a
+laughing glance at her, as she closed her desk. “Lay off your things,
+and let us have a downright comfortable afternoon. Don’t forget a single
+sensation; I am actually starving for one.”
+
+Mrs. Lewis smiled grimly as she fluffed up her bang with her hat-pin.
+She drew up a second cosey rocking-chair near her aunt’s, drew out her
+needle and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, her
+tongue soon acquired its accustomed momentum.
+
+“Where is Ruth?” she began, winding her thread round her chubby,
+ring-bedecked finger.
+
+“She is paying off some calls for a change.”
+
+“Indeed! Got down to conventionality again?” “You would not call her
+unconventional, would you?”
+
+“Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion.”
+
+Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly. Without doubt there was an
+underground mine beneath this non-committal remark. Mrs. Lewis rocked
+violently backward and forward without raising her eyes. Her face was
+beet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent. Mrs. Levice
+waited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousin
+disapproved of so obviously. She like Jennie; every one who knew her
+recognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew her
+agreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, to
+Mrs. Lewis’s imagination, and these airy comfits were passed around
+promiscuously to whoever was on hand. Not a sound broke the portentous
+silence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needle
+through, and the hurricane she raised with her rocking.
+
+“I was at the theatre last night.”
+
+The blow drew no blood.
+
+“Which theatre?” asked Mrs. Levice, innocently.
+
+“The Baldwin; Booth played the ‘Merchant of Venice.’”
+
+“Did you enjoy it?” queried her aunt, either evading or failing to
+perceive the meaning.
+
+“I did.” A pause, and then, “Did Ruth?”
+
+Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at no
+perturbation.
+
+“Very much. Booth is her actor-idol, you know.”
+
+“So I have heard.” She spread her crochet work on her knee as if
+measuring its length, then with striking indifference picked it up again
+and adjusted her needle,--
+
+“She came in rather late, didn’t she?”
+
+“Did she?” questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirect
+thrusts. “I did not know; had the curtain risen?”
+
+“No; there was plenty of time for every one to recognize her.”
+
+“I had no idea she was so well known.”
+
+“Those who did not know her, knew her escort. Dr. Kemp is well known,
+and his presence is naturally remarked.”
+
+“Yes; his appearance is very striking.”
+
+“Aunt Esther!” The vehemence of Mrs. Lewis’s feelings sent her ball of
+cotton rolling to the other end of the room.
+
+“My dear, what is it?” Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interested
+eyes on her niece.
+
+“You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruth
+with Dr. Kemp.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman but
+Uncle or Louis, and we all were surprised. The Hoffmans sat behind us,
+and Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant. I met several
+acquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made some
+remark about Ruth. One said, ‘I had no idea the Levices were so intimate
+with Dr. Kemp;’ another young girl laughed and said, ‘Ruth Levice had a
+swell escort last night, didn’t she?’ Still another asked, ‘Anything on
+the tapis in your family, Mrs. Lewis?’ And what could I say?”
+
+“What did you say?”
+
+Mrs. Levice’s quiet tone did not betray her vexation. She had feared
+just such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but her
+husband’s views had overruled hers, and she was now bound to uphold his.
+Nevertheless, she hated anything of the kind.
+
+“I simply said I knew nothing at all about it, except that he was your
+physician. Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have said more.”
+
+“There is no more to be said. Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendly
+through their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in the
+course of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious to
+see this play, and had no escort. So he asked her, and her father saw
+no objection to her going. It is a pity she didn’t think to hand round a
+written explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre.”
+
+“There you go, Aunt Esther! Jewish friends! I am sure that no matter how
+indifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewish
+girls never go alone to the theatre with any one outside of the family,
+and certainly not with a Christian.”
+
+“What has that to do with it, so long as he is a gentleman?”
+
+“Nothing. Only I didn’t think you cared to have Ruth’s name coupled with
+one.”
+
+“No, nor with any one. But as I cannot control people’s tongues--”
+
+“Then I would not give them cause for wagging. Aunt Esther, is there
+anything between Ruth and Dr. Kemp?”
+
+“Jennie, you surprise and anger me. Do you know what you insinuate?”
+
+“I can’t help it. Either you are crazy, or ignorant of what is going on,
+and I consider it my duty to enlighten you,”--a gossip’s duties are all
+away from home,--“unless, of course, you prefer to remain in blissful or
+wilful ignorance.”
+
+“Speak out, please.”
+
+“Of course I knew you must have sanctioned her going last night, though,
+I must confess, I still think you did very wrongly; but do you know
+where she went this morning?”
+
+Mrs. Levice was put out. She was enough of a Jewess to realize that
+if you dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowly
+conventional Jewish pathway. That Ruth, her only daughter, should be
+the subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; but
+that her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed her
+beyond endurance.
+
+“I do know,” she said in response to the foregoing question. “Ruth is
+not a sneak,--she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mild
+that there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on a
+poor young girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish.”
+
+“A friend of Dr. Kemp.”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate,
+lost her child at its birth.”
+
+The faint flush on Mrs. Levice’s cheek receded.
+
+“Who told you this?” she questioned in an even, low voice.
+
+“I thought you could not know. Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girl
+lives, told me.”
+
+“And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?”
+
+“I will tell you. Mrs. Blake does my white sewing. I was there this
+morning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving another
+farther down the hall. Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room,
+and she told me the story.”
+
+“Naturally.” The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis’s face.
+
+“For me it was; and in this case,” she retorted with rising accents, “my
+vulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account of
+the girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth is
+the only visitor she has had.”
+
+“I am sorry to hear this, Jennie.”
+
+“I know you are, Aunt Esther. But what I find so very queer is that Dr.
+Kemp, who pretends to be her friend,--and I have seen them together many
+times,--should have sent her there. Don’t you?”
+
+“I do not understand it at all,--neither Ruth nor him.”
+
+“Surely you don’t think Ruth knew anything of this?” questioned Mrs.
+Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
+
+“Of course not,” returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely. She had long ago
+acknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter’s nature
+that she had never gauged.
+
+“I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a man
+nevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck me
+as very suggestive that he was that girl’s only friend.”
+
+“Therefore he must have been a good friend.”
+
+Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr.
+Levice, who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Levice
+breathed a sigh of hysterical relief.
+
+“Good-afternoon, Jennie,” he said, coming into the room and shaking her
+hand; “sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;” he stooped to kiss his
+wife.
+
+Mrs. Lewis’s hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed. She
+had been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the head
+and pride of the whole family.
+
+“I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you are
+so poor as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which you
+evidently know nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views to
+yourself.” It was the habit of all of Levice’s relatives to listen in
+silence to any personal reprimand the dignified old man might offer.
+
+“I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterize
+it as--petty. Can’t you and your friends see anything without springing
+at shilling-shocker conclusions? Don’t you know that people sometimes
+enjoy themselves without any further design? So much for the theatre
+talk. What is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge my
+honorable friend, Dr. Kemp. Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be as
+remote from Dr. Kemp’s possibilities as the antipodes. Remember, what I
+say is indisputable. Whether Ruth knew the story of this girl or not,
+I cannot say, but either way I feel assured that what she did was
+well done--if innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better. And I
+venture to assert that she is not a whit harmed by the action. In
+all probability she will tell us all the particulars if we ask her.
+Otherwise, Jennie, don’t you think you have been unnecessarily alarmed?”
+ The benign gentleness of his question calmed Mrs. Lewis.
+
+“Uncle,” she replied earnestly, “in my life such things are not
+trivial; perhaps because my life is narrower. I know you and Ruth take a
+different view of everything.”
+
+“Don’t disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradicted
+or to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared to
+change them. A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the level
+of a spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, for
+it is more deadly than a sword. Your higher interests should make you
+overlook every little action of your neighbors. You only see or hear
+what takes place when the window is open; you can never judge from this
+what takes place when the window is shut. How are the children?”
+
+By dint of great tenderness he strove to make her more at ease.
+
+Ruth, confronted with their knowledge, confessed, with flushed cheeks
+and glowing eyes, her contretemps.
+
+“And,” she said in conclusion, “Father, Mamma, nothing you can say will
+make me retract anything I have done or purpose doing.”
+
+“Nothing?” repeated her father.
+
+“I hope you won’t ask me to, but that is my decision.”
+
+“My darling, I dislike to hear you call yourself a mule,” said her
+father, looking at her with something softer than disapproval; “but in
+this case I shall not use the whip to turn you from your purpose. Eh,
+Esther?”
+
+“It is Quixotic,” affirmed Mrs. Levice; “but since you have gone so far,
+there is no reasonable way of getting out of it. When next I see the
+doctor, I shall speak to him of it.”
+
+“There will be no occasion, dear,” remonstrated the indulgent father, at
+sight of the annoyed flash in Ruth’s eyes; “I shall.”
+
+By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not so
+smooth as one of many children may think; every action of the former
+assumes such prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and very
+often sent to Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-lucky
+offspring has his little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked,
+through the propinquity of others.
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+If Ruth, in the privacy of her heart, realized that she was sailing
+toward dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears.
+Possibly she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smooth
+stream of delight. When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warning
+black lurking in the far horizon. Without doubt the girl’s soul and
+sympathies were receiving their proper food. Life was full for her, not
+because she was occupied,--for a busy life does not always prove a
+full one,--but because she entered thoroughly into the lives of others,
+struggled with their struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and was
+beginning to see in everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence.
+Under ordinary circumstances one cannot see much misery without
+experiencing a world of disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; but
+Ruth was not living just at that time under ordinary circumstances.
+
+Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that made
+her pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twin
+dreamstars. She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard save
+only by herself. At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly name
+to herself the meaning of it all, a puritanic modesty withheld her.
+Yet all the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banish
+from her memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light that
+fell from eyes that glanced at her. For the present, these were grace
+sufficient for her daily need. Given the perfume, what need to name the
+flower?
+
+Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in their
+different ways. Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she was
+growing more softly beautiful. Her father, holding his hands a few
+inches from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzled
+look, “I am afraid to touch you; sparks might fly.”
+
+Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her hands
+clasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting in
+the witchery of their expression. By some occult power her glance
+fell unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement and
+speculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands went
+swiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, and
+she passed quickly from the room. Arnold sat down to solve this problem
+of an unknown quantity.
+
+Ruth’s birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting with
+Rose Delano.
+
+The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consisted
+only in making the day pass pleasantly for the one whose day of days it
+was,--a graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one for
+all concerned.
+
+On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in her
+element. She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had worn
+five years before on the occasion of some festivity. The girlish fashion
+of the white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, the
+round baby waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child of
+her.
+
+“Who can imagine me seventeen?” she asked gayly as she entered the
+library, softly lighted by many wax candles. Her mother, who was again
+enjoying the freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced in
+her own particular chair, looked up at her.
+
+“That little frock makes me long to take you in my lap,” said she,
+brightly.
+
+“And it makes me long to be there,” answered Ruth, throwing herself into
+her mother’s arms and twining her arms about her neck.
+
+“How now, Mr. Arnold, you can’t scare me tonight with your sarcastic
+disapproval!” she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousin
+seated in a deep blue-cushioned chair.
+
+“I have no desire to scare you, little one,” he answered pleasantly. “I
+only do that to children or grown-up people.”
+
+“And what am I, pray, good sir?”
+
+“You are neither; you are neither child or woman; you are neither flesh
+nor spirit; you are uncanny.”
+
+“Dear me! In other words, I am a conundrum. Who will guess me?”
+
+“You are the Sphinx,” replied her cousin.
+
+“I won’t be that ugly-faced thing,” she retorted; “guess again.”
+
+“Impossible. Once acquire a sphinx’s elusiveness and you are a mystery
+perpetual. You alone can unriddle the riddle.”
+
+“I can’t. I give myself up.”
+
+“Not so fast, young woman,” broke in her father, shutting his magazine
+and settling his glasses more firmly upon his nose; “that is an office I
+alone can perform. Who has been hunting on my preserves?”
+
+“Alas! They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score.” She sat
+up with a forlorn sigh, adding, “Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and
+not a heart to hang on my chatelaine.”
+
+“Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays,” said Louis, reassuringly;
+“I am sure you have mittened one or two.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” she answered, laughing evasively, “both of little Toddie
+Flynn’s. Mamma, don’t you think I am too big a baby for you to hold
+long?” She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father’s chair,
+exclaimed,--
+
+“Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it
+short and sweet and with a moral like you.”
+
+Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.
+
+“Once upon a time,” he began, “a little boy went into his father’s
+warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but he
+was so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him. That is short and sweet;
+and what is the moral?”
+
+“Selfishness brings misery,” answered Ruth, promptly; “clever of both of
+us, but what is the analogy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feel
+as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights.”
+
+“And get scorched for my pains? Thanks; this is very comfortable.
+Distance adds to illusion.”
+
+“You don’t mean to admit you have any illusions, do you? Why, those
+glasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Did
+you ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?”
+
+“Yes; there is a standing institution of whose honest value there is no
+doubt.”
+
+“And that is?”
+
+“My bed.”
+
+“After all, it is a lying institution, my friend; and are you not
+deposing your masculine muse,--your cigar? Oh, that reminds me of the
+annual peace-pipe.”
+
+She jumped up, snatched a candle, and left the room. As she turned
+toward the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell.
+She stood quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid opened
+the door.
+
+“Is Miss Levice in?” asked the voice that made the little candle-light
+seem like myriads of swimming stars. As the maid answered in the
+affirmative, she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancing
+eyes of Dr. Kemp.
+
+“Good-evening,” she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which he
+grasped and shook heartily.
+
+“Is it Santa Filomena?” he asked, smiling into her eyes.
+
+“No, only Ruth Levice, who is pleased to see you. Will you step into the
+library? We are having a little home evening together.”
+
+“Thank you. Directly.” He slipped out of his topcoat, and turning
+quietly to her, said, “But before we go in, and I enact the odd number,
+I wish to say a few words to you alone, please.”
+
+She bent a look of inquiry upon him, and meeting the gaze of his
+compelling eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room. He
+noticed how the soft light she held made her the only white spot in the
+dark room, till, touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo over
+everything. That it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at a
+glance.
+
+She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself in
+a quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread like
+hands of blessing above her head. The doctor declined to sit down, but
+stood with one hand upon the fragile table and looked down at her.
+
+“I am inclined to think, after all,” he said slowly, “that you are in
+truth the divine lady with the light. It is a pretty name and a pretty
+fame,--that of Santa Filomena.”
+
+What had come over her eyelids that they refused to be raised?
+
+“I think,” he continued with a low laugh, “that I shall always call you
+so, and have all rights reserved. May I?”
+
+“I am afraid,” she answered, raising her eyes, “that your poem would
+be without rhyme or reason; a candle is too slight a thing for such an
+assumption.”
+
+“But not a Rose Delano. I saw her to-day, and at least one sufferer
+would turn to kiss your shadow. Do you know what a wonderfully beautiful
+thing you have done? I came to-night to thank you; for any one who makes
+good our ideals is a subject for thanks. Of course, the thing had no
+personal bearing upon myself; but being an officious fellow, I thought
+it proper to let you know that I know. That is my only excuse for
+coming.”
+
+“Did you need an excuse?”
+
+“That, or an invitation.”
+
+“Oh, I never thought of you--as--as--”
+
+“As a man?”
+
+How to answer this? Then finally she said,--
+
+“As caring to waste an evening.”
+
+“Would it be a waste? There is an old adage that one might adapt, then,
+‘A wilful waste makes a woful want.’ Want is a bad thing, so economy
+would not be a half-bad idea. Shall we go in to your family now, or will
+they not think you have been spirited away?”
+
+He took the candle from her, and they retraced their steps. As she
+turned the handle of the door, she said,--
+
+“Will you give me the candle, please, and walk in? I am going upstairs.”
+
+“Are you coming down again?” he asked, standing abruptly still.
+
+“Oh, yes. Father,” she called, opening wide the door, “here is Dr.
+Kemp.”
+
+With this announcement she fled up the staircase.
+
+She had come up for some cigars; but when she got into her father’s
+room, she seated herself blindly and looked aimlessly down at her hands.
+What a blessed reprieve this was! If she could but stay here! She could
+if it were not for the peace-pipe. Such a silly performance too! Father
+kept those superfine cigars over in the cabinet there. Should she bring
+only two as usual? Then she was going? Why not? It would look very rude
+not to do so. Besides, she wondered what they were talking about. She
+supposed she must have looked very foolish in that gown with her hair
+all mussed; and then his eyes---- She arose suddenly and walked to the
+dressing-table with her light. After all, it was not very unbecoming.
+Had her face been so white all the evening? Louis liked her face to be
+colorless. Oh, she had better hurry down.
+
+“Here comes the chief!” cried her mother as she entered. “Now, Doctor,
+you can see the native celebrating her natal day.”
+
+“She enacts the witch,” said her father “and sends us, living, to the
+happy hunting-grounds. Will you join us, Doctor?”
+
+“If Lachesis thinks me worthy. Is the operation painful?”
+
+He received no answer as Ruth came forward with a box of tempting
+Havanas. She selected one, and placing the box on a chair, reached to
+the high-tiled mantel-shelf, whence she took a tiny pair of scissors and
+deftly cut off the point of the cigar. She seemed quite unconscious that
+all were watching her. Louis handed her a lighted match, and putting the
+cigar between her lips, she lit it into life. The doctor was amused.
+
+She blew up a wreath of the fragrant smoke and handing it to her father,
+said,--
+
+“With this year’s love, Father.”
+
+The doctor grew interested.
+
+She took another, and lighting it as gracefully, and without the
+slightest approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis’s outstretched
+hand.
+
+“Well?” he suggested, holding it from his lips till she had spoken.
+
+“I can think of nothing you care for sufficiently to wish you.”
+
+“Nothing?”
+
+“Unless,” with sudden mischief, “I wish you a comfortable bed all the
+year round--and pleasant dreams, Louis.”
+
+“That is much,” he answered dryly as he drew a cloud of smoke.
+
+The doctor became anticipative.
+
+Ruth’s embarrassment was evident as she turned and offered him a cigar.
+
+“Do you smoke?” she asked, holding out the box.
+
+“Like a chimney,” he replied, looking at her, but taking none, “and in
+the same manner as other common mortals.”
+
+She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hint
+his words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, saying
+as he did so, “So you were born in summer,--the time of all good things.
+Well, ‘Thy dearest wish, wish I thee,’ and may it not pass in the
+smoking!”
+
+She swept him a deep, mock courtesy.
+
+After this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation. She
+knew that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages for
+a bachelor of club life over home life. She knew that Louis was making
+some brilliantly cynical remarks,--asserting that the apparent privacy
+of the latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the former
+was deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter. All of
+which the doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic.
+
+“Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor,” Mrs. Levice
+summed up, “and that is to marry. Louis complains of the club, and
+thinks himself a sort of cynosure in a large household. You, Doctor,
+complain of the want of coseyness in a bachelor establishment. To state
+it simply, you need a wife.”
+
+“And oust my Pooh-ba! Madame, you do not know what a treasure that old
+soldier of mine is. If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but be
+paying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house and
+linen; he entertains my palate as deliciously as a Corinne her salon,
+and--is never in my way or thoughts. Can you commend me any woman so
+self-abnegatory?”
+
+“Many women, but no wife, I am glad to say. But you need one.”
+
+“So! Pray explain wherein the lack is apparent.”
+
+“Oh, not to me, but--”
+
+“You mean you consider a wife an adjunct to a doctor’s certificate.”
+
+“It is a great guarantee with women,” put in Louis, “as a voucher
+against impatience with their own foibles. They think only home practice
+can secure the adequate tolerance. Eh, Aunt Esther?”
+
+“Nonsense, Louis!” interrupted Mr. Levice; “what has that to do with
+skill?”
+
+“Skill is one thing; the manner of man is another--with women.”
+
+“That is worth considering--or adding to the curriculum,” observed Kemp,
+turning his steady, quiet gaze upon Arnold.
+
+Ruth noticed that the two men had taken the same position,--vis--vis to
+each other in their respective easy-chairs, their heads thrown back upon
+the cushions, their arms resting on the chair-arms. Something in Louis’s
+veiled eyes caused her to interpose.
+
+“Will you play, Louis?” she asked.
+
+“Not to-night, ma cousine,” he replied, glancing at her from lowered
+lids.
+
+“It is not optional with you to-night, Louis,” she insisted playfully,
+rising; “we--desire you to play.”
+
+“Or be punished for treason? Has your Majesty any other behest?”
+
+“No; I shall even turn the leaves for you.”
+
+“The leaves of what,--memory? I’ll play by rote.”
+
+He strolled over to the piano and sat down. He struck a few random
+chords, some soft, some florid, some harsh, some melting; he strung them
+together and then glided into a dreamy, melodious rhythm, that faded
+into a bird-like hallelujah,--swelling now into grandeur, then fainting
+into sobs, then rushing into an allegro so brilliantly bewildering that
+when the closing chords came like the pealing tones of an organ, Ruth
+drew a long sigh with the last lingering vibrations.
+
+“What is that?” asked Levice, looking curiously at his nephew, who,
+turning on his music-chair, took up his cigar again.
+
+“That,” he replied, flecking an ash from his coat lapel, “has no name
+that I know of; some people call it ‘The Soul.’”
+
+A pained sensation shot through Ruth at his words, for he had plainly
+been improvising, and he must have felt what he had played.
+
+“Here, Ruth, sing this,” he continued, turning round and picking up a
+sheet of music.
+
+“What?” she asked without moving.
+
+“‘The bugle;’ I like it.”
+
+Kemp looked at her expectantly. He said he had not known she sang; but
+since she did, he was sure her voice was contralto.
+
+“Why?” she asked.
+
+“Because your face is contralto.”
+
+She turned from his eyes as if they hurt her, and walked over to Louis’s
+side.
+
+It could hardly be called singing. Louis had often said that her voice
+needed merely to be set to rhythmic time to be music; in pursuance of
+which idea he would put into her hand some poem that touched his
+fancy, tell her to read it, and as she read, he would adapt to it
+an accompaniment according to the meaning and measure of the
+lines,--grandly solemn, daintily tripping, or wildly inspiriting. It was
+more like a chant than a song. To-night he chose Tennyson’s Bugle-song.
+Her voice was subservient to the accompaniment, that shook its faint,
+sweet bugle-notes at first as in a rosy splendor; it rose and swelled
+and echoed and reverberated and died away slowly as if loath to depart.
+Arnold’s playing was the poem, Ruth’s voice the music the poet
+might have heard as he wrote, sweet as a violin, deep as the feeling
+evolved,--for when she came to the line beginning, “oh, love, they die
+in yon rich sky,” she might have stood alone with one, in some high,
+clear place, so mellow was the thrill of her voice, so rapt the
+expression of her face. Kemp looked as if he would not tire if the sound
+should “grow forever and forever.”
+
+Mrs. Levice was wakeful after she had gone to bed. Her husband also
+seemed inclined to prolong the night, for he made no move to undress.
+
+“Jules,” said she in a low, confidential tone, “do you realize that our
+daughter is twenty-two?”
+
+He looked at her with a half-smile.
+
+“Is not this her birthday?”
+
+“Her twenty-second, and she is still unmarried.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, it is time she were. I should like to see it.”
+
+“So should I,” he acquiesced with marked decision.
+
+Mrs. Levice straightened herself up in bed and looked at her husband
+eagerly.
+
+“Is it possible,” she exclaimed, “that we have both thought of the same
+parti?”
+
+It was now Mr. Levice’s turn to start into an interested position.
+
+“Of whom,” he asked with some restraint, “are you speaking?”
+
+“Hush! Come here; I have longed for it for some time, but have never
+breathed it to a soul,--Louis.”
+
+“Levice had become quite pale, but as she pronounced the familiar name,
+the color returned to his cheek, and a surprised look sprang into his
+eyes.
+
+“Louis? Why do you think of such a thing?”
+
+“Because I think them particularly well suited. Ruth, pardon me,
+dear, has imbibed some very peculiar and high-flown notions. No merely
+commonplace young man would make her happy. A man must have some ideas
+outside of what his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment’s
+interested thought on him. She has repelled some of the most eligible
+advances for no obvious reasons whatever. Now, she does not care a rap
+for society, and goes only because I exact it. That is no condition
+for a young girl to allow herself to sink into; she owes a duty to
+her future. I am telling you this because, of course, you see nothing
+peculiar in such a course. But it is time you were roused; you know
+one look from you is worth a whole sermon from me. As to my thinking of
+Louis, well, in running over my list of eligibles, I found he fulfilled
+every condition,--good-looking, clever, cultivated, well-to-do, and--of
+good family. Why should it not be? They like each other, and see enough
+of each other to learn to love. We, however, must bring it to a head.”
+
+“First provide the hearts, little woman. What can I do, ask Louis or
+Ruth?”
+
+“Jules,” she returned with vexation, “how childish! Don’t you feel well?
+Your cheeks are rather flushed.”
+
+“They are somewhat warm. I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
+ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out.”
+
+Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her,
+her brush idle in her hand. Her father stood silently in the doorway,
+regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart. Jules Levice was a
+keen student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse of
+something in the doctor’s eyes while Ruth sang. He knew it had been
+harmless, for her back had been turned, but he wished to reassure
+himself.
+
+“Not in bed yet, my child?”
+
+She started up in confusion as he came in.
+
+“Of what were you thinking, darling?” he continued, putting his hand
+under her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.
+
+“Well,” she answered slowly, “I was not thinking of anything important;
+I was thinking of you. We are going to Beacham’s next week--and have you
+any fine silk shirts?”
+
+He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.
+
+“Well, no,” he answered; “I leave all such fancies to your care. So we
+go next week. I am glad; and you?”
+
+“I? Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know.”
+
+“Yes. Well, good-night, love.” He took her face between his hands, and
+drawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweet
+solemnity,--
+
+“‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+“‘The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
+
+“‘The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’”
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+It was August. The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until
+the gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the
+quiet autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.
+
+Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to
+continue the management of the household affairs until their return, a
+month later. Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had to
+be put in running order for a month, and she realized with a pang at
+parting with some of her simple, sincere proteges that were this part of
+her life withdrawn, the rest would pall insufferably.
+
+The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the steps
+of the veranda with Louis, who was enjoying a post-prandial smoke.
+Mr. and Mrs. Levice, in the soft golden gloaming of late summer,
+were strolling arm-in-arm among the flower-beds. Mrs. Levice, without
+obviously looking toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth was
+looking well in a plain black gown which she had had no time to change
+after her late shopping. She did not know that, close and isolated
+as the young man and woman stood, not only were they silent, but each
+appeared oblivious of the other’s presence.
+
+Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreaths
+of blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under a
+dream-spell.
+
+As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the broken
+sentence,--
+
+“Jennie--good-by--to-day.”
+
+This roused her from her revery, and she called to her mother,--
+
+“Why, I forgot to drop in at Jennie’s this afternoon, as I promised.”
+
+“How annoying! When you know how sensitive she is and how angry she gets
+at any neglect.”
+
+“I can run out there now. It is light enough.”
+
+“But it will be dark in less than an hour. Louis, will you go out to
+Jennie’s with Ruth?”
+
+“Eh? Oh, certainly, if she wishes me.”
+
+“I wish you to come if you yourself wish it. I’ll run in and get my hat
+and jacket while you decide.”
+
+Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and a
+light gray jacket, which she handed to Louis to hold for her.
+
+“New?” he asked, pulling it into place in the back.
+
+“Yes,” she answered; “do you like it for travelling?”
+
+“Under a duster. Otherwise its delicate complexion will be rather
+freckled when you arrive at Beacham’s.”
+
+He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her
+down to the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward the
+valley. Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them
+saunter off. When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned
+around and sang gayly to Mr. Levice, “‘Ca va bien!’”
+
+The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the west
+and sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color
+and molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green
+to the northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft and
+languorous after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or
+mandolin sounded through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was
+over all.
+
+They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously
+turned into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin. Suddenly Arnold
+felt his companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze from
+the landscape. Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightened
+up. The disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a garden
+fence and bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. Herbert
+Kemp.
+
+As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there would
+be more speaking signs of the doctor’s propinquity. His forecasting was
+not at fault.
+
+Dr. Kemp’s quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, was
+reached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which lounged
+the medical gentleman in person. He was not heaven-gazing, but seemed
+plunged in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him.
+Arnold’s quick eye detected the pink flush that rose to the little ear
+of his cousin. The sound of their footsteps on the stone sidewalk
+came faintly to Kemp; he raised his eyes slowly and indifferently. The
+indifference vanished when he recognized them.
+
+With a hasty movement he threw the cigar from him and ran down the
+steps.
+
+“Good-evening,” he called, raising his old slouch hat and arresting
+their evident intention of proceeding on their way. They came up,
+perforce, and met him at the foot of the steps.
+
+“A beautiful evening,” he said originally, holding out a cordial hand to
+Arnold and looking with happy eyes at Ruth. She noticed that there was a
+marked difference in his appearance from anything she had been used
+to. His figure looked particularly tall and easy in a loose dark velvet
+jacket, thrown open from his broad chest; the large sombrero-like hat
+which had settled on the back of his head left to view his dark hair
+brushed carelessly backward; an unusual color was on his cheek, and a
+warm glow in his gray eyes.
+
+“I hope,” he went on, frankly transferring his attention to Ruth, “this
+weather will continue. We shall have a magnificent autumn; the woods
+must be beginning to look gorgeous.”
+
+“I shall know better to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow?”
+
+“Yes; we leave for Beacham’s to-morrow, you know.”
+
+“No, I did not know;” an indefinable shadow over-clouded his face, but
+he said quickly,--
+
+“That is an old hunting-ground of mine. The river teems with speckled
+treasures. Are you a disciple of old Walton, Mr. Arnold?” he added,
+turning with courtesy to the silent Frenchman.
+
+“You mean fishing? No; life is too short to hang my humor of a whole day
+on the end of a line. I have never been at Beacham’s.”
+
+“It is a fine spot. You will probably go down there this year.”
+
+“My business keeps me tied to the city just at present. A professional
+man has no such bond; his will is his master.”
+
+“Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago. A restful night is an
+unknown indulgence sometimes for weeks.”
+
+His gaze moved from Arnold’s peachy cheek, and falling upon Ruth,
+surprised her dark eyes resting upon him in anxious questioning. He
+smiled.
+
+“We shall have to be moving on,” she said, holding out a gloved hand.
+
+“Will you be gone long?” he asked, pressing it cordially.
+
+“About a month.”
+
+“You will be missed--by the Flynns. Good-by.” He raised his hat as he
+looked at her.
+
+Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off.
+
+They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the English
+language is the use of that highly expressive outlet of emotion, “Damn.”
+ Arnold was an old-timer, but he had not outgrown the charm of his first
+linguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, he
+distinctly though coolly said, “Damn him.”
+
+Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expression
+of his face led her to believe that her ears had deceived her.
+
+A few more blocks were passed, and they stopped at a pretentious,
+many-windowed, Queen Anne house. Ruth ran lightly up the steps, her
+cousin following her leisurely.
+
+She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewis
+herself.
+
+“Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn’t mean to say that he does us
+the honor?”
+
+Mr. Arnold had said nothing of the kind; but he offered no disclaimer,
+and giving her rather a loose hand-shake, walked in.
+
+“Come right into the dining-room,” she continued. “I suppose you were
+surprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting the
+children to bed. They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed their
+father, who wished to be very quiet this evening.”
+
+By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the door
+of which she threw open.
+
+Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping the
+drawing-rooms for company only. This is always presupposing that they
+have no extra sitting-room. After all, a dining-room is not a bad place
+for the family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane for
+a round game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; while
+from an economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms in
+reception stiffness and ceremonious newness.
+
+The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained the
+regulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard.
+
+Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burning
+in a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room.
+
+“I have ‘Yahrzeit’ for my mother,” explained Jo Lewis, glancing toward
+the taper after greeting his visitors. He sat down quietly again.
+
+“Do you always burn the light?” asked Arnold.
+
+“Always. A light once a year to a mother’s memory is not much to ask of
+a son.”
+
+“How long is it since you lost your mother?” questioned Ruth, gently.
+
+Jo Lewis was a man with whom she had little in common. To her he
+seemed to have but one idea,--the amassing of wealth. With her more
+intellectual cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusion
+of all higher aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for her
+footing. Unpolished he certainly was, but the rough, exposed grain of
+his unhewn nature showed many strata of strength and virility. In this
+gentle mood a tenderness had come into view that drew her to him with a
+touch of kinship.
+
+“Thirty years,” he answered musingly,--“thirty years. It is a long time,
+Ruth; but every year when I light the taper it seems as if but yesterday
+I was a boy crying because my mother had gone away forever.” The strong
+man wiped his eyes.
+
+“The little light casts a long ray,” observed Ruth. “Love builds its
+own lighthouse, and by its gleaming we travel back as at a leap to that
+which seemed eternally lost.”
+
+Jo Lewis sighed. Presently the thoughts that so strongly possessed him
+found an outlet.
+
+“There was a woman for you!” he cried with glowing eyes. “Why, Arnold,
+you talk of men being great financiers; I wonder what you would have
+said to the powers my mother showed. We were poor, but poor to a degree
+of which you can know nothing. Well, with a large family of small
+children she struggled on alone and managed to keep us not only alive,
+but clean and respectable. In our village Sara Lewis was a name that
+every man and woman honored as if it belonged to a princess. Jennie is
+a good woman, but life is made easy for her. I often think how grand my
+mother would feel if she were here, and I were able to give her every
+comfort. God knows how proud and happy I would have been to say, ‘You
+have struggled enough, Mother; life is going to be a heaven on earth to
+you now.’ Well, well, what is the good of thinking of it? To-morrow
+I shall go down town and deal with men, not memories; it is more
+profitable.”
+
+“Not always,” said Arnold, dryly. The two men drifted into a business
+discussion that neither Mrs. Lewis nor Ruth cared to follow.
+
+“Are you quite ready?” asked Mrs. Lewis, drawing her chair closer to
+Ruth’s.
+
+“Entirely,” she replied; “we start on the 8.30 train in the morning.”
+
+“You will be gone a month, will you not?”
+
+“Yes; we wish to get back for the holidays. New Year’s falls on the 12th
+of September, and we must give the house its usual holiday cleaning.”
+
+“I have begun already. Somehow I never thought you would mind being
+away.”
+
+“Why, we always go to the Temple, you know; and I would not miss the
+Atonement services for a great deal.”
+
+“Why don’t you say ‘Yom Kippur,’ as everybody else does?”
+
+“Because ‘Atonement’ is English and means something to me. Is there
+anything odd about that?”
+
+“I suppose not. By the way, if there is anything you would like to have
+done while you are away, let me know.”
+
+“I think I have seen to everything. You might run in and see Louis now
+and then.”
+
+“Louis,” Mrs. Lewis called instantly, “be sure to come in often for
+dinner while the folks are gone.”
+
+“Thank you; I shall. The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enough
+to do away with any verbal invitation to another.”
+
+He arose, seeing Ruth had risen and was kissing her cousins good-by.
+
+Mrs. Lewis beamed with pleasure at his words.
+
+“Now, won’t you take something before you go?” she asked. “Ruth, I have
+the loveliest cakes.”
+
+“Oh, Jennie,” remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, “we have
+just dined.”
+
+“Let her enjoy herself,” observed Louis; “she is never so happy as when
+she is feeding somebody.”
+
+The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis’s rosy face appeared
+behind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-looking
+little cakes.
+
+“Jo, get the Kirsch. You must try one, Ruth; I made them myself.”
+
+When they had complimented her on her cakes and Louis had drunk to his
+next undertaking, suggested by Jo Lewis, the visitors departed.
+
+They had been walking in almost total silence for a number of blocks,
+when Ruth turned suddenly to him and said with great earnestness,--
+
+“Louis, what is the matter with you? For the last few days you have
+hardly spoken to me. Have I done anything to annoy you?”
+
+“You? Why, no, not that I remember.”
+
+“Then, please, before we go off, be friendly with me again.”
+
+“I am afraid I am not of a very hilarious temperament.”
+
+“Still, you manage to talk to others.”
+
+“Have you cared very much who talked to you lately?”
+
+Her cheek changed color in the starlight.
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked.
+
+“Anything or nothing.”
+
+Ruth looked at him haughtily.
+
+“If nothing,” he continued, observing her askance from lowered lids,
+“what I am about to say will be harmless. If anything, I still hope you
+will find it pardonable.”
+
+“What are you about to say?”
+
+“It won’t take long. Will you be my wife?”
+
+And the stars still shone up in heaven!
+
+Her face turned white as a Niphetos rose.
+
+“Louis,” she said finally and speaking with difficulty, “why do you ask
+me this?”
+
+“Why does any man ask a woman to be his wife?”
+
+“Generally because he loves her.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+If he had spoken outright, she might have answered him; but the simple
+monosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her like
+a wall, before which she stood silent.
+
+“Answer me, Ruth.”
+
+“If you mean it, Louis, I am very, very sorry.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because I can never be your wife.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I do not love you--like that.”
+
+Silence for half a block, the man’s lips pressed hard together under
+his mustache, the girl’s heart beating suffocatingly. When he spoke, his
+voice sounded oddly clear in the hushed night air.
+
+“What do you mean by ‘like that’?”
+
+Her little hand was clinched tight as it lay on his arm. The perfect
+silence that followed the words of each made every movement significant.
+
+“You know,--as a woman loves the man she would marry, not as she loves a
+brotherly cousin.”
+
+“The difference is not clear to me--but--how did you learn the
+difference?”
+
+“How dare you?” she cried, flashing a pair of dark, wet eyes upon him.
+
+“In such a case, ‘I dare do all that may become a man.’ Besides, even
+if there is a difference, I still ask you to be my wife. You would not
+regret it, Ruth, I think.”
+
+His voice was not soft, but there was a certain strained pleading about
+it that pained her inexpressibly.
+
+“Louis,” she said, with slow distinctness, her hand moving down until
+it touched his, “I never thought of this as a possibility. You know how
+much I have always loved you, dear; but oh, Louis, will it hurt you very
+much, will you forgive me if I have to say no, I cannot be your wife?”
+
+“Wait. I wish you to consider this well. I am offering you all that I
+have in the world; it is not despicable. Your family, I know, would be
+pleased. Besides, it would be well for you--God knows, not because I am
+what I am, but for other reasons. Wait. I beg of you not to answer me
+till you have thought it over. You know me; I am no saint, but a man who
+would give his life for you. I ask of you nothing but the right to guard
+yours. Do not answer me now.”
+
+They had turned the corner of their block.
+
+“I need no time,” said Ruth, with a sad sob in her voice; “I cannot
+marry you, Louis. My answer would be the same to-morrow or at the end of
+all time,--I can never, never be your wife.”
+
+“It is then as I feared,--anything.”
+
+The girl’s bowed head was the only answer to his bitter words.
+
+“Well,” he said, with a hard laugh, “that ends it, then. Don’t let it
+bother you. Your answer has put it entirely from my mind. I should be
+pleased if you would forget it as readily as I shall. I hardly think
+we shall meet in the morning. I am going down to the club now. Good-by;
+enjoy yourself.”
+
+He held out his hand carelessly; Ruth carried it in both hers to her
+lips. Being at the gate, he lifted his hat with a smile and walked away.
+Ruth did not smile; neither did Arnold when he had turned from her.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+Beacham’s lies in a dimple of the inner coast range, and is reached
+nowadays through one of the finest pieces of engineering skill in the
+State. The tortuous route through the mountains, over trestle-bridges
+that span what seem, from the car-windows, like bottomless chasms,
+needs must hold some compensation at the end to counterbalance the fears
+engendered on the way. The higher one goes the more beautiful becomes
+the scenery among the wild, marvellous redwoods that stand like mammoth
+guides pointing heavenward; and Beacham’s realizes expectation.
+
+It is a quiet little place, with its one hotel and two attached
+cottages, its old, disused saw-mill, its tiny schoolhouse beyond the
+fairy-like woods, its one general merchandise store, where cheese
+and calico, hats and hoes, ham and hominy, are forthcoming upon
+solicitation. It is by no means a fashionable resort; the Levices had
+searched for something as unlike the Del Monte and Coronado as milk is
+unlike champagne. They were looking for a pretty, healthful spot, with
+good accommodations and few social attractions, and Beacham’s offered
+this.
+
+They were not disappointed. Ruth’s anticipation was fulfilled when she
+saw the river. Russian River is about as pretty a stream as one can view
+upon a summer’s day. Here at Beacham’s it is very narrow and shallow,
+with low, shelving beaches on either bank; but in the tiny row-boat
+which she immediately secured, Ruth pushed her way into enchantment. The
+river winds in and out through exquisite coves entangled in a wilderness
+of brambles and lace-like ferns that are almost transparent as they
+bend and dip toward the silvery waters; while, climbing over the rocky
+cliffs, run bracken and the fragrant yerba-buena, till, on high, they
+creep as if in awe about the great redwoods and pines of the forest.
+
+Morning and night Ruth, in her little boat, wooed the lisping waters.
+Often of a morning her mother was her companion; later on, her father or
+little Ethel Tyrrell; in the evening one of the Tyrrell boys, generally
+Will, was her gallant chevalier. But it was always Ruth who rowed,--Ruth
+in her pretty sailor blouses, with her strong round arms and steadily
+browning hands; Ruth, whose creamy face and neck remained provokingly
+unreddened, and took on only a little deeper tint, as if a dash
+of bistre had been softly applied. It was pleasant enough rowing
+down-stream with Ruth; she always knew when to sing “Nancy Lee,” and
+when “White Wings” sounded prettiest. There were numerous coves
+too, where she loved to beach her boat,--here to fill a flask with
+honey-sweet water from a rollicking little spring that came merrily
+dashing over the rocks, here to gather some delicate ferns or
+maiden-hair with which to decorate the table, or the trailing
+yerba-buena for festooning the boat. But Ethel Tyrrell, aged three,
+thought they had the “dolliest” time when she and Ruth, having rowed a
+space out of sight, jumped out, and taking off their shoes and stockings
+and making other necessary preliminaries to wading, pattered along
+over the pebbly bottom, screaming when a sharp stone came against their
+tender feet, and laughing gleefully when the water rose a little higher
+than they had bargained for; then, when quite tired, they would retire
+to the beach or the boat and dry themselves with the soft damask of the
+sun.
+
+Ruth was happy. There were moments when the remembrance of her
+last meeting with Louis came like a summer cloud over the ineffable
+brightness of her sky, and she felt a sharp pang at her heart; still,
+she thought, it was different with Louis. His feeling for her could not
+be so strong as to make him suffer poignantly over her refusal. She
+was almost convinced that he had asked her more from a whim of
+good-fellowship, a sudden desire, perhaps a preference for her close
+companionship when he did marry, than from any deeper emotion. In
+consequence of these reflections her musings were not so sad as they
+might otherwise have been.
+
+Her parents laughed to see how she revelled in the freedom of the
+old-fashioned little spot, which, though on the river, was decidedly
+“out of the swim.” It was late in the season, and there were few guests
+at the hotel. The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other being
+used by a pair of belated turtle-doves,--the wife a blushing dot of a
+woman, the husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walks
+like a devoted weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptive
+cough, a natty little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and the
+golden-haired Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell could
+not enjoy his hard-earned rest without one and all. They were such a
+refined, happy, sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, that
+the Levices were attracted to them at once. To be with Mrs. Tyrrell
+one whole day, Mrs. Levice said was a liberal education,--so bright, so
+uncomplaining, so ambitious for her children was she, and such a help
+and inspiration to her hard-worked husband. Mr. Levice tramped about
+the woods with Tyrrell and brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moral
+bravery of a man who struggled on with a happy face and small hope for
+any earthly rest. But the children!--Floy with her dreamy face and busy
+sketch-book, Will with his halo of golden hair, his manly figure and
+broad, open ambitions, Boss with his busy step and fishing-tackle, and
+baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran after Ruth the first time she saw
+her and begged her to come and play with her; ever since, she formed
+a part of the drapery of Ruth’s skirt or a rather cumbersome necklace
+about her neck. Every girl who has been debarred the blessing of babies
+in the house loves them promiscuously and passionately. Ruth was no
+exception; it amused the ladies to watch her cuddle the child and wonder
+aloud at all her baby-talk.
+
+Will was her next favorite satellite. A young girl with a winsome,
+sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of
+a fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
+saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.
+
+The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems so
+near, are just the time for such talk.
+
+They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamy
+gown and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hat
+in his hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he loved
+to do.
+
+“What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?” asked the
+boy suddenly.
+
+“Well, law is one--” she began.
+
+“That’s the way Papa begins,” he interrupted impatiently; “but I’ll tell
+you what I think is the greatest. Guess, now.”
+
+“The ministry?” she ventured.
+
+“Oh, of course; but I’m not good enough for that,--that takes
+exceptions. Guess again.”
+
+“Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery,--that is it. You would be a
+brave soldier, Willikins, my man.”
+
+“No, sir,” he replied, flinging back his head; “I don’t want to take
+lives; I want to save them.”
+
+“You mean a physician, Will?”
+
+“That’s it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon. Don’t you think that
+takes bravery? And it’s a long sight better than being a soldier; he
+draws blood to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?”
+
+“Indeed, you are right,” she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
+beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to
+descent the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came
+suddenly upon them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth
+gaping wide.
+
+When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.
+
+“Why, Ben!” she exclaimed.
+
+The man’s mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.
+
+“Begging your pardon, Miss,--I mean Her pardon,--the Lord forgive me, I
+took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the shining hair.
+Now, don’t be telling of me, will you?”
+
+“Indeed, we won’t; we’ll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves. Have
+you the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me.”
+
+Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It was
+still light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened
+them.
+
+“This,” she announced in a matter-of-course way, “is from Miss Dorothy
+Gwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea next
+Saturday. That, or the hay-ride, Will? And this--this--”
+
+It was a simple envelope addressed to
+
+                Miss RUTH LEVICE--
+                   Beacham’s--
+                 ... County--
+                         Cal.
+
+It was the sight of the dashes that caused the hiatus in her sentence,
+and made her heart give one great rushing bound. The enclosure was to
+the point.
+
+
+SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 18, 188--.
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,--That you may not denounce me as too presumptuous, I
+shall at once explain that I am writing this at Bob’s urgent desire. He
+has at length got the position at the florist’s, and tells me to tell
+you that he is now happy. I dropped in there last night; and when he
+gave me this message, I told him that I feared you would take it as an
+advertisement. He merely smiled, picked up a Marechal Niel that lay on
+the counter, and said, “Drop this in. It’s my mark; she’ll understand.”
+ So here are Bob’s rose and my apology.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+She was pale when she turned round to the courteously waiting boy. It
+was a very cold note, and she put it in her pocket to keep it warm. The
+rose she showed to Will, and told him the story of the sender.
+
+“Didn’t I tell you,” he cried, when she had finished, “a doctor has the
+greatest opportunity in the world to be great--and a surgeon comes near
+it? I say, Miss Ruth, your Dr. Kemp must be a brick. Isn’t he?”
+
+“Boys would call him so,” she answered, shivering slightly.
+
+It was so like him, she thought, to fulfil Bob’s request in his hearty,
+friendly way; she supposed he wanted her to understand that he wrote to
+her only as Bob’s amanuensis,--it was plain enough. And yet, and
+yet, she thought passionately, it would have been no more than common
+etiquette to send a friendly word from himself to her mother. Still the
+note was not thrown away. Girls are so irrational; if they cannot have
+the hand-shake, they will content themselves with a sight of the glove.
+
+And Ruth in the warm, throbbing, summer days was happy. She was not
+always active; there were long afternoons when mere existence was
+intensely beautiful. To lie at full length upon the soft turf in the
+depths of the small enchanted woods, and hear and feel the countless
+spells of Nature, was unspeakable rapture.
+
+“Ah, Floy,” she cried one afternoon, as she lay with her face turned up
+to the great green boughs that seemed pencilled against the azure sky,
+“if one could paint what one feels! Look at these silent, living trees
+that stand in all their grandeur under some mighty spell; see how the
+wonderful heaven steals through the leaves and throws its blue softness
+upon the twilight gloom; here at our feet nestle the soft, green ferns,
+and over all is the indescribable fragrance of the redwoods. Turn there,
+to your right, little artist, high up on that mountain; can you see
+through the shimmering haze a great team moving as if through the air?
+It is like the vision of the Bethshemites in Dore’s mystic work, when in
+the valley they lifted up their eyes and beheld the ark returning. Oh,
+Floy, it is not Nature; it is God. And who can paint God?”
+
+“No one. If one could paint Him, He would no longer be great,” answered
+the girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth’s enraptured countenance.
+
+One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairy
+spot. It was very warm and still. Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleep
+in the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to the
+Tyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices’ veranda. All Nature
+was drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered on
+as was her wont.
+
+“Me and you’s yunnin’ away,” she chatted; “we’s goin’ to a fowest, and
+by and by two ‘ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves. My! Won’t my
+mamma be sorry? No darlin’ ‘ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more. Poor
+Mamma!”
+
+“Does Ethel think Mamma likes to spank her?”
+
+“Yes; Mamma does des what she likes.”
+
+“But it is only when Ethel is naughty that Mamma spanks her. Here,
+sweetheart, let me tie your sunbonnet tighter. Now Ruth is going to lie
+here and read, and you can play hide-and-seek all about these trees.”
+
+“Can I go wound and sit on dat log by a bwook?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Oh, I’s afwaid. I’s dweffully afwaid.”
+
+“Why, you can turn round and talk to me all the time.”
+
+“But nobody’ll be sitting by me at all.”
+
+“I am here just where you can see me; besides, God will be right next to
+you.”
+
+“Will He? Ven all yight.”
+
+Ruth took off her hat and prepared to enjoy herself. As her head touched
+the green earth, she saw the little maiden seat herself on the log, and
+turning her face sideways, say in her pleasant, piping voice,--
+
+“How-de-do, Dod?” And having made her acknowledgments, all her fears
+vanished.
+
+Ruth laughed softly to herself, and straightway began to read. The
+afternoon burned itself away. Ethel played and sang and danced about
+her, quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herself
+into Ruth’s arms.
+
+“Sing by-low now,” she demanded sleepily; “pay it’s night, and you and
+me’s in a yockin’-chair goin’ to by-low land.”
+
+Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head to
+her bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, golden
+locks.
+
+“What shall I sing, darling?” she mused: she was unused to singing
+babies to sleep. Suddenly a little kindergarten melody she had heard
+came to her, and she sang softly in her rich, tender contralto the
+swinging cradle-song:--
+
+                “In a cradle, on the treetop,
+                        Sleeps a tiny bird;
+                Sweeter sound than mother’s chirping
+                        Never yet was heard.
+                See, the green leaves spread like curtains
+                        Round the tiny bed,
+                While the mother’s wings, outstretching,
+                        Shield--the--tiny--head?”
+
+As her voice died slowly into silence, she found Ethel looking over her
+shoulder and nodding her head.
+
+“No; I won’t tell,” she said loudly.
+
+“Tell what?” asked Ruth, amused.
+
+“Hush! He put his finger on his mouf--sh!”
+
+“Who?” asked Ruth, turning her head hurriedly. Not being able to see
+through the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child.
+Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp,--Dr. Kemp in
+loose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of his
+head was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned,--a wave
+of color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth,--a woman’s
+face dare not speak sometimes.
+
+“Did I startle you?” he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the
+golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
+
+“Yes,” she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into
+silence.
+
+She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down
+till she stood at her side.
+
+“I interrupted you,” he continued; “will you shake hands with me,
+nevertheless?”
+
+She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and
+then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that
+moment she had time to compose herself.
+
+“Do you often come up this way?” she questioned.
+
+He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm
+against the tree, answered,--
+
+“Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days,
+and generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my
+select spots. I knew you would ferret it out.”
+
+“It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is
+growing old. Come, Ethel.”
+
+A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him.
+Why should she hurry off at his coming?
+
+“I am sorry my presence disturbs you,” he said quietly; “But I can
+easily go away again.”
+
+“Was I so rude?” she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. “I did not
+mean it so; but Ethel’s mother will want her now.”
+
+“Ethel wants to be carried,” begged the child.
+
+“All right; Ruth will carry you,” and she stooped to raise her; but as
+she did so, Kemp’s strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
+
+“Ethel will ride home on my shoulder,” he said in the gay, winning voice
+he knew how so well to use with children. The baby’s blue eyes smiled in
+response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There
+is nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little
+child reposes in a strong man.
+
+So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
+
+
+
+Chapter XV
+
+Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching.
+For a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire.
+When he did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude,
+took possession of him. He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth’s
+birthnight by a vague something in Kemp’s eyes. The feeling, however,
+had vanished gradually in the knowledge that the doctor always had
+a peculiarly intent gaze, and, moreover, no one could have helped
+appreciating her loveliness that night. This, of itself, will bring
+a softness into a man’s manner; and without doubt his fears had been
+groundless,--fears that he had not dared to put into words. For old man
+as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp’s strong personality was such as
+would prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom he cared to honor
+with his favor; but with a “Get thee behind me, Satan” desire, he
+had put the question from him. He could have taken his oath on Ruth’s
+heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his misgivings
+returned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was at his ease as
+they came up.
+
+“This is a surprise, Doctor,” he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate
+and extending his hand. “Who would have thought of meeting you here?”
+
+Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
+
+“I am a sort of surprise-party,” he answered, swinging Ethel to the
+ground and watching her scamper off to the hotel; “and what is more,” he
+continued, turning to him, “I have not brought a hamper, which makes one
+of me.”
+
+“You calculate without your host,” responded Levice; “this is a
+veritable land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wife
+rhapsodize.”
+
+“How is she?” he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of
+Ruth’s vanishing figure.
+
+“Feeling quite well,” replied Levice; “she is all impatience now for a
+delirious winter season.”
+
+“I thought so,” laughed the doctor; “but if you take my advice, you will
+draw the bit slightly.”
+
+Mrs. Levice was delighted to see him; she said it was like the sight of
+a cable-car in a desert. He protested at such a stupendous comparison,
+and insisted that she make clear that the dummy was not included. The
+short afternoon glided into evening, and Dr. Kemp went over to the hotel
+and dined at the Levices’ table.
+
+Ruth, in a white wool gown, sat opposite him. It was the first time
+he had dined with them; and he enjoyed a singular feeling over the
+situation. He noticed that although Mrs. Levice kept up an almost
+incessant flow of talk, she ate a hearty meal, and that Ruth, who was
+unusually quiet, tasted scarcely anything. Her father also observed it,
+and resolved upon a course of strict surveillance. He was glad to hear
+that the doctor had to leave on the early morning’s train, though, of
+course, he did not say so. As they strolled about afterward, he managed
+to keep his daughter with him and allowed Kemp to appropriate his wife.
+
+They finally drifted to the cottage-steps, and were enjoying the beauty
+of the night when Will Tyrrell presented himself before them.
+
+“Good-evening,” he said, taking off his hat as he stood at the foot of
+the steps. “Mr. Levice, Father says he has at last scared up two other
+gentlemen; and will you please come over and play a rubber of whist?”
+
+Mr. Levice felt himself a victim of circumstances. He and Mr. Tyrrell
+had been looking for a couple of opponents, and had almost given up the
+search. Now, when he decidedly objected to moving, it would have been
+heartless not to go.
+
+“Don’t consider me,” said the doctor, observing his hesitancy. “If it
+ill relieve you, I assure you I shall not miss you in the least.”
+
+“Go right ahead, Jules” urged his wife; “Ruth and I will take care of
+the doctor.”
+
+If she had promised to take care of Ruth, it would have been more to
+his mind; but since his wife was there, what harm could accrue that his
+presence would prevent? So with a sincere apology he went over to the
+hotel.
+
+He hardly appreciated what an admirable aide he had left behind him in
+his wife.
+
+Kemp sat upon the top step, and leaned his back against the railing;
+although outwardly he kept up a constant low run of conversation with
+Mrs. Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intently
+conscious of Ruth’s white figure perched on the window-sill.
+
+How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but she
+was rather startled when she perceived that Kemp was addressing her.
+
+“I should like to show my prowess to you, Miss Levice.”
+
+“In what?” she asked, somewhat dazed.
+
+“Ruth, Ruth,” laughed her mother, “do you mean to say you have not heard
+a word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?”
+
+“And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered a
+fine oar at my Alma Mater.”
+
+“And I hazarded the suggestion,” added Mrs. Levice, “that as it is such
+a beautiful night, there is nothing to prevent your taking a little row,
+and then each can judge of the other’s claim to superiority?”
+
+“My claim has never been justly established,” said Ruth. “I have never
+allowed any one to usurp my oars.”
+
+“As yet,” corrected Kemp. “Then will you wrap something about you and
+come down to the river?”
+
+“Certainly she will,” answered her mother; “run in and get some wraps,
+Ruth.”
+
+“You will come too, Mamma?”
+
+“Of course; but considering Dr. Kemp’s length, a third in your little
+boat will be the proverbial trumpery. Still, I suppose I can rely on you
+two crack oarsmen, though you know the slightest tremble in the boat in
+the fairest weather is likely to create a squall on my part.”
+
+If Dr. Kemp wished to row, he should row; and since the Jewish Mrs.
+Grundy was not on hand, anything harmlessly enjoyable was permissible.
+
+Ruth went indoors. This was certainly something she had not bargained
+for. How could her mother be so blind as not to know or feel her desire
+to evade Dr. Kemp? She felt a positive contempt for herself that his
+presence should affect her as it did; she dared not look at him lest her
+heart should flutter to her eyes. Probably the display amused him. What
+was she to him anyway but a girl with whom he could flirt in his
+idle moments? Well (with a passionate fling of her arms), she would
+extinguish her uncontrollable little beater for the nonce; she would
+meet and answer every one of his long glances in kind.
+
+She wound a black lace shawl around her head, and with some wraps for
+her mother, came out.
+
+“Hadn’t you better put something over your shoulders?” he asked
+deferentially as she appeared.
+
+“And disgust the night with lack of appreciation?”
+
+She turned to a corner of the porch and lifted a pair of oars to her
+shoulder.
+
+“Why,” he said in surprise, coming toward her, “you keep your oars at
+home?”
+
+“On the principle of ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be;’ we find it
+saves both time and spleen.”
+
+She held them lightly in place on her shoulder.
+
+“Allow me,” he said, placing his hand upon the oars.
+
+A spirit of contradiction took possession of her.
+
+“Indeed, no,” she answered; “why should I? They are not at all heavy.”
+
+He gently lifted her resisting fingers one by one and raised the broad
+bone of contention to his shoulder. Then without a look he turned and
+offered his arm to Mrs. Levice.
+
+The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashed
+before them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty of
+the bewildering heavens. As they approached the river, the faint susurra
+came to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing in
+the distance.
+
+“Others are enjoying themselves also,” he remarked as their feet touched
+the pebbly beach. A faint crescent moon shone over the water. Ruth went
+straight to the little boat aground on the shore.
+
+“It looks like a cockle-shell,” he said, as he put one foot in after
+shoving it off. “Will you sit in the stern or the bow, Mrs. Levice?”
+
+“In the bow; I dislike to see dangers before we come to them.”
+
+He helped her carefully to her place; she thanked him laughingly for his
+exceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth.
+
+“I was waiting for you to move from my place,” she said in defiant
+mischief, standing motionless beside the boat.
+
+“Your place? Ah, yes; now,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “will
+you step in?”
+
+She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as the
+little bark swayed he made a movement to catch hold of her.
+
+“You had better sit down,” he said, motioning to the rower’s seat.
+
+“And you?” she asked.
+
+“I shall sit beside you and use the other oar,” he answered
+nonchalantly, smiling down at her.
+
+With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the
+stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.
+
+“You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice,” he
+said pleasantly.
+
+“That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not
+very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored
+if I wax too discursive.”
+
+It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp’s knees were not half a foot
+from Ruth’s white gown.
+
+“Will you direct me?” he said, as he swept around. “I have not rowed on
+this river for two or three years.”
+
+“You can keep straight ahead for some distance,” she said, leaning back
+in her seat.
+
+She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowed
+lightly down the river. His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed his
+strong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, and
+his dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with grave
+sweetness. She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from the
+short range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded her
+good vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze.
+
+Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdo
+the night in brilliancy. For a while Kemp maintained a sort of
+Roland-for-an-Oliver conversation with her; but with his eyes
+continually straying to the girl before him, it became rather
+difficult. Some merry rowers down the river were singing college songs
+harmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum with them, her voice
+gradually subsiding into a faint murmur. The balmy, summer-freighted
+air made her feel drowsy. She listened absently to Ruth’s occasional
+warnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars.
+
+“Now we have clear sailing for a stretch,” said Ruth, as they came to a
+broad curve. “Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shot
+over that snag, Mamma?”
+
+She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp.
+
+“Mamma!”
+
+Then she straightened herself back in her seat. Kemp, noting the sudden
+flush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look at
+Mrs. Levice. Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes were
+closed, in the manner of more wary chaperones,--Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.
+
+Far across the river a woman’s silvery voice was singing the sweet old
+love-song, “Juanita;” overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low from
+the floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender
+night, and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy
+part of it. Against the black lace about her head her face shone like
+a cameo, her eyes were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to
+breathe, so still she sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.
+
+Dr. Kemp sat opposite her--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched
+the water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks,--they were
+unconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
+tender woman’s voice across the water stole to them, singing of love;
+their eyes met--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again
+rocking in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man’s deep,
+grave eyes held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his
+worshipping eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.
+
+“Doctor,” called a startled voice, “row out; I am right under the
+trees.”
+
+They both started. Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake. They had
+drifted into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs.
+
+“I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?” she
+complained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh. “Did not
+you see where we were going?”
+
+“No,” she answered a little breathlessly; “I believe I am growing
+far-sighted.”
+
+“It must be time to sight home now,” said her mother; “I am quite
+chilly.”
+
+In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
+When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started
+up the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of
+the boat.
+
+“Wait for us, Ruth,” called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure
+stood still till they came up.
+
+“You are so slow,” she said with a reckless little laugh; “I feel as if
+I could fly home.”
+
+“Are you light-headed, Ruth?” asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
+behind them. She could not yet meet his eyes again.
+
+“Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us.” Mrs. Levice,
+awake, was an exemplary duenna.
+
+“There is nothing abroad here but the stars,” she answered, flitting
+before them.
+
+“And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night,” remarked Kemp,
+softly.
+
+She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood inside of it
+as they drew near.
+
+“Then you will not be home till Monday,” he said, taking Mrs. Levice’s
+hand and raising his hat; “and I am off on the early morning train.
+Good-by.”
+
+As she turned in at the gate, he held out his hand to Ruth. His fingers
+closed softly, tightly over hers; she heard him say almost inaudibly,--
+
+“Till Monday.”
+
+She raised her shy eyes for one brief second to his glowing ones; and he
+passed, a tall, dark figure, down the shadowy road.
+
+When Mr. Levice returned from his game of whist, he quietly opened the
+door of his daughter’s bedroom and looked in. All was well; the wolf had
+departed, and his lamb slept safe in the fold.
+
+But in the dark his lamb’s eyes were mysteriously bright. Sleep! With
+this new crown upon her! Humble as the beautiful beggar-maid must have
+felt when the king raised her, she wondered why she had been thus
+chosen by one whom she had deemed so immeasurably above her. And this
+is another phase of woman’s love,--that it exalts the beloved beyond all
+reasoning.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI
+
+At six o’clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greens
+were gently warming under the sun’s first rays. At seven the early train
+that Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave. Ruth, with this knowledge
+at heart, had softly risen and left the cottage. Close behind the depot
+rose a wooded hill. She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; and
+what was to prevent her doing so now? It afforded an excellent view of
+the station.
+
+It was very little past six, and she began leisurely to ascend the hill.
+The sweet morning air was in her nostrils, and she pushed the broad
+hat form her happy eyes. She paused a moment, looking up at the wooded
+hill-top, which the sun was jewelling in silver.
+
+“Do you see something beautiful up there?”
+
+With an inarticulate cry she wheeled around and faced Dr. Kemp within a
+hand’s breadth of her.
+
+“Oh,” she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, “I did not mean--I
+did not expect--”
+
+“Nor did I,” he said in a low voice; “chance is kinder to us than
+ourselves--beloved.”
+
+She turned quite white at the low, intense word.
+
+“You understood me last night--and I was not--deceived?”
+
+Her head drooped lower till the broad brim of her hat hid her face.
+
+With one quick step he reached her side.
+
+“Ruth, look at me.”
+
+She never had been able to resist his compelling voice; and now with a
+swift-drawn breath she threw back her head and looked up at him fairly,
+with all her soul in her eyes.
+
+“Are you satisfied?” she asked tremulously.
+
+“Not yet,” he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.
+
+“My Santa Filomena,” he murmured with his lips against her hair, “this
+is worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long.”
+
+In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared
+meet his eyes when he finally held her from him.
+
+“Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I,
+dear; you can trust me, I think.”
+
+“I know,” she said, her hand fluttering in his; “but isn’t--the train
+coming?”
+
+“Are you so anxious to have me go?”
+
+Her hand closed tightly around his.
+
+“Because,” laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, “I have
+something to ask you.”
+
+“To ask me?”
+
+“Yes; are you surprised, can’t you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still
+further? Will you be my wife, love?”
+
+A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
+tenderness. “If you really want me,” she replied, with a sobbing laugh.
+
+“Soon?” he persisted.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because you must. You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth.”
+
+“I am not afraid of you, sir.”
+
+“Then you should be. Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five;
+did you remember that when you made me king among men?”
+
+“Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two.”
+
+“As ancient as that? Then you should be able to answer me. Make it soon,
+sweetheart.”
+
+“Why, how you beg--for a king. Besides, there is Father, you know; he
+decides everything for me.”
+
+“I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaiting
+him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last
+night, and--Ah, the whistle! What day is this, Ruth?”
+
+“Friday.”
+
+“Good Friday, sweet, I think.”
+
+“Oh, I am not at all superstitious.”
+
+“And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
+Monday will be four days rolled into one.”
+
+“Remember,” he continued hurriedly, “you are doubly precious now,
+darling, and take good care of yourself till our ‘Auf Wiedersehn.’”
+
+“And--and--you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?”
+
+“Who? There is no doctor here that I know of.”
+
+“But I know one--Herbert.”
+
+“God bless you for that, dear!” he answered gravely.
+
+Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the
+out-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kemp
+where he belonged,--to his busy practice,--and leaving his child’s peace
+undisturbed. Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed him
+to drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite and
+happy talk? No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shown
+in her; but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resort
+to flirtation, and anything deeper was out of the question. He must
+certainly have a little plain talk with the child this morning, and,
+well, he could cry “Ebenezer!” on his departure. With this conclusion,
+he softly rose, taking care not to disturb his placidly sleeping wife,
+who never dreamed of waking till nine.
+
+Ruth generally waited for him for breakfast, but not seeing her around,
+he went in and took a solitary meal. Sauntering out afterward toward the
+hotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting a
+cigar, he was met at the door of the billiard-room by one of the clerks.
+
+“Dr. Kemp left this for you this morning,” said he, holding out a small
+envelope. A flush rose to the old gentleman’s sallow cheek as he took
+it.
+
+“Thank you,” he said; “I believe I shall come in here for a few
+minutes.”
+
+He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chair
+near the window. He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightly
+nervous manner, and adjusted them hastily. The missive was addressed to
+him, certainly; and with no little wonder he tore it open and read:--
+
+
+BEACHAM’S Friday morning.
+
+MR. LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR SIR,--Pardon the hurried nature of this communication, but I
+must leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operation
+to undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare you
+more fully, but time presses. Simply, then, I love your daughter. I told
+her so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest and
+happiest of men by returning my love. I am well aware what I am asking
+of you when I ask her of you to be my wife. You know me personally; you
+know my financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings with
+mercy in the knowledge of our great love. Till Monday night, then, I
+leave her and my happiness to your consideration and love.
+
+
+With the greatest respect,
+
+Yours Sincerely,
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+
+“My God!”
+
+The clerk standing near him in the doorway turned hurriedly.
+
+“Any trouble?” he asked, moving toward him and noticing the ashy pallor
+of his face.
+
+The old man’s hand closed spasmodically over the paper.
+
+“Nothing,” he managed to answer, waving the man away; “don’t notice me.”
+
+The clerk, seeing his presence was undesirable, took up his position in
+the doorway again.
+
+Levice sat on. No further sound broke from him; he had clinched his
+teeth hard. It had come to this, then. She loved him; it was too late.
+If the man’s heart alone were concerned, it would have been an easy
+matter; but hers, Ruth’s. God! If she really loved, her father knew
+only too well how she would love. Was the man crazy? Had he entirely
+forgotten the gulf that lay between them? Great drops of perspiration
+rose to his forehead. Two ideas held him in a desperate struggle,--his
+child’s happiness; the prejudice of a lifetime. Something conquered
+finally, and he arose quietly and walked slowly off.
+
+Through the trees he heard laughter. He walked round and saw her
+swinging Will Tyrrell.
+
+“There’s your father,” cried Boss, from the limb of a tree.
+
+She looked up, startled. With a newborn shyness she had endeavored to
+put off this meeting with her father. She gave the swing another push
+and waited his approach with beating heart.
+
+“The boys will excuse you, Ruth, I think; I wish you to come for a short
+walk with me.”
+
+At his voice, the gentle seriousness of which penetrated even to the
+Tyrrell boys’ understanding, she felt that her secret was known.
+
+She laid her arm about his neck and gave him his usual morning kiss,
+reddening slowly under his long searching look as he held her to him.
+She followed him almost blindly as he turned from the grounds and struck
+into the lane leading to the woods. Mr. Levice walked along, aimlessly
+knocking off with his stick the dandelions and camomile in the hedges.
+It was with a wrench he spoke.
+
+“My child,” he said, and now the stick acted as a support, “I was just
+handed a note from Dr. Kemp. He has asked me for your hand.”
+
+In the pause that followed Ruth’s lovely face was hidden in her hat.
+
+“He also told me that he loves you,” he continued slowly, “and that you
+return his love. Will you turn your face to me, Ruth?”
+
+She did so with dignity.
+
+“You love this man?”
+
+“I do.” As reverently as if at the altar, she faced and answered her
+father. All her love was in the eyes she raised to his. Beneath their
+happy glow Levice’s sank and his steady lips grew pale.
+
+They were away from mankind in the shelter of the woods, the birds gayly
+carolling their matins above them.
+
+“And you desire to become his wife?”
+
+Neck, face, and ears were suffused with color as she faltered
+unsteadily,--
+
+“Oh, Father, he loves me.” Then at the wonder of it, she exclaimed,
+throwing her arms about his neck impulsively and hiding her face in his
+shoulder, “I am so happy, so happy! It seems almost too beautiful to be
+true.”
+
+The old man’s trembling hand smoothed the soft little tendrils of hair
+that had escaped from their pins. He stifled a groan as he was thus
+disarmed.
+
+“And what,” she asked, her sweet eyes holding his as she stepped back,
+“what do you think of Herbert Kemp, M. D.? Will you be proud of your
+son-in-law, Father darling?”
+
+Levice’s hand fell suddenly on her shoulder. He schooled himself to
+smile quietly upon her.
+
+“Dr. Kemp is a great friend of mine. He is a gentleman whom all the
+world honors, not only for his professional worth, but for his manly
+qualities. I am not surprised that you love him, nor yet that he loves
+you--except for one thing.”
+
+“And that?” she asked, smiling confidently at him.
+
+“Child, you are a Jewess; Dr. Kemp is a Christian.”
+
+And still his daughter smiled trustingly.
+
+“What difference can that make, since we love each other?” she asked.
+
+“Will you believe me, Ruth, when I say that all I desire is your
+happiness?”
+
+“Father, I know it.”
+
+“Then I tell you I can never bring myself to approve of a marriage
+between you and a Christian. There can be no true happiness in such a
+union.”
+
+“Why not? Inasmuch as all my life you have taught me to look upon
+my Christian friends as upon my Jewish, and since you admit him
+irreproachable from every standpoint, why can he not be my husband?”
+
+“Have you ever thought of what such a marriage entails?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“Then do so now: think of every sacrifice, social and religious, it
+enforces; think of the great difference between the Jewish race and
+the Christians; and if, after you have measured with the deadliest
+earnestness every duty that married life brings, you can still believe
+that you will be happy, then marry him.”
+
+“With your blessing?” Her lovely, pleading eyes still held his.
+
+“Always with my blessing, child. One thing more: did Dr. Kemp mention
+anything of this to you?”
+
+“No; he must have forgotten it as I did, or rather, if I ever thought of
+it, it was a mere passing shadow. I put it aside with the thought that
+though you and I had never discussed such a circumstance, judging by all
+your other actions in our relations with Christians, you would be above
+considering such a thing a serious obstacle to two people’s happiness.”
+
+“You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down to
+detail, and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas. However, I
+shall remind Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then--you will
+not object to this?”
+
+“Oh, no; but I know--I know--” What did she know except of the greatness
+of his love that would annihilate all her father’s forebodings?
+
+“Yes,” her father answered the half-spoken thought; “I know too. But
+ponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night,
+when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase of
+this terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say.”
+
+Love is so selfish. Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she had
+never failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and the
+sad eyes of her father.
+
+“Your mother will soon be awake,” he said; “had you not better go back?”
+
+Something that she had expected was wanting in this meeting; she looked
+at him reproachfully, her mouth visibly trembling.
+
+“What is it?” he asked gently.
+
+“Why, Father, you are so cold and hard, and you have not even--”
+
+“Wait till Monday night, Ruth. Then I will do anything you ask me. Now
+go back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet. I
+shall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something to
+think of.”
+
+That afternoon Dr. Kemp received the following brief note:--
+
+
+BEACHAM’S, August 25, 188--
+
+DR. KEMP:
+
+DEAR SIR,--Have you forgotten that my daughter is a Jewess; that you
+are a Christian? Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider this
+question from every possible point of view. If then both you and my
+daughter can satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedly
+have, I shall raise no obstacle to your desires.
+
+Sincerely your friend,
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+
+In the mean time Ruth was thinking it all out. Love was blinding her,
+dazzling her; and the giants that rose before her were dwarfed into
+pygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only in
+smiling at their feebleness. Love was an Armada, and bore down upon the
+little armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms.
+
+Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as little
+Rose Delano stood in Ruth’s room looking up into her friend’s face, the
+dreamy, starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples about
+the corners of her mouth, the whole air of a mysterious something,
+baffled and bewildered her.
+
+Upon Ruth’s writing-table rested a basket of delicate Marechal Niel
+buds, almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was not
+unknown.
+
+“It has agreed well with you, Miss Levice,” said Rose, in her gentle,
+patient voice, that seemed so out of keeping with her young face. “You
+look as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir.”
+
+“So I have,” laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; “it
+has made a ‘nut-brown mayde’ of me, I think, Rosebud. But tell me the
+city news. Everything in running order? Tell me.”
+
+“Everything is as your kind help has willed it. I have a pleasant little
+room with a middle-aged couple on Post Street. Altogether I earn ten
+dollars over my actual monthly expenses. Oh, Miss Levice, when shall I
+be able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?”
+
+“Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that is
+why I am so happy.”
+
+“You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes. Yet the
+first time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have a
+history.”
+
+“Sad?” The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.
+
+She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice
+sounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.
+
+“I am no sorceress,” she answered evasively but lightly; “look in the
+glass and see.”
+
+“You remind me of Floy Tyrrell. Pooh! Let us talk of something else.
+Then it can’t be Wednesdays?”
+
+“It can be any day. The Page children can have Friday.”
+
+“Do you know how Mr. Page is?”
+
+“Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed
+Friday?”
+
+“No.” She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of
+blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had
+had one lesson.
+
+“I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss
+Dora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little
+ones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One
+of the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very
+delicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped
+quietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out
+of one of the rooms. He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately;
+and though I wished to pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my
+hand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss
+Levice, he has no parallel but himself!”
+
+It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It
+was only very sweet and true.
+
+“I knew just what he must be when I saw him,” the girl babbled on; “that
+was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his
+strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me
+if I tire you; you see he sent you to me.”
+
+“You do not tire me, Rose,” she said gravely. And the same expression
+rested upon her face till evening.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVII
+
+Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy,
+low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was
+partially the result of her father’s expressive countenance and voice.
+If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten
+in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had
+spoken a few disturbing words to her:
+
+“I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain
+project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early,
+and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him.”
+
+At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He
+was regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
+
+“Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?” she
+questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
+
+“Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm
+reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I
+told you to consider, Ruth?”
+
+“No, Father.”
+
+She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in
+childhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn
+this same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the
+pain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand
+never could have done.
+
+She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown,
+that fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color
+was upon her.
+
+A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted
+drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
+
+When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him
+immediately.
+
+She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some
+old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of
+all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose
+slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her
+swiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.
+
+“What is it?” he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. “Are you
+tired of me already, love?”
+
+“Not of you; of waiting,” she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
+
+“I hardly expected this,” he said after a pause; “has your father flown
+bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?”
+
+“Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while,
+was it not?” she asked simply.
+
+“It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your
+exit on his entrance.”
+
+“No,” she laughed quietly; “I am going to play the role of the audience
+to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--”
+
+He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted
+him settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it
+quickly to his breast.
+
+“I think it is well that you remain,” he said, “because we agree at any
+rate on the main point,--that we love each other. Always that, darling?”
+
+“Always that--love.”
+
+The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilled
+him oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth moved
+like a bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step had
+given her the momentary courage thus to address him.
+
+He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed a
+striking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;
+Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silvery
+hair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, served
+as a foil to the other’s bright, handsome figure.
+
+Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is more
+thoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is a
+freemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is a
+sign of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise.
+Levice’s hand closed tightly about the doctor’s large one; there was a
+great feeling of mutual respect between these two.
+
+“How are you and your wife?” asked the doctor, seating himself in a low,
+silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.
+
+“She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed. She wished
+to be remembered to you.” As he spoke, he half turned his head to where
+Ruth sat in a corner, a little removed.
+
+“Why do you sit back there, Ruth?”
+
+She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up the
+curious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of an
+isosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles of
+the base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking each
+point an alien from the others.
+
+There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seated
+herself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from the
+sconce behind fell upon her father’s head, each silvery hair seemed to
+speak of quiet old age.
+
+Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.
+
+“Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bush
+the thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, in
+person, what I asked you in writing last Friday,--will you give me your
+daughter to be my wife?”
+
+“I will answer you as I did in writing. Have you considered that you are
+a Christian; that she is a Jewess?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.
+
+“And you, my child?” he addressed her in the old sweet way that she had
+missed in the afternoon.
+
+“I have also done so to the best of my ability.”
+
+“Then you have found it raised no barrier to your desire to become Dr.
+Kemp’s wife?”
+
+“None.”
+
+The two men drew a deep breath at the sound of the little decisive word,
+but with a difference. Kemp’s face shone exultantly. Levice pressed his
+lips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veined
+hands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quite
+peaceful.
+
+“It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by their
+children upon their choice of husband or wife. In France the parents are
+consulted before the daughter; it is not a bad plan. It often saves some
+unnecessary pangs--for the daughter. I am sorry in this case that we are
+not living in France.”
+
+“Then you object?” Kemp almost hurled the words at him.
+
+“I crave your patience,” answered the old man, slowly; “I have grown
+accustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in this
+instance. But as you have put the question, I may answer you now. I do
+most solemnly and seriously object.”
+
+Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly. The doctor
+also changed color.
+
+“My child,” Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, “by
+allowing you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with my
+apparent sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done you
+a great wrong; I admit it with anguish. I ask your forgiveness.”
+
+“Don’t, Father!”
+
+Dr. Kemp’s clinched hand came down with force upon his knee. He
+was white to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strong
+decisiveness rang unmistakably in every word.
+
+“Mr. Levice, I trust I am not speaking disrespectfully,” he began,
+his manly voice plainly agitated, “but I must say that it was a great
+oversight on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as she
+is, into Christian society,--put her right in the way of loving or being
+loved by any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairs
+could lead to nothing. It was not only wrong, but, holding such views,
+it was cruel.”
+
+“I acknowledge my culpability; my only excuse lies in the fact that such
+an event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination. If
+it had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscience
+and bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to think
+seriously upon such an issue.”
+
+“But, sir, I do not understand your exception; you are not orthodox.”
+
+“No; but I am intensely Jewish,” answered the old man, proudly regarding
+his antagonist. “I tell you I object to this marriage; that is not
+saying I oppose it. There are certain things connected with it of
+which neither you nor my daughter have probably thought. To me they
+are all-powerful obstacles to your happiness. Being an old man and more
+experienced, will you permit me to suggest these points? My friend, I
+am seeking nothing but my child’s happiness; if, by opening the eyes
+of both of you to what menaces her future welfare, I can avert what
+promises but a sometime misery, I must do it, late though it may be. If,
+when I have stated my view, you can convince me that I am wrong, I shall
+be persuaded and admit it. Will you accept my plan?”
+
+Kemp bowed his head. The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyes
+deepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice.
+Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote and
+shadowy.
+
+“As you say,” began Levice, “we are not orthodox; but before we become
+orthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested with
+certain hereditary traits that are unconvertible. Every Jew bears in his
+blood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel. The
+farther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance.
+In most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we have
+been set upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginning
+to smile,--that is, some of us. Those whose fathers were helped on
+are nearer the man as he should be than those whose fathers are still
+grovelling. My child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture and
+refinement can give. She is not an exception; there are thousands like
+her among our Jewish girls. Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew from
+his coarser surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and he
+will stand forth the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mix
+forever with pitch and remain undefiled.”
+
+“No man could,” observed Kemp, as Levice paused. “But what are these
+things to me?”
+
+“Nothing; but to Ruth, much. That is part of the bar-sinister between
+you. Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in my
+family; but there are many families, people we visit and love, who,
+though possessing all the substrata of goodness, have never been moved
+to cast off the surface thorns that would prick your good taste as
+sharply as any physical pain. This, of course, is not because they are
+Jews, but because they lack refining influences in their surroundings.
+We look for and excuse these signs; many Christians take them as the
+inevitable marks of the race, and without looking further, conclude that
+a cultured Jew is an impossibility.”
+
+“Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you who
+number so many of them among your friends should not make such sweeping
+assertions. The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader.”
+
+“True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom my
+child would be, without doubt, ostracized. This only by your people; by
+ours it would be worse,--for she will have raised a terrible barrier by
+renouncing her religion.”
+
+“I shall never renounce my religion, Father.”
+
+“Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would be
+cut adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where they
+rightfully belong to where they are not wanted.”
+
+“Sir,” interrupted Kemp, “allow me to show you wherein such a state of
+affairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence. The friends we
+care for and who care for us will not drop off if we remain unchanged.
+Because I love your daughter and she loves me, and because we both
+desire our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein have
+we erred? We shall still remain the same man and woman.”
+
+“Unhappily the world would not think so.”
+
+“Then let them hold to their bigoted opinion; it is valueless, and
+having each other, we can dispense with them.”
+
+“You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would be
+impossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up of
+more than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched. The
+knowledge that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter.”
+
+“But such knowledge,” interrupted Ruth’s sweet voice, “would be robbed
+of all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love.”
+
+Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly to
+his.
+
+“Very well,” he responded; “count the world as nothing. You have just
+said, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion. How could that
+be when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?”
+
+“I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any man
+who would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into his
+life. As for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one. My God is
+fixed and unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinity
+would be to deny his omnipotence. As to forms, you, Father, have bred in
+me a contempt for all but a few. Saturday will always be my Sabbath, no
+matter what convention would make me do. We have decided that writing
+or sewing or pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on that
+day than on another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander is
+more so. But on that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is the
+force of custom. Any day would do as well if we were used to it,--for
+who can tell which was the first and which the seventh counting from
+creation? On our New Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of time
+had passed; but I live only according to one record of time, and my New
+Year falls always on the 1st of January. Atonement is a sacred day to
+me; I could not desecrate it. Our services are magnificently beautiful,
+and I should feel like a culprit if debarred from their holiness. As to
+fasting, you and I have agreed that any physical punishment that keeps
+our thoughts one moment from God, and puts them on the feast that is to
+come, is mere sham and pretence. After these, Father, wherein does our
+religion show itself?”
+
+“Surely,” he replied with some bitterness, “we hold few Jewish rites.
+Well, and so you think you can keep these up? And you, Dr. Kemp?”
+
+Dr. Kemp had been listening attentively while Ruth spoke. His eyes
+kindled brightly as he answered,--
+
+“Why should she not? If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, body
+and soul, as she is to me, what is to prevent her from so continuing?
+And if my wife would permit me to go with her upon her holidays to your
+beautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I. Loving
+her, what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me.”
+
+Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich their
+lives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them that
+made every shot of his harmless.
+
+“I can understand,” he ventured, “that no gentleman with self-respect
+would, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person’s religion.
+You, Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that has
+withstood everything and has never yet been sneered at, however its
+followers have been persecuted. Many of its minor forms are slowly dying
+out and will soon be remembered only historically; this history belongs
+to every one.”
+
+“Certainly. Let us, however, stick to the point in question. You are a
+man who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off most
+of its unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my--for your
+daughter. This distinguishes you. If I were to say the characteristic
+has never been unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needs
+no excuse. Now, sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; more
+formally, a Unitarian. Our faiths are not widely divergent. We are both
+liberal; otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment. As
+to forms, for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity,--a
+sort of moral backbone without which they might fall. Sunday is to me a
+day of rest if my patients do not need me. I enjoy hearing a good sermon
+by any noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that,
+but for the pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentle
+stirring up. There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that is
+Christmas.”
+
+“And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking for
+sympathy for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own home
+the wife whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watches
+your feelings with no answering sympathy? Will this not breed
+dissension, if not in words, at least in spirit? Will you not feel the
+want and resent it?”
+
+Dr. Kemp was silent. The question was a telling one and required
+thought; therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him. Her
+quiet voice carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of grave
+grace.
+
+She addressed her father; each had refrained from appealing to the
+other. The situation in the light of their new, great love was strained
+and unnatural.
+
+“I should endeavor that he should feel no lack,” she said; “for so far
+as Christmas is concerned, I am a Christian also.”
+
+“I do not understand.” Her father’s lips were dry, his voice husky.
+
+“Ever since I have been able to judge,” explained the girl, quietly,
+“Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that ever
+lived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life.”
+
+“Yes?” His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her to
+continue.
+
+“And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great and
+good. Later, when I had read his ‘Sermon on the Mount,’ I grew to see
+that what he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; it
+made me no less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness.
+To me he became the embodiment of Love in the highest,--Love perfect,
+but warm and human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinity
+to augment its power over us. He was God’s attestation, God’s symbol of
+what Man might be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So I
+may call myself a christian, though I spell it with a small letter. It
+is right that such a man’s birthday should be remembered with love; it
+shows what a sweet power his name is, when, as that time approaches,
+everybody seems to love everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrong
+for me to participate in my husband’s actions on that day?”
+
+She received no answer. She looked only at her father with loving
+earnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quite
+lost.
+
+“Would this be wrong, Father?” she urged.
+
+He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load. His dark,
+sallow face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.
+
+“I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion,” he
+responded; “I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leap
+thus far. It were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No;
+you would be but giving your real feelings expression. But such an
+expression would grieve--Pardon; I am to consider your happiness.” He
+seemed to swallow something, and hastily continued: “While we are still
+on this subject, are you aware, my child, that you could not be married
+by a Jewish rabbi?”
+
+She started perceptibly.
+
+“I should love to be married by Doctor C----.” As she pronounced the
+grand old rabbi’s name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.
+
+“I know. But you would have to take a justice as a substitute.”
+
+“A Unitarian minister would be breaking no law in uniting us, and I
+think would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had no
+objection.” The doctor looked at him questioningly. Levice answered by
+turning to Ruth. She passed her hand over her forehead.
+
+“Do you think,” she asked, “that after a ceremony had been performed,
+Dr. C---- would bless us? As a friend, would he have to refuse?”
+
+“He would be openly sanctioning a marriage which according to the
+rabbinical law is no marriage at all. Do you think he would do this,
+notwithstanding his friendship for you?” returned her father. They both
+looked at him intently.
+
+“Ah, well,” she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming to
+her pale lips, “it is but a sentiment, and I could forego it, I suppose.
+One must give up little things sometimes for great.”
+
+“Yes; and this would be but the first. My children, there is something
+radically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much before
+marriage. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;’ and why should
+we add trouble to days already burdened before they come?”
+
+“We should find all this no trouble,” said Kemp; “and what is to trouble
+us after? We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God’s
+name, do you ask for more?”
+
+“As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people. Marriage is a step
+not entered into lightly. Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heard
+of with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages. We know
+beforehand what we have to expect from every quarter. No question I
+have put would be necessary with a Jew. His ways are ours, and, with few
+exceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him. How am
+I sure of this with you? In a moment of anger this difference of faith
+may be flung in each other’s teeth, and what then?”
+
+“You mean you cannot trust me.”
+
+The quiet, forceful words were accompanied by no sign of emotion. His
+deep eyes rested as respectfully as ever upon the old gentleman’s face.
+But the attack was a hard one upon Levice. A vein on his temple sprang
+into blue prominence as he quickly considered his answer.
+
+“I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in any
+undertaking; but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect from
+you as I should have from any Jew who would ask for my daughter’s hand.”
+
+“I understand that,” admitted the other; “but a few minutes ago you
+imputed a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to any
+gentleman. You may have heard of such happenings among some, but an
+event of that kind would be as removed from us as the meeting of the
+poles. Everything depends on the parties concerned.”
+
+“Besides, Father,” added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, “when
+one loves greatly, one is great through love. Can true married love ever
+be divided and sink to this?”
+
+The little white and gold clock ticked on; it was the only sound.
+Levice’s forehead rested upon his hand over which his silvery hair hung.
+Kemp’s strong face was as calm as a block of granite; Ruth’s was pale
+with thought.
+
+Suddenly the old man threw back his head. They both started at the
+revelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in a
+strained smile.
+
+“I--I,” he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance,--“I
+have one last suggestion to make. You may have children. What will be
+their religion?”
+
+The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp’s face. As for
+the girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon her
+father’s changed face.
+
+“Well?”
+
+The doctor gave one quick glance at Ruth and answered,--
+
+“If God should so bless us, I think the simple religion of love enough
+for childhood. Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let them
+choose for themselves, as all should be allowed.”
+
+“And you, my Ruth?”
+
+A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically,--
+
+“I should be guided by my husband.”
+
+The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back,
+dully reiterating, “Time flies, time flies.”
+
+“I have quite finished,” said Levice, rising.
+
+Kemp did likewise.
+
+“After all,” he said deferentially, “you have not answered my question.”
+
+“I--think--I--have,” replied the old man, slowly. “But to what question
+do you refer?”
+
+“The simple one,--will you give me your daughter?”
+
+“No, sir; I will not.”
+
+Kemp drew himself up, bowed low, and stood waiting some further word,
+his face ashy white. Levice’s lips trembled nervously, and then he spoke
+in a gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrast
+to his former violence.
+
+“You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old,
+holds with me in this. I do not know how wildly she would take such a
+proposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shall
+not oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place my
+beliefs as an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it is
+she who will have to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have been
+friends; outside of this one great difference there is no man to whom I
+would more gladly trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentleman
+who has honored my child in his love for her. If I have hurt you in
+these bitter words, forgive me; as my daughter’s husband, we must be
+more than friends.”
+
+He held out his hand. The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,
+made answer somewhat confusedly,--
+
+“Mr. Levice, I thank you. I can say no more now, except that no son
+could love and honor you more than I shall.”
+
+Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,
+looking straight ahead of her.
+
+“My darling,” said her father, softly laying his hand on her head and
+raising her lovely face, “if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trust
+me, dear, it was through no lack of love for you. Do not consider me;
+forget, if you will, all I have said. You are better able, perhaps, than
+I to judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if after
+all this thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him.
+You know that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give you
+to him, I shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; you
+can pass through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl.”
+
+His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped and
+kissed her. He wrung the doctor’s hand again in passing, and abruptly
+turned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruth
+followed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the old
+man passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into place
+behind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVIII
+
+She was perfectly still. Her eyes seemed gazing into vacancy.
+
+“Ruth,” he said softly; but she did not move. His own face showed signs
+of the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as if
+after a long, triumphant struggle. He came nearer and laid his hand
+gently upon her shoulder.
+
+“Love,” he whispered, “have you forgotten me entirely?”
+
+His hand shook slightly; but Ruth gave no sign that she saw or heard.
+
+“This has been too much for you,” he said, drawing her head to his
+breast. She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her face
+lily-white against him. They remained in this position for some minutes
+till he became alarmed at her passivity.
+
+“You are tired, darling,” he said, stroking her cheek; “shall I leave
+you?”
+
+She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, and
+sprang to her feet. She turned giddy and swayed toward him. He caught
+her in his arms.
+
+“I am so dizzy,” she laughed in a broken voice, looking with dry,
+shining eyes at him; “hold me for a minute.”
+
+He experienced a feeling of surprise as she clasped her arms around his
+neck; Ruth had been very shy with her caresses.
+
+His eyes met hers in a long, strange look.
+
+“Of what are you thinking?” he asked in a low voice.
+
+“There is an old German song I used to sing,” she replied musingly;
+“will you think me very foolish if I say it is repeating itself to me
+now, over and over again?”
+
+“What is it, dear?’ he asked, humoring her.
+
+“Do you understand German? Oh, of course, my student; but this is a sad
+old song; students don’t sing such things. These are some of the words:
+‘Beh te Gott! es war zu schoen gewesen.’ I wish--”
+
+“It is a miserable song,” he said lightly; “forget it.”
+
+She disengaged herself from his arms and sat down. Some late roisterers
+passing by in the street were heard singing to the twang of a mandolin.
+It was a full, deep song, and the casual voices blended in perfect
+accord. As the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him with
+a haunting smile.
+
+“People are always singing to us; I wish they wouldn’t. Music is so sad;
+it is like a heart-break.”
+
+He knelt beside her; he was a tall man, and the action seemed natural.
+
+“You are pale and tired,” he said; “and I am going to take a doctor’s
+privilege and send you to bed. To-morrow you can answer better what I
+so long to hear. You heard what your father said; your answer rests
+entirely with you. Will you write, or shall I come?”
+
+“Do you know,” she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, “you
+have very pretty, soft dark hair? Does it feel as soft as it looks?”
+ She raised her hand, and ran her fingers lingeringly through his short,
+thick hair.
+
+“Why,” she said brightly, “here are some silvery threads on your
+temples. Troubles, darling?”
+
+“You shall pull them out,” he answered, drawing her little hand to his
+lips.
+
+“There, go away,” she said quickly, snatching it from him and moving
+from her chair as he rose. She rested her elbow on the mantel-shelf,
+and the candles from the silver candelabra shone on her face; it looked
+strained and weary. Kemp’s brows gathered in a frown as he saw it.
+
+“I am going this minute,” he said; “and I wish you to go to bed at once.
+Don’t think of anything but sleep. Promise me you will go to bed as soon
+as I leave.”
+
+“Very well.”
+
+“Good-night, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her softly, “and dream happy
+dreams.” He stooped again to kiss her hands, and moved toward the door.
+
+“Herbert!” His hand was on the portiere, and he turned in alarm at her
+strange call.
+
+“What is it?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
+
+“Nothing. Don’t--don’t come back, I say. I just wished to see your face.
+I shall write to you. Good-night.”
+
+And the curtain fell behind him.
+
+As he passed down the gravel walk, a hack drew up and stopped in front
+of the house. Louis Arnold sprang out. The two men came face to face.
+
+Arnold recognized the doctor immediately and drew back. When Kemp saw
+who it was, he bowed and passed on. Arnold did likewise, but he went in
+where the other went out.
+
+It was late, after midnight. He had just arrived on a delayed southern
+train. He knew the family had come home that morning. Dr. Kemp was
+rather early in making a visit; it had also taken him long to make it.
+
+Louis put his key in the latch and opened the door. It was very quiet;
+he supposed every one had retired. He flung his hat and overcoat on a
+chair and walked toward the staircase. As he passed the drawing-room,
+a stream of light came from beneath the portiere. He hesitated in
+surprise, everything was so quiet. Probably the last one had forgotten
+to put out the lights. He stepped noiselessly up and entered the room.
+His footfall made no sound on the soft carpet as he moved about putting
+out the lights. He walked to the mantel to blow out the candles, but
+stopped, dumfounded, within a foot of it. The thing that disturbed him
+was the motionless white figure of his cousin. It might have been a
+marble statue, so lifeless she seemed, though her face was hidden in her
+hands.
+
+For a moment Arnold was terrified; but the feeling was immediately
+succeeded by one of exquisite pain. He was a man not slow to conjecture;
+by some intuition he understood.
+
+He regained his presence of mind and turned quietly to quit the room;
+his innate delicacy demanded it. He had but turned when a low, moaning
+sound arrested him; he came back irresolutely.
+
+“Did you call, Ruth?”
+
+Silence.
+
+“Ruth, it is I, Louis, who is speaking to you. Do you know how late it
+is?”
+
+With gentle force he drew her fingers from her face. The mute misery
+there depicted was pitiful.
+
+“Come, go to bed, Ruth,” he said as to a child.
+
+She made a movement to rise, but sank back again.
+
+“I am so tired, Louis,” she pleaded in a voice of tears, like a weary
+child.
+
+“Yes, I know; but I will help you.” The unfamiliar, gentle quality of
+his voice penetrated even to her numbed senses.
+
+She had not seen him since the night he had asked her to be his wife. No
+remembrance of this came to her, but his presence held something new
+and restful. She allowed him to draw her to her feet; and as calmly as a
+brother he led her upstairs and into her room. Without a question he lit
+the gas for her.
+
+“Good-night, Ruth,” he said, blowing out the match. “Go right to bed;
+your head will be relieved by sleep.”
+
+“Thank you, Louis,” she said, feeling dimly grateful for something his
+words implied; “good-night.”
+
+Arnold noiselessly closed the door behind him. She quickly locked it and
+sat down in the nearest chair.
+
+Her hands were interlaced so tightly that her nails left imprints in
+the flesh. She had something to consider. Oh dear, it was such a simple
+thing; was she to break her father’s heart, or her own and--his? Her
+father’s, or his.
+
+It was so stupid to sit and repeat it. Surely it was decided long ago.
+Such a long time ago, when her father’s loving face had put on its
+misery. Would it look that way always? No, no, no! She would not have
+it; she dared not; it was too utterly wretched.
+
+Still, there was some one else at the thought of whom her temples
+throbbed wildly. It would hurt him; she knew it. The thought for a
+moment was a miserable ecstasy; for he loved her,--her, simple Ruth
+Levice,--beyond all doubting she knew he loved her; and, oh, father,
+father, how she loved him! Why must she give it all up? she questioned
+fiercely; did she owe no duty to herself? Was she to drag out all the
+rest of her weary life without his love? Life! It would be a lingering
+death, and she was young yet in years. Other girls had married with
+graver obstacles, in open rupture with their parents, and they had been
+happy. Why could not she? It was not as if he were at fault; no one
+dared breathe a word against his fair fame. To look at his strong,
+handsome face meant confidence. That was when he left the room.
+
+Some one else had left the room also. Some one who had loved her all
+her life, some one who had grown accustomed in more than twenty years to
+listen gladly for her voice, to anticipate every wish, to hold her as
+in the palm of a loving hand, to look for and rest on her unquestioned
+love. He too had left the room; but he was not strong and handsome,
+poor, poor old father with his small bent shoulders. What a wretched
+thing it is to be old and have the heart-strings that have so
+confidently twisted themselves all these years around another rudely cut
+off,--and that by your only child!
+
+At the thought an icy quiet stole over her. How long she sat there,
+musing, debating, she did not know. When the gray dawn broke, she rose
+up calmly and seated herself at her writing-table. She wrote steadily
+for some time without erasing a single word. She addressed the envelope
+without a falter over the name.
+
+“That is over,” she said audibly and deliberately.
+
+A cock crowed. It was the beginning of another day.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIX
+
+Dr. Kemp tossed the reins to his man, sprang from his carriage, and
+hurried into his house. “Burke!” he called while closing the door,
+“Burke!” He walked toward the back of the house and into the kitchen,
+still calling. Finding it empty, he walked back again and began a
+still hunt about the pieces of furniture in the various rooms. Being
+unsuccessful, he went into his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurried
+again to the kitchen.
+
+“Where have you been, Burke?” he exclaimed as that spare-looking
+personage turned, spoon in hand, from the range.
+
+“Right here, General,” he replied in surprise, “except when I went out.”
+
+“Well; did any mail come here for me?”
+
+“One little Billy-do, General. I put it under your dinner-plate; and
+shall I serve the soup?” the last was bellowed after his master’s
+retreating form.
+
+“Wait till I ring,” he called back.
+
+He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and sat
+down hastily, conscious of a slight excitement.
+
+His name and address stared at him from the white envelope in a round,
+firm hand. There was something about the loop-letters that reminded him
+of her, and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface. He did not
+break the seal for some minutes,--anticipation is sometimes sweeter than
+realization. Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for a
+second,--a boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished some
+expected pleasure to spring suddenly upon him. How would she address
+him? The memory of their last meeting gave him courage, and he opened
+his eyes. The denouement was disconcerting. Directly under the tiny
+white monogram she had begun without heading of any description:--
+
+It was cruel of me to let you go as I did: you were hopeful when you
+left. I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason. After all, it
+saved you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even then
+I knew it could never be. Never! Forever!--do you know the meaning of
+those two long words? I do. They have burned themselves irrevocably into
+my brain; try to understand them,--they are final.
+
+I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you know
+exactly how I still consider what is separating us. I am wrong. Only I
+am causing this separation; no one else could or would. Do not blame my
+father; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; he
+would think I am sacrificing my happiness for him. I have no doubt you
+think so now. Let me try to make you understand how different it really
+is. I am no Jephthah’s daughter,--he wants no sacrifice, and I make
+none. Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me. You heard my
+father’s words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoil
+upon your heart like a death’s hand.
+
+I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward I
+am! Let me say it now,--I could never be happy with you. Do you remember
+Shylock,--the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a breaking
+heart? I could not make merry while he wept; my heart would weep also.
+You see how selfish I am; I am doing it for my own sake, and for no
+one’s else.
+
+And that is why I ask you now to forgive me,--because I am not noble
+enough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I am
+a light person seemingly to play thus with a man’s heart. If
+this reflection can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it sound
+presumptuous or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happy
+without me? Well, it is said hearts do not break for love,--that is, not
+quickly. If you will just think of what I have done, surely you will
+not regret your release; you may yet find a paradise with some other and
+better woman. No, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be
+happy. Why should not you, then,--you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. In
+your busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthy
+of spoiling your life for you.
+
+My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. I
+am such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgive
+me?
+
+RUTH.
+
+He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking
+soup.
+
+“I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring,” he stammered, shocked at the
+altered face.
+
+“Take it away,” said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. “I
+do not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not be
+disturbed.”
+
+The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and
+went back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.
+
+Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his
+desk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It took
+a long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him as
+he laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could see
+the expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty
+feeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her,--how could
+he, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got up
+and paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling
+almost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves to
+him. “Paradise with some other, better woman,”--she might have left that
+out; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. “I too
+shall be happy.” Not that, not some other man’s wife,--the thought was
+demoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. “I must
+get out of this,” he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hat
+and went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with
+it, and then came home and wrote to her:--
+
+I can never forgive you; love’s litany holds no such word. Be happy if
+you can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much,--the fact that you are
+somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the
+living. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,
+the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever the
+need, remember--I am at hand.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+Mr. Levice’s face was more haggard than Ruth’s when, after this answer
+was received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavy
+shadows around her eyes.
+
+“It is all over, Father,” she said; “we have parted forever. Perhaps I
+did not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shall
+be happier with you, dear.”
+
+“Are you sure, my darling?”
+
+“Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it is
+dead and buried; we must never remind each other of it again. Kiss me,
+Father, and forget that it has been.”
+
+Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as he
+looked into her lovely, resolute face.
+
+
+
+Chapter XX
+
+We do not live wholly through ourselves. What is called fate is but the
+outcome of the spinning of other individuals twisted into the woof of
+our own making; so no life should be judged as a unit.
+
+Ruth Levice was not alone in the world; she was neither recluse nor
+a genius, but a girl with many loving friends and a genial home-life.
+Having resolved to bear to the world an unchanged front, she outwardly
+did as she had always done. Her mother’s zealous worldliness returned
+with her health; and Ruth fell in with all her plans for a gay
+winter,--that is, the plans were gay; Ruth’s presence could hardly be
+termed so. The old spontaneous laugh was superseded by a gentle smile,
+sympathetic perhaps, but never joyous. She listened more, and seldom now
+took the lead in a general conversation, though there was a charm about
+a tete-a-tete with her that earnest persons, men and women, felt without
+being able to define it. For the change, without doubt, was there.
+It was as if a quiet hand had been passed over her exuberant, happy
+girlhood and left a serious, thoughtful woman in its stead. A subtile
+change like this is not speedily noticed by outsiders; it requires usage
+before an acquaintance will account it a characteristic instead of a
+mood. But her family knew it. Mrs. Levice, wholly in the dark as to the
+cause, wondered openly.
+
+“You might be thirty, Ruth, instead of twenty-two, by the staidness
+of your demeanor. While other girls are laughing and chatting as girls
+should, you look on with the tolerant dignity of a woman of grave
+concerns. If you had anything to trouble you, there might be some
+excuse; but as it is, why can’t you go into enjoyments like the rest of
+your friends?”
+
+“Don’t I? Why, I hardly know another girl who lives in such constant
+gayety as I. Are we not going to a dinner this evening and to the ball
+to-morrow night?”
+
+“Yes; but you might as well be going to a funeral for all the pleasure
+you seem to anticipate. If you come to a ball with such a grandly
+serious air, the men will just as soon think of asking a statue to dance
+as you. A statue may be beautiful in its niche, but people do not care
+to study its meaning at a ball.”
+
+“What do you wish me to do, Mamma? I should hate the distinction of a
+wall-flower, which you think imminent. I am afraid I am too big a woman
+to be frolicsome.”
+
+“You never were that, but you were at least a girl. People will begin
+to think you consider yourself above them, or else that you have some
+secret trouble.”
+
+The smile of incredulity with which she answered her would have been
+heart-breaking had it been understood. No flush stained the ivory pallor
+of her face at these thrusts in the dark; Louis was never annoyed
+in this way now. Her old-time excited contradictions never obtruded
+themselves in their conversations. A silent knowledge lay between them
+which neither, by word or look, ever alluded to. Mrs. Levice noted with
+delight their changed relations. Louis’s sarcasm ceased to be directed
+at Ruth; and though the familiar sparring was missing, Mrs. Levice
+preferred his deferential bearing when he addressed her, and Ruth’s
+grave graciousness with him. She drew her own conclusions, and accepted
+Ruth’s quietness with more patience on this account.
+
+Louis understood somewhat; and in his manliness he could not hide that
+her suffering had cost him a new code of actions. But he could not
+understand as her father did. Despite her brave smile, Levice could
+almost read her heart-beats, and the knowledge brought a hardness and a
+bitter regret. He grew to scanning her face surreptitiously, looking
+in vain for the old, untroubled delight in things; and when the
+unmistakable signs of secret anguish would leave traces at times, he
+would turn away with a groan. Yet there was nothing to be done. He knew
+that her love had been no light thing nor could her giving up be so;
+but feeling that no matter what the present cost, the result would
+compensate, he trusted to time to heal the wound. Meanwhile his own
+self-blame at these times left its mark upon him.
+
+For Ruth lived a dual life. The real one was passed in her quiet
+chamber, in her long solitary walks, and when she sat with her book,
+apparently reading. She would look up with blank, despairing eyes,
+clinched hands, and hard-set teeth when the thought of him and all her
+loss would steal upon her. Her father had caught many such a look upon
+her face. She had resolved to live without him, but accomplishment is
+not so easy. Besides, it was not as if she never saw him. San Francisco
+is not so large a city but that by the turning of a corner you may not
+come across a friend. Ruth grew to study the sounds the different kinds
+of vehicles made; and the rolling wheels of a doctor’s carriage behind
+her would set her pulses fluttering in fright.
+
+She was walking one day along Sutter Street toward Gough from Octavia.
+The street takes a sudden down-grade midway in the block. She was
+approaching this declension just before the Boys’ High School when a
+carriage drove quickly up the hill toward her. The horses gave a bound
+as if the reins had been jerked; there was the momentary flash of a
+man’s stern, white face as he raised his hat; and Ruth was walking down
+the hill, trembling and pale. It was the first time; and for one minute
+her heart seemed to stop beating and then rushed wildly on. Whether she
+had bowed or made any sign of recognition, she did not know. It did
+not matter, though; if he thought her cold or strange or anything, what
+difference could it possibly make? For her there would be left forever
+this dead emptiness. These casual meetings were inevitable; and she
+would come home after them worn-out and heavy-eyed. “A slight headache”
+ was a recurrent excuse with her.
+
+They had common friends, and it would not have been surprising had she
+met him at the different affairs to which she went, always through her
+mother’s desire. But the dread of coming upon him slowly departed as
+the months rolled by and with them all token of him. Time and again she
+would hear allusions to him. “Dr. Kemp has developed into a misogynist,”
+ pouted Dorothy Gwynne. “He was one of the few decided eligibles on the
+horizon, but it requires the magnet of illness to draw him now. I really
+must look up the symptoms of a possible ache; the toilet and expression
+of an invalid are very becoming, you know.”
+
+“Dr. Kemp made a splendid donation to our kindergarten to-day. I have
+not seen him since we were in the country, and he thought me looking
+very well. He inquired after the family, and I told him we had a
+residence, at which he smiled.” This from Mrs. Levice. Ruth would have
+given much to have been able to ask after him with self-possession, but
+the muscles of her throat seemed to swell and choke her while silent.
+She went now and then to see Bob Bard in his flower-store; he would
+without fail inquire after “our friend” or tell her of his having passed
+that day. Here was her one chance of inquiring if he was looking well,
+to which the answer was invariably “yes.”
+
+She sat one night at the opera in her wonted beauty, with her soft,
+dusky hair rolled from her sweet Madonna face. Many a lorgnette was
+raised a second and a third time toward her. Louis, seated next to her,
+resented with unaccountable ferocity this free admiration that she did
+not see or feel.
+
+As the curtain went down on the first act, he drew her attention to
+some celebrity then passing out. She raised her glass, but her hand fell
+nerveless in her lap. Immediately following him came Dr. Kemp. Their
+eyes met, and he bowed low, passing on immediately. The rest of the
+evening passed like a nightmare; she heard nothing but her heart-throbs,
+saw nothing but his beloved face regarding her with simple courtesy.
+Louis knew that for her the opera was over; the tell-tale bistrous
+shadows grew around her eyes, and she became deadly silent.
+
+“What a magnificent man he is,” murmured Mrs. Levice, “and what an
+impressive bow he has!” Ruth did not hear her; but when she reached
+her own room, she threw herself face downward on her bed in intolerable
+anguish. She was not a girl who cried easily. If she had been, her
+suffering would not have been so intense,--when the flood-gates are
+opened, the river finds relief. Over and over again she wished she might
+die and end this eager, passionate craving for some token of love from
+him, or for the power of letting him know how it was with her. And it
+would always be thus as long as she lived. She did not deceive herself;
+no mere friendship would have sufficed,--all or nothing after what had
+been.
+
+Physically, however, she bore no traces of this continual restraint. On
+the contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions. Little
+children, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to be
+taken into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her. By
+degrees her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect and
+the sympathy of her face, and came to regard her as the queen of
+confidantes. Young girls with their continual love episodes and
+excitements, ambitious youths with their whimsical schemes of life and
+aspirations of love, sought her out openly. Few of these latter dared
+hope for any individual thought from her, though any of the older men
+would have staked a good deal for the knowledge that she singled him for
+her consideration.
+
+Arnold viewed it all with inward satisfaction. He regarded memory but
+as a sort of palimpsest; and he was patiently waiting until his own
+name should appear again, when the other’s should have been sufficiently
+obliterated.
+
+It was a severe winter, and everybody appreciated the luxury of a warm
+home. December came in wet and cold, and la grippe held the country in
+its disagreeable hold. The Levices were congratulating themselves one
+evening on their having escaped the epidemic.
+
+“I suppose the secret of it lies in the fact that we do not coddle
+ourselves,” observed Levice.
+
+“If you were to coddle yourself a little more,” retorted his wife, “you
+would not cough every morning as you do. Really, Jules, if you do not
+consult a physician, I shall send for Kemp myself. I actually think it
+is making you thin.”
+
+“Nonsense!” he replied carelessly; “it is only a little irritation of
+the throat every morning. If the weather is clear next week, I must go
+to New York. Eh, Louis?”
+
+“At this time of the year!” cried Mrs. Levice, in expostulation.
+
+“Some one has to go, and the only one that should is I.”
+
+“I think I could manage it,” said Louis, “if you would see about the
+other adjustment while I am gone.”
+
+“No, you could not,”--when Levice said “no,” it seldom meant an ultimate
+“yes.” “Besides, the trip will do me good.”
+
+“I shall go with you,” put in Mrs. Levice, decidedly.
+
+“No, dear; you could not stand the cold in New York, and I could not be
+bothered with a woman’s grip-sack.”
+
+“Take Ruth, then.”
+
+“I should love to go with you, Father,” she replied to the questioning
+glance of his eyes. He seemed to ponder over it for a while, but shook
+his head finally.
+
+“No,” he said again; “I shall be very busy, and a woman would be a
+nuisance to me. Besides, I wish to be alone for a while.”
+
+They all looked at him in surprise; he was so unused to making testy
+remarks.
+
+“Grown tired of womankind?” asked Mrs. Levice, playfully. “Well, if
+you must, you must; don’t overstay your health and visit, and bring us
+something pretty. How long will you be gone?”
+
+“That depends on the speediness of the courts. No more than three weeks
+at the utmost, however.”
+
+So the following Wednesday being bright and sunny, he set off; the
+family crossed the bay with him.
+
+“Take care of your mother, Ruth,” he said at parting, “and of yourself,
+my pale darling.”
+
+“Don’t worry about me, Father,” she said, pulling up his furred collar;
+“indeed, I am well and happy. If you could believe me, perhaps you would
+love me as much as you used to.”
+
+“As much! My child, I never loved you better than now; remember that. I
+think I have forgotten everybody else in you.”
+
+“Don’t, dear! it makes me feel miserable to think I should cause you a
+moment’s uneasiness. Won’t you believe that everything is as I wish it?”
+
+“If I could, I should have to lose the memory of the last four months.
+Well, try your best to forgive me, child.”
+
+“Unless you hate me, don’t hurt me with that thought again. I forgive
+you? I, who am the cause of it all?”
+
+He kissed her tear-filled eyes tenderly, and turned with a sign to her
+mother.
+
+They watched to the last his loved face at the window, Ruth with a sad
+smile and a loving wave of her handkerchief.
+
+Over at the mole it is not a bad place to witness tragedies. Pathos
+holds the upper hand, and the welcomes are sometimes as heart-rending as
+the leave-takings. A woman stood on the ferry with a blank, working face
+down which the tears fell heedlessly; a man, her husband, turned from
+her, drew his hat down over his eyes, and stalked off toward the
+train without a backward glance. Parting is a figure of death in this
+respect,--that only those who are left need mourn; the others have
+something new beyond.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXI
+
+The fire-light threw grotesque shadows on the walls. Ruth and Louis in
+the library made no movement to ring for lights; it was quite cosey as
+it was. They had both drawn near the crackling wood-blaze, Ruth in a low
+rocker, Arnold in Mr. Levice’s broad easy-chair.
+
+“I surely thought you intended going to the concert this evening,
+Louis,” she said, looking across at him. “I fancy Mamma expected you to
+accompany her.”
+
+“What! Voluntarily put myself into the cold when there is a fire blazing
+right here? Ah, no. At any rate, your mother is all right with the
+Lewises, and I am all right with you.”
+
+“I give you a guarantee I shall not bite; you look altogether too hard
+for my cannibalistic propensities.”
+
+“It is something not to be accounted soft. I think a redundancy of flesh
+overflows in trickling sentimentality. My worst enemy could not accuse
+me of either fault.”
+
+“But your best friend would not mind a little thaw now and then. One of
+the girls confided to me today that walking on and over-waxed floor was
+nothing to attempting an equal footing in conversation with you.”
+
+“I am sorry I am such a slippery customer. Does not the fire burn your
+face? Shall I hand you a screen?”
+
+“No; I like to toast.”
+
+“But your complexion might char; move your chair a little forward.”
+
+“In two minutes I intend to have lights and to bring my work down. Will
+it make you tired to watch me?”
+
+“Exceedingly. I prefer your undivided attention; it is not often we are
+alone, Ruth.”
+
+She looked up slightly startled; he seldom made personal remarks. Her
+pulses began to flutter with the premonition that reference to a tacitly
+buried secret was going to be made.
+
+“We have been going out and receiving a good deal lately, though somehow
+I don’t feel festive, with Father away in freezing New York. Mamma would
+gladly have stayed at home to-night if Jennie had not insisted.”
+
+“You think so? I fancy she was a very willing captive; she intimated as
+much to me.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“Not in words, but her eyes were interesting reading: first,
+capitulation to Jennie, then, in rapid succession, inspiration, command,
+entreaty, a challenge and retreat, all directed at me. Possibly this
+eloquence was lost upon you.”
+
+“Entirely. What was your interpretation?”
+
+“Ah, that was confidential. Perhaps I even endowed her with these
+thoughts, knowing her desires were in touch with my own.”
+
+“It is wanton cruelty to arouse a woman’s curiosity and leave it
+unsatisfied.”
+
+“It is not cruelty; it is cowardice.”
+
+She gazed at him in wonder. His apple-blossom cheeks wore a rosier glow
+than usual. He seized a log from the box, threw it on the blaze that
+illumined their faces, grasped the poker, and leaning forward in his
+chair let it grow hot as he held it to the flames. His glasses fell off,
+dangling from the cord; and as he adjusted them, he caught the curious,
+half-amused smile on Ruth’s attentive face. He gave the fire a sharp
+raking and addressed her, gazing into the leaping flames.
+
+“I was wondering why, after all, you could not be happy as my wife.”
+
+A numbness as of death overspread her.
+
+“I think I could make you happy, Ruth.”
+
+In the pregnant silence that followed he looked up, and meeting her sad,
+reproachful eyes, laid down the poker softly but resolutely; there was
+method in the action.
+
+“In fact, I know I could make you happy.”
+
+“Louis, have you forgotten?” she cried in sharp pain.
+
+“I have forgotten nothing,” he replied incisively. “Listen to me, Ruth.
+It is because I remember that I ask you. Give me the right to care
+for you, and you will be happier than you can ever be in these
+circumstances.”
+
+“You do not know what you ask, Louis. Even if I could, you would never
+be satisfied.”
+
+“Try me, Ruth,” he entreated.
+
+She raised herself from her easy, reclining position, and regarded him
+earnestly.
+
+“What you desire,” she said in a restrained manner, “would be little
+short of a crime for me. What manner of wife should I be to you when my
+every thought is given to another?”
+
+His face put on the set look of one who has shut his teeth hard
+together.
+
+“I anticipated this repulse,” he said after a pause; “so what you have
+just assured me of does not affect my wish or my resolution to continue
+my plea.”
+
+“Would you marry a woman who feels herself as closely bound to another,
+or the memory of another, as if the marriage rite had been actually
+performed? Oh, Louis, how could you force me to these disclosures?”
+
+“I am seeking no disclosure, but it is impossible for me to continue
+silent now.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Why? Because I love you.”
+
+They sat so close together he might have touched her by putting out his
+hand, but he remained perfectly still, only the pale excitement of long
+repression speaking from his face; but she shrank back at his words and
+raised her hand as if about to receive a blow.
+
+“Do not be alarmed,” he continued, noticing the action; “my love cannot
+hurt you, or it would have killed you long ago.”
+
+“Oh, Louis,” she murmured, “forgive me; I never thought you cared so
+much.”
+
+“How should you? I am not a man to wear my heart upon my sleeve. I think
+I have always loved you; but living as familiarly as we have lived,
+seeing you whenever I wished, the thought that some day this might end
+never occurred to me. It was only when the possibility of some other
+man’s claiming your love and taking you from me presented itself, that
+my heart rose up in arms against it,--and then I asked you to be my
+wife.”
+
+“Yes,” she replied, raising her pale face; “and I refused. The same
+cause that moved me then, and to which you submitted without protest,
+rules me now, and you know it.”
+
+“No; I do not know it. What then might have had a possible issue is now
+done with--or do I err?”
+
+Her mouth trembled piteously, but no tears came as she lowered her head.
+
+“Then listen to me. You may think me a poor sort of a fellow even to
+wish you to marry me when you assure me that you love another. That
+means that you do not love me as a husband should be loved, but it does
+not prove that you never could love me so.”
+
+“It proves just that.”
+
+“No, you may think so now, but let me reason you into seeing the falsity
+of your thought,--for I do not wish to force or impel you to do a thing
+repugnant to your reason as well as to your feelings. To begin with, you
+do not dislike me?”
+
+His face was painful in its eagerness.
+
+“I have always loved you as a dear brother.”
+
+“Some people would consider that worse than hostility; I do not. Another
+question: Is there anything about my life or personality to which you
+object, or of which your are ashamed?”
+
+“You know how proud we all are of you in your bearing in every relation
+of life.”
+
+“I was egotist enough to think as much at any rate; otherwise I
+could not approach you so confidently. Well, love--indifferent if you
+will--and respect are not a bad foundation for something stronger. Will
+you, for the sake of argument, suppose that for some reason you have
+forgotten your opposition and have been led into marrying me?”
+
+The sad indulgence of her smile was not inspiriting, but he continued,--
+
+“Now, then, say you are my wife; that means I am your husband, and I
+love you. You do not return my love, you say; you think you would be
+wretched with me because you love another. Still, you are married to me;
+that gives me rights that no other man can possess, no matter how much
+you love him. You are bound to me, I to you and your happiness; so I
+pledge myself to make you happier than you are now, because I shall make
+you forget this man.”
+
+“You could not, and I should only grow to hate you.”
+
+“Impossible,” the pallor of his face intensifying; “because I should
+so act that my love would wait upon your pleasure: it would never push
+itself into another’s place, but it would in time overshadow the other.
+For, remember, I shall be your husband. I shall give you another life;
+I shall take you away with me. You will leave all your old friends
+and associations for a while, and I shall be with you always,--not
+intrusively, but necessarily. I shall give you every pleasure and
+novelty that the Old World can afford. I shall shower my love on you,
+not myself. In return I shall expect your tolerance. In time I will make
+you love me.”
+
+His voice shook with the strength of his passion, while she listened in
+heart-sick fear. Carried away by his manner, she almost felt as if he
+had accomplished his object. He quieted down after this.
+
+“Don’t you see, Ruth, that all this change must make you forget? And if
+you tried to put the past from you for no other reason than that your
+wifehood would be less untrue, you would be but following the instincts
+of a truly honorable woman. After that, all would be easy. In every
+instance you would be forced to look upon me as your husband, for you
+would belong to me. I should be the author of all your surroundings; and
+always keeping in mind how I want you to regard me, I should woo you so
+tenderly that without knowing it you would finally yield. Then, and only
+then, when I had filled your thought to the exclusion of every other
+man, I should bring you home; and I think we should be happy.”
+
+“And you would be satisfied to give so much and receive so little?”
+
+“The end would repay me.”
+
+“It is a pretty story,” she said, letting her hands fall listlessly into
+her lap, “but the denouement is a castle in Spain that we should never
+inhabit. You think your love is strong enough to kill mine first of
+all; well, I tell you, nothing is strong enough for that. With this fact
+established the rest is needless to speak of. It is only your dream,
+Louis; forgive me that I unwittingly intruded into it; reality would
+mean disillusion,--we are happy only when we dream.”
+
+“You are bitter.”
+
+“Our relations are turned, then; I have put into practice your old
+theories of the uselessness of life. No; I am wrong. It is better to die
+than not to have loved.”
+
+“You think you have lived your life, then. I can’t convince you
+otherwise now; but I am going to beg you to think this over, to try
+to imagine yourself my wife. I will not hasten your decision, but in a
+week’s time you should be able to answer me yes or no. If anything can
+help my cause, I cannot overlook it; so I may tell you now that for some
+occult reason your mother’s one wish is to see you my wife.”
+
+“And my father?” her voice was harsh now.
+
+“Your father has expressed to your mother that such a course would make
+him happy.”
+
+She rose suddenly as if oppressed. Her face looked hard to a degree. She
+stood before him, tall and rigid. He stood up and faced her, reading
+her face so intently that he straightened himself as if to receive an
+attack.
+
+“I will consider what you have said,” she said mechanically.
+
+The reaction was so unexpected that he turned giddy and caught on to the
+back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+“It will not take me a week,” she went on with no change in her
+monotone; “I can give you an answer in a day or two. To-morrow night,
+perhaps.”
+
+He made a step forward, a movement to seize her hand; but she stepped
+back and waved him off.
+
+“Don’t touch me,” she cried in a suppressed voice; “at least you are not
+my husband--yet.”
+
+She turned hastily toward the door without another word.
+
+“Wait!”
+
+His vibrant voice compelled her to turn.
+
+“I want no martyr for a wife, nor yet a tragedy queen. If you can come
+to me and honestly say, ‘I trust my happiness to you,’ well and good.
+But as I told you once before, I am not a saint, and I cannot always
+control myself as I have been forced to do tonight. If this admission is
+damaging, it is too true to be put lightly aside. I shall not detain you
+longer.”
+
+He looked haughty and cold regarding her from this dim distance. Her
+gentleness struggled to get the better of her, and she came back and
+held out her hand.
+
+“I am sorry if I offended you, Louis; good-night. Will you not pardon my
+selfishness?”
+
+His eyes gleamed behind their glasses; he did not take her hand, but
+merely bent over the little peace-offering as over a sacrament. Seeing
+that he had no intention of doing more, her hand fell passively to her
+side, and she left the room.
+
+As the door closed softly, Arnold sank with a hopeless gesture into
+a chair and buried his face in his hands. He was not a stoic, but a
+man,--a Frenchman, who loved much; but Arnold, half-blinded by his own
+love, scarcely appreciated the depths of self-forgetfulness to which
+Ruth would have to succumb in order to accept the guaranty of happiness
+which he offered her.
+
+The question now presented itself in the light of a duty: if by this
+action she could undo the remorse that her former offence had inflicted,
+had she the right to ignore the opportunity? A vision of her own sad
+face obtruded itself, but she put it sternly from her. If she were to do
+this thing, the motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly kept
+in view the fact that her marriage would be the only means by which her
+father might be relieved of the haunting knowledge of her lost peace
+of mind. Had she given one thought to Louis, the possibility of the act
+would have been abhorrent to her. One picture she kept constantly before
+her,--her father’s happy eyes.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXII
+
+Mrs. Levice’s gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was
+embroidering to Ruth’s pale face. Every time the latter stirred, her
+mother started expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not
+forthcoming. Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the
+feeling of comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call
+comfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth’s face had at last
+led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark
+shadows about her eyes meant something decidedly not gladsome.
+
+“Don’t you feel well, Ruth?” she asked finally with some anxiety.
+
+Ruth raised her heavy eyes.
+
+“I? Oh, I feel perfectly well. Why do you ask? Do I look ill?”
+
+“Yes, you do; your face is pale, and your eyes look tired. Did you sit
+up late last night?”
+
+This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so
+evident to her now.
+
+“No,” she replied; “I believe it could not have been nine when I went
+upstairs.”
+
+“Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis’s company
+unpleasant?”
+
+“Oh, no,” was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page
+again.
+
+Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such
+tactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of
+which her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almost
+positive that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash
+of intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. It
+was natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so
+reserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something
+more.
+
+“For my part,” she observed, as if continuing a discussion, “I
+think Louis charming in a tete-a-tete,--when he feels inclined to
+be interesting he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worth
+repeating? It is a dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little.”
+
+She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and
+encountered Ruth’s full, questioning gaze.
+
+“What is it you would like to know, Mamma?” she asked in a gentle voice.
+
+“Nothing that you do not wish to tell,” her mother answered proudly, but
+regarding her intently.
+
+Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment
+before answering.
+
+“I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had
+decided I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked me
+to--marry him.”
+
+The avowal was not made with the conventional confusion and trembling.
+
+Mrs. Levice was startled by the dead calm of her manner.
+
+“You say that as if it were a daily occurrence for a man like Louis
+Arnold to offer you his hand and name.”
+
+“I hope not.”
+
+“But you do. I confess I think you are not one tenth as excited as I am.
+Why didn’t you tell me before? Any other girl would have sat up to tell
+her mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have been
+looking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean by
+saying you wished to wait till you had decided? Decided what?”
+
+“Upon my answer.”
+
+“As if you could question it, you fortunate girl! Or were you waiting
+for me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have been
+honored.”
+
+“Honor is not everything, Mamma.”
+
+At that moment a desperate longing for her mother’s sympathy seized
+her; but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would
+occasion came to her, and her lips remained closed.
+
+“No,” responded her mother, “and you have more than that; surely Louis
+did not neglect to tell you.”
+
+“You mean his love, I suppose,--yes, I have that.”
+
+“Then what else would you have? You probably know that he can give you
+every luxury within reason,--so much for honest practicality. As to
+Louis himself, the most fastidious could find nothing to cavil at,--he
+will make you a perfect husband. You are familiar enough with him to
+know his faults; but no man is faultless. I hope you are not so silly
+as to expect some girlish ideal,--for all the ideals died in the Golden
+Age, you know.”
+
+“As mine did. No; I have outgrown imagination in that line.”
+
+“Then why do you hesitate?” Her mother’s eyes were shining; her face
+was alive with the excitement of hope fulfilled. “Is there anything else
+wanting?”
+
+“No,” she responded dully; “but let us not talk about it any more,
+please. I must see Louis again, you know.”
+
+“If your father were here, he could help you better, dear;” there was no
+reproach in Mrs. Levice’s gentle acceptance of the fact; “he will be so
+happy over it. There, kiss me, girlie; I know you like to think things
+out in silence, and I shall not say another word about it till you give
+me leave.”
+
+She kept her word. The dreary afternoon dragged on. By four o-clock it
+was growing dark, and Mrs. Levice became restless.
+
+“I am going to my room to write to your father now,--he shall have a
+good scolding for the non-receipt of a letter to-day;” and forthwith she
+betook herself upstairs.
+
+Ruth closed her book and moved restlessly about the room. She wandered
+over to the front window, and drawing aside the silken curtain, looked
+out into the storm-tossed garden. The pale heliotropes lay wet and sweet
+against the trellises; some loosened rose-petals fluttered noiselessly
+to the ground; only the gorgeous chrysanthemums looked proudly
+indifferent to the elements; and the beautiful, stately palm-tree just
+at the side of the window spread its gracious arms like a protecting
+temple. She felt suddenly oppressed and feverish, and threw open the
+long French window. The rain had ceased for the time, and she stepped
+out upon the veranda. The fragrance of the rain-soaked flowers stole to
+her senses; the soft, sweet breeze caressed her temples; she stood still
+in the perfumed freshness and enjoyed its peace. By and by she began to
+walk up and down. Evening was approaching, and Louis would soon be home.
+She had decided to meet him on his return and have it over with. She
+must school herself to some show of graciousness. The thing must not be
+done by halves or it must not be done at all. Her father’s happiness;
+over and over she repeated it. She went so far as to picture herself in
+his arms; she heard the old-time words of blessing; she saw his smiling
+eyes; and a gentleness stole over her whole face, a gentle nobility that
+made it strangely sweet. The soft patter of rain on the gravel roused
+her, and she went in; but she felt better, and wished Louis might come
+in while the mood was upon her.
+
+It was nearing six when Mrs. Levice came back humming a song.
+
+“I thought you would still be here. Make a light, will you, Ruth; it is
+as pitchy as Hades, only that smouldering log looks purgatorial.”
+
+Ruth lit the gas; and as she stood with upturned eyes adjusting the
+burner, her mother noticed that the heaviness had departed from her
+face. She sank into a rocker and took up the evening paper.
+
+“What time is it, Ruth?”
+
+“Twenty minutes to six,” she answered, glancing at the clock.
+
+“As late as that?” She meant to say, “And Louis not home yet?” but
+forbore to mention his name.
+
+“It is raining heavily now,” said Ruth, throwing a log upon the fire.
+Mrs. Levice unfolded the crackling newspaper, and Ruth moved over to the
+window to draw down the blinds. As she stood looking out with her hand
+on the chair, she saw the gate swing slowly open, and a messenger-boy
+came dawdling up the walk as if the sun were streaming full upon him.
+
+Ruth stepped noiselessly out, meaning to anticipate his ring. A vague
+foreboding drove the blood from her lips as she stood waiting at
+the open hall-door. Seeing the streaming light, the boy managed to
+accelerate his snail’s pace.
+
+“Miss Ruth Levice live here?” he asked, stopping in the doorway.
+
+“Yes.” She took the packet he handed her. “Any charges or answers?” she
+asked.
+
+“Nom,” answered the boy; and noticing her pallor and apprehension, “I’ll
+shet the door for you,” he added, laying his hand on the knob.
+
+“Thank you. Here, take two cars if necessary; it is too wet to walk.”
+ She handed him a quarter, and the boy went off, gayly whistling.
+
+She closed the heavy door softly and sat down on a chair. She recognized
+Louis’s handwriting on the wrapper, and her heart fluttered ominously.
+She tore off the damp covering, and the first thing she encountered was
+another wrapper on which was written in large characters:--
+
+DEAR RUTH,--Do not be alarmed; everything is all right. I had to leave
+town on the overland at 6 P.M. Read the letter first, then the telegram;
+they will explain.
+
+LOUIS
+
+The kindly feeling that had prompted this warning was appreciated; one
+fear was stilled. She drew out the letter; she saw in perplexity that it
+was from her father. She hurriedly opened it and read:
+
+NEW YORK, Jan. 21, 188--.
+
+DEAR LOUIS,--I am writing this from my bed, where I have been confined
+for the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a daily
+postal. Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious to
+start home again. I really cannot rest here, and have made arrangements
+to leave to-morrow. Have taken every precaution against catching cold,
+and apart from feeling a trifle weak and annoyed by a cough, am all
+right. Shall come home directly. Say nothing of this to Esther or Ruth;
+shall apprise them by telegram of my home-coming. Had almost completed
+the business, and can leave the rest to Hamilton.
+
+My love to you all.
+
+Your loving Uncle,
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+
+Under this Louis had pencilled,
+
+Received this this morning at 10.30.
+
+Ruth closed her eyes as she unfolded the telegram; then with every nerve
+quivering she read the yellow missive:--
+
+RENO, Jan. 27, 188--.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD, San Francisco, Cal.:
+
+Have been delayed by my cough. Feeling too weak to travel alone. Come if
+you can.
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+Her limbs shook as she sat; her teeth chattered; for one minute she
+turned sick and faint. Under the telegram Arnold had written:--
+
+Am sure it is nothing. He has never been ill, and is more frightened
+than a more experienced person would be. There is no need to alarm your
+mother unnecessarily, so say nothing till you hear from me. Shall wire
+you as soon as I arrive, which will be to-morrow night.
+
+LOUIS.
+
+How could she refrain from telling her mother? She felt suddenly weak
+and powerless. O God, good God, her heart cried, only make him well!
+
+The sound of the library door closing made her spring to her feet; her
+mother stood regarding her.
+
+“What is it, Ruth?” she asked.
+
+“Nothing,” she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to be
+calm,--“nothing at all. Louis has just sent me word that he had to leave
+town this evening, and says not to wait dinner for him.”
+
+“That is very strange,” mused her mother, moving slowly toward her and
+holding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into her
+pocket.
+
+“It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, do
+you?” she asked, assuming a desperate gayety. “There is nothing strange
+about it; he often leaves like this.”
+
+“Not in such weather and not after---- There won’t be a man in the house
+to-night. I wish your father were home; he would not like it if he
+knew.” She shivered slightly as they went into the dining-room.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIII
+
+The next day passed like a nightmare. To add to the misery of her
+secret, her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any
+communication from her husband. Had the weather been fair, Ruth would
+have insisted on her going out with her; but to the rain of the day
+before was added a heavy windstorm that made any unnecessary expedition
+from home absurd.
+
+Mrs. Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down. She
+was sure that the next delivery would bring something. Was it not time
+for the second delivery? Would not Ruth please watch for the postman?
+By half-past one she took up her station at the window only to see the
+jaunty little rubber-encased man go indifferently by. At half-past four
+this scene was repeated, and then she decided to act.
+
+“Ring up the telegraph-office, Ruth; I am going to send a despatch.”
+
+“Why, Mamma, probably the mail is delayed; it always is in winter.
+Besides, you will only frighten Father.”
+
+“Nonsense; two days is a long delay without the excuse of a blockade. Go
+to the telephone, please.”
+
+“The telephone was broken yesterday, you know.”
+
+“I had forgotten. Well, one of the girls must go; I can’t stand it any
+longer.”
+
+“You can’t send any of the girls in such weather; both the maids have
+terrible colds, and Mary would not go if you asked her. Listen! It is
+frightful. I promise to go in the morning if we don’t get a letter,
+but we probably shall. Let us play checkers for a while.” With a forced
+stoicism she essayed to distract her mother’s thoughts, but with poor
+success. The wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately after
+a show of dining, Mrs. Levice went to bed. At Ruth’s suggestion she took
+some headache medicine.
+
+“It will make me sleep, perhaps; and that will be better than worrying
+awake and unable to do anything.”
+
+The opiate soon had its effect; and with a sigh of relief Ruth heard
+her mother’s regular breathing. It was now her turn to suffer openly the
+fox-wounds. Louis had said she would hear to-night; but at what time?
+It was now eight o’clock, and the bell might ring at any moment. Mrs.
+Levice slept; and Ruth sat dry-eyed and alert, feeling her heart rise to
+her throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled. It was
+one of the wildest nights San Francisco ever experienced; trees groaned,
+gates slammed, and a perfect war of the elements was abroad. The wailing
+wind about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of some one
+begging for shelter. The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine.
+Still her mother slept. Ruth from her chair could see that her cheeks
+were unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried; but any
+degree of oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacing
+tidings. Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrapped
+them in the fleecy shawl that enveloped her. The action brought to her
+mind the way her father used to tuck her little hands under the coverlet
+when a child, after they had clung around his neck in a long good-night,
+and how no sooner were they there than out they would pop for “just one
+squeeze more, Father;” how long the good-nights were with this play! She
+had never called him “papa” like other children, but he had always liked
+it best so. She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweet
+little chimer rang out ten bells; she began to grow heart-sick with her
+thoughts; her limbs ached with stiffness, and she began a gentle walk
+up and down the room. Would it keep up all night? There! surely somebody
+was crunching up the gravel-walk. With one look at her sleeping mother,
+she quickly left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. With a
+palpitating heart she leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm,
+after all? The next instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as
+startling in the dead of the night as some supernatural summons. Before
+Ruth could hurry down, Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out of
+her room and rushed to the door. In a trice she was back again with the
+telegram and had put it into Ruth’s hands.
+
+“Fifteen cents’ charges,” she said.
+
+“Pay it,” returned Ruth.
+
+As the maid turned away, she tore open the envelope. Before she could
+open the form, a firm hand was placed upon hers.
+
+“Give me that,” said her mother’s voice.
+
+Ruth recoiled; Mrs. Levice stood before her unusually quiet in her white
+night-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth’s fingers
+from the paper.
+
+“But, Mamma, it was addressed to me”
+
+“It was a mistake, then; I know it was meant for me. Let go instantly,
+or I shall tear the paper. Obey me, Ruth.”
+
+Her voice sounded harsh as a man’s. At the strange tone Ruth’s fingers
+loosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room;
+Ruth followed her closely.
+
+Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read. No change came over
+her face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word to
+Ruth. This was the message:--
+
+RENO, Jan. 28, 188--
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE, San Francisco, Cal.
+
+Found your father very weak and feverish and coughing continually.
+Insists on getting home immediately. Says to inform Dr. Kemp, who will
+understand, and have him at the house on our arrival at 11.30 Thursday.
+No present danger.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD
+
+“Explain,” commanded her mother, speaking in her overwrought condition
+as if to a stranger.
+
+“Get into bed first, Mamma, or you will take cold.”
+
+Mrs. Levice suffered herself to be led there, and in a few words Ruth
+explained what she knew.
+
+“You knew that yesterday before the train left?”
+
+“Yes, Mamma.”
+
+“And why didn’t you tell me? I should have gone to him. Oh, why didn’t
+you tell me?”
+
+“It would have been too late, dear.”
+
+“No, it is too late now; do you hear? I shall never see him again,
+and it is all your fault--what do you know? Stop crying! will you stop
+crying, or--”
+
+“Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that are
+not true. It will not be too late; perhaps it is nothing but the cough.
+Louis says there is no danger.”
+
+“Hush!” cried her mother, her whole figure trembling. “I know there is
+danger now, this minute. Oh, what can I do, what can I do?” With this
+cry all her strength seemed to give way; she sobbed and laughed with the
+hysteria of long ago; when Ruth strove to put her arms around her, she
+shook her off convulsively.
+
+“Don’t touch me!” she breathed; “it is all your fault--he wants
+me--needs me--and, oh, look at me here! Why do you stand there like a
+ghost? Go away. No, come here--I want Dr. Kemp; now, at once, he said to
+have him; send for him, Ruth.”
+
+“On Thursday morning,” she managed to answer.
+
+“No, now--I must, must, must have him! You won’t go? Then I shall; move
+aside.”
+
+Ruth, summoning all her strength, strove to hold her in her arms, all to
+no avail.
+
+“Lie still,” she said sternly; “I shall go for Dr. Kemp.”
+
+“You can’t; it is night and raining. Oh,” she continued, half
+deliriously, “I know I am acting strangely, and he will calm me. Ruth, I
+want to be calm; don’t you understand?”
+
+The two maids, frightened by the noise, stood in the doorway. Both had
+their heads covered with shawls; both were suffering with heavy colds.
+
+“Come in, girls. Stay here with my mother; I am going for the doctor.”
+
+“Oh, Miss Ruth, ain’t you afraid? It’s a awful night, and black as
+pitch, and you all alone?” asked one, with wide, frightened eyes.
+
+“I am not afraid,” said the girl, a great calmness in her voice as she
+spoke above her mother’s sobbing; “stay and try to quiet her. I shall
+not be gone long.”
+
+She flew into her room, drew on her overshoes and mackintosh, grasped a
+sealskin hood, which she tied securely under her chin, and went out into
+the howling, raging night.
+
+She had but a few blocks to go, but under ordinary circumstances the
+undertaking would have been disagreeable enough. The rain came down in
+heavy, wild torrents; the wind roared madly, wrapping her skirts around
+her limbs and making walking almost an impossibility; the darkness
+was impenetrable save for the sickly, quavering light shed by the few
+street-lamps, as far apart as angel visitants. Lowering her head and
+keeping her figure as erect as possible, she struggled bravely on.
+She met scarcely any one, and those she did meet occasioned her little
+uneasiness in the flood of unusual emotions that overwhelmed her soul.
+At any other time the thought of her destination would have blotted out
+every other perception; now this was but one of many shuddering visions.
+Trouble was making her hard; life could offer her little that would find
+her unequal to the test. Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark,
+imposing mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havocking
+elements. The rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced it
+unflinchingly as a small part of her trials. Without a tremor she ran
+up Dr. Kemp’s steps. It was only when she stood with her finger on the
+bell-button that she realized whom she was about to encounter. Then for
+the first time she gave one long sob of self-recollection, and pushed
+the button.
+
+Burke almost immediately opened the door. Ruth had no intention of
+entering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home.
+
+“Who’s there?” asked Burke, peering out into the darkness. “It’s a divil
+of a night for any one but--”
+
+“Is Dr. Kemp in?” The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he opened
+the door wide.
+
+“Come in, mum,” he said apologetically; “come in out of the night.”
+
+“No. Is the doctor in?”
+
+“I don’t know,” he grumbled, “and I can’t stand here with the door
+open.”
+
+“Close it, then, but see if he is in, please.”
+
+“I’ll lave it open, and ye can come in or stay out according if ye are
+dry-humored or wet-soled;” and he shuffled off. The door was open! Her
+father had assured her of this once long ago. Inside were warmth and
+light; outside, in the shadow, were cold and darkness. Here she stood.
+Would the man never return? Ah, here he came hurrying along; she drew
+nearer the door; within a half-foot she stood still with locked jaw and
+swimming senses.
+
+“My good woman,” said the grave, kindly voice which calmed while it
+unnerved her, “come in and speak to me here. Am I wanted anywhere? Come
+in, please; the door must be closed.”
+
+With almost superhuman will she drew herself together and came closer.
+Seeing the dark, moving figure, he opened the door wide, and she stepped
+in; then as it closed she faced him, turning up her white, haggard face
+to his.
+
+“You!”
+
+He recoiled as if stunned, but quickly recovered himself.
+
+“What trouble has brought you to me?” he cried.
+
+“My mother,” she replied in a low, stifled voice, adding almost
+instantly in a distant and formal tone, “can you come at once? She is
+suffering with hysteria and calls you incessantly.”
+
+He drew himself up and looked at her with a cold, grand air. This girl
+had been the only woman who had signally affected his life; yet if her
+only recognition of it was this cold manner, he could command the same.
+
+“I will come,” he replied, looking unbendingly, with steely gray eyes,
+into her white passionless face, framed in its dark hood.
+
+She bowed her head--further words were impossible--and turned to the
+door.
+
+He watched her tugging in blind stupefaction at the strange bolt, but
+did not move to her assistance. Her head was bent low over the intricate
+thing; but it was useless,--it would not move, and she suddenly raised
+her eyes beseechingly to him; with a great revulsion of feeling he saw
+that they were swimming in tears. His own lips trembled, and his heart
+gave a wild leap. Then one of those unaccountable moods that sometimes
+masters the best swayed him strongly.
+
+She was alone with him there; he could keep her if he wished. One look
+at her lovely, beloved face, and his higher manhood asserted itself. He
+unlatched the door, and still holding it closed, said in a deferential
+tone,--
+
+“Will you not wait till I ring for my carriage?”
+
+“I would rather go at once.”
+
+Nothing was left but for him to comply with her wishes; and as she
+walked out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized a
+vial from his office, and hurried after her. At this juncture the storm
+was frightful. Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectually
+to move on. Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gusts
+carried his breath away. In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, who
+was making small progress.
+
+“Will you take my arm?” he asked quietly. “It will help you.”
+
+She drew back in alarm.
+
+“There is no necessity,” he indistinctly heard in the roar of the gale.
+
+He kept near enough to her, however, to see her. All along this block of
+Van Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees;
+they tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind. A violent gust
+almost took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly for
+Dr. Kemp to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back. At the same
+moment, one of the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash upon
+them. By a great effort he had turned and, holding her before him,
+received the greater blow upon his back.
+
+“Are you hurt?” he asked, bending his head so near her face that his
+short wet beard brushed her cheek.
+
+“No,” she said, wresting herself from him; “I thank you--but you have
+hurt yourself.”
+
+“You are mistaken,” he said abruptly. “Take my arm, please.”
+
+He did not wait for her yea or nay; but drawing her arm through his,
+he strode on in silence, holding it closely pinioned against his heart.
+When they reached the house, they were both white and breathless. Nora
+opened the door for them.
+
+“Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!” she cried, wringing her hands as the
+doctor threw off his coat and hat; “all she does now is to stare at us
+with her teeth all chattering.”
+
+The doctor sprang up three steps at a time, Ruth quickly following.
+
+The room was in a blaze of light; Mrs. Levice sat up in bed, her
+large dark eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowy
+counterpane.
+
+Kemp looked like a pillar of strength as he came up to the bedside.
+
+“Well?” he said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.
+
+As he took her hand in his, she strove to speak; but the sobbing result
+was painful.
+
+“None of that!” he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders. “If
+you try, you can stop this. Now see, I am holding you. Look at me, and
+you will understand you must quiet down.”
+
+He used his well-known power of magnetism. Gradually the quivering
+shoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and he
+gently laid her head upon the pillow.
+
+“Don’t go away!” she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move from
+her.
+
+“No, indeed,” he replied in a bright, soothing voice; “see, I am going
+to give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in a
+short time. Now then, open your mouth.”
+
+“But, Doctor, I wish to speak to you.”
+
+“After you have taken this and rested awhile.”
+
+“And you won’t go away?” she persisted.
+
+“I shall stay right here.” She obediently swallowed the dose; and as he
+drew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her face
+relaxed.
+
+“It is so strengthening to have you here,” she murmured.
+
+“It will be more strengthening for you to close your eyes.”
+
+Ruth, who still stood in her wet clothes, lowered the lights.
+
+“You had better change your clothes immediately,” said Kemp, in a low
+tone from his chair.
+
+She did not look at him, but at his voice she left the room.
+
+Quickly removing her wet garments, she slipped into a loose, dull
+red gown. As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenly
+remembered that his feet might be wet. She lit a candle, and going into
+Louis’s room, appropriated a pair of slippers that stood in his closet.
+
+It was now past midnight; but no thought of sleep occurred to her till,
+entering her mother’s room, she perceived in the semi-darkness that the
+doctor lay back with closed eyes. He was not asleep, however, for he
+opened his eyes at her light footfall. She looked very beautiful in her
+unconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness of
+her face.
+
+“Will you put them on?” she asked in a hushed voice, holding out the
+slippers.
+
+“You are very kind,” he replied, looking with hungry eyes into her face.
+Seeing that he did not take them, she placed them on the carpet. The
+action recalled him to himself, and wishing to detain her, he said,--
+
+“Do they belong to a man as big as I?”
+
+“They are my cousin’s.”
+
+She had half turned to leave.
+
+“Ah,” he returned, “and will he relish the idea of my standing in his
+shoes?”
+
+No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth’s thoughts gave one miserable
+bound to Arnold.
+
+“He will be pleased to add to your comfort,” spoke Mrs. Levice from the
+bed, thus saving Ruth an answer.
+
+“I do not need them,” said the doctor, turning to her swiftly; “and,
+Mrs. Levice, if you do not go to sleep, I shall leave.”
+
+“I want Ruth to stay in the room,” she murmured petulantly.
+
+“Very well, Mamma,” said Ruth, wearily, seating herself in a low,
+soft-cushioned chair in a remote corner. She knew how to sit perfectly
+still. It was a peculiar situation,--the mother, who had been the means
+of drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and he
+and she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulf
+between them, sat there without a word.
+
+Ruth’s temples throbbed painfully; she felt weak and tired; toward
+morning she sank into a heavy sleep. Kemp did not sleep; he kept his
+face turned from her, trying to quiet his thoughts with the dull lullaby
+of the rain. But he knew when she slept; his gaze wandered searchingly
+around the room till it fell upon a slumber-robe thrown across a divan.
+He arose softly and picked it up; his light step made no sound in the
+soft carpet. As he came up to Ruth, he saw with an inward groan the
+change upon her sleeping face. Great, dark shadows lay about her eyes
+not caused by the curling lashes; her mouth drooped pathetically at the
+corners; her temples, from which her soft hair was rolled, showed the
+blue veins; he would have given much to touch her hair with his hand,
+but he laid the cover over her shoulders without touching her, and
+tucked it lightly about her knees and feet. Then he went back to his
+chair. It was five o’clock before either mother or daughter opened her
+eyes; they started up almost simultaneously. Ruth noticed the warm robe
+about her, and her eyes sped to the doctor. He, however, was speaking to
+Mrs. Levice, who in the dim light looked pale but calm.
+
+“I feel perfectly well,” she was saying, “and shall get up immediately.”
+
+“Where is the necessity?” he inquired. “Lie still to-day; it is not bad
+weather for staying in bed.”
+
+“Did not Ruth tell you?”
+
+“Tell me?” he repeated in surprise.
+
+“Of the cause of this attack?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then I must. Briefly, my husband has been in New York for the past
+five weeks; he suffered there with acute pneumonia for a week, told us
+nothing, but hurried home as soon as possible,--too soon, I suppose. Day
+before yesterday my nephew received a letter stating these facts, and,
+later, a telegram asking him to come to Reno, where he was delayed,
+feeling too ill to go farther alone. The first I heard of this was last
+night, when Ruth received this telegram from Louis.” She handed it to
+him.
+
+As Kemp read, an unmistakable gravity settled on his face. As he was
+folding the paper thoughtfully, Mrs. Levice addressed him again in her
+unfamiliar, calm voice,--
+
+“Will you please explain what he means by your understanding?”
+
+“Yes; I suppose it is expedient for me to tell you at once,” he said
+slowly, reseating himself and pausing as if trying to recall something.
+
+“Last year,” he began, “probably as early as February, your husband came
+to me complaining of a cough that annoyed him nights and mornings;
+he further told me that when he felt it coming, he went to another
+apartment so as not to disturb you. I examined him, and found he was
+suffering with the first stages of asthma, and that one of his lungs
+was slightly diseased already. I treated him and gave him directions for
+living carefully. You knew nothing of this?”
+
+“Nothing,” she answered hoarsely.
+
+“Well,” he went on gently, “there was no cause for worry; if checked in
+time, a man may live to second childhood with asthma, and the loss of a
+small portion of a lung is not necessarily fatal. He knew this, and was
+mending slowly; I examined him several times and found no increase in
+the loss of tissue, while he told me the cough was not so troublesome.”
+
+“But for some weeks before he left,” said Mrs. Levice, “he coughed every
+morning and night. When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed me
+out of the idea. How did you find him before he left?”
+
+“I have not seen Mr. Levice for some months,” he replied gravely.
+
+Mrs. Levice eyed him questioningly, but he offered no explanation.
+
+“Then do you think,” she continued, “that this asthma made the pneumonia
+more dangerous?”
+
+“Undoubtedly.”
+
+Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of her
+voice and aspect remained unbroken.
+
+“Thank you,” she said, “for telling me so candidly. Then will you be
+here to-morrow morning?”
+
+“I shall manage to meet him at Oakland with a closed carriage.”
+
+“May I go with you?”
+
+“Pardon me; but it will be best for you to receive him quietly at
+home. There must be nothing whatever to disturb him. Have all ready,
+especially yourself.”
+
+“I understand,” she said. “And now, Doctor, let me thank you for your
+kindness to me;” she held out both hands. “Will you let Ruth show you to
+a room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?”
+
+“I thank you; it is impossible,” he replied, looking at his watch. “I
+shall hurry home now. Good-morning, Mrs. Levice. There may be small
+cause for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the more
+you can help him.”
+
+He turned from her.
+
+“Ruth, will you see the doctor to the door?”
+
+She followed him down the broad staircase, as in former days, but with
+a difference. Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, and
+they had descended together, talking pleasantly. Now not a word was
+said till he had put on his heavy outer coat. As he laid his hand on the
+knob, Ruth spoke,--
+
+“Is there anything I can do for my father, do you think?”
+
+She started as he turned a tired, haggard face to hers.
+
+“I can think of nothing but to have his bed in readiness and complete
+quiet about the house.”
+
+“Yes; and--and do you think there is any danger?”
+
+“No, no! at least, I hope not. I shall be able to tell better when I see
+him. Is there anything I can do for you?”
+
+She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the light
+of his tender eyes. He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed it
+quickly behind him.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIV
+
+The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco this
+Thursday morning. After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a day
+in spring. Young girls tripped forth “in their figures,” as the French
+have it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genial
+wooing of sunbeams.
+
+Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion. Neither Ruth nor her
+mother felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her position
+in her husband’s room, Ruth wandered downstairs. The silence seemed
+vocal with her fears.
+
+“So I tell ye’s two,” remarked the cook as her young mistress passed
+from the kitchen, “that darter and father is more than kin, they is
+soul-kin, if ye know what that means; an’ the boss’s girl do love him
+more’n seven times seven children which such a man-angel should ‘a’
+had.” For the “boss” was to those who served him “little lower than the
+angels;” and their prayers the night before had held an eloquent appeal
+for his welfare.
+
+Ruth, with her face against the window, watched in sickening anxiety.
+She knew they were not to be expected for some time, but it was better
+to stand here than in the fear-haunted background.
+
+Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stood
+before the gate. She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned for
+one second blindly against the wall.
+
+“Tell my mother they have come,” she gasped to the maid, who had entered
+the hall.
+
+Then she looked out. Two men were carrying one between them up the walk.
+As they came nearer, she saw how it was. That bundled-up figure was her
+father’s; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father’s; but as
+they carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, panting
+breaths came to her, were they her father’s too? No need, Ruth, to
+rush forward and vainly implore some power to tear from yourself the
+respiration withheld from him. Air, air! So, man, so; one step more and
+then relief. Ah!
+
+She paused in agony at the foot of the stairs as the closing door shut
+out the dreadful sound. We never value our blessings till we have lost
+them; who thinks it a boon to be able to breathe without thinking of the
+action?
+
+He had not seen her; his eyes had been closed as if in exhaustion as
+they gently helped him along, and she had understood at once that the
+only thing to be thought of was, by some manner of means, to remove the
+choking obstacle from his lungs. Oh, to be able in her young strength
+to hold the weak, loved form in her arms and breathe into him her
+overflowing life-breath! She walked upstairs presently; he would be
+expecting her. As she reached the upper landing, Kemp came from the
+room, closing the door behind him. His bearing revealed a gravity she
+had never witnessed before. In his tightly buttoned morning-suit, with
+the small white tie at his throat, he might have been officiating at
+some solemn ceremonial. He stood still as Ruth confronted him at the
+head of the stairs, and met her lovely, miserable eyes with a look of
+sympathy. She essayed to speak, but succeeded only in gazing at him in
+speechless entreaty.
+
+“Yes, I know,” he responded to her silent appeal; “you were shocked at
+what you heard: it was the asthma that has completely overpowered him.
+His illness has made him extremely weak.”
+
+“And you think--”
+
+“We must wait till he has rested; the trip was severe for one in his
+condition.”
+
+“Tell me the truth, please, with no reservations; is there danger?”
+
+Her eager, abrupt questions told clearly what she suffered.
+
+“He has never had any serious illness; if the asthma has not overleaped
+itself, we have much to hope for.”
+
+The intended consolation conveyed a contrary admission which she
+immediately grasped.
+
+“That means--the worst,” she said, her clasped fingers speaking the
+language of despair. “Oh, Doctor, you who know so much, can’t you help
+him? Think, think of everything; there must be something! Only do your
+best, do your utmost; you will, won’t you?”
+
+His deep, grave eyes answered her silently as he took both her little
+clasped hands in his one strong one, saying simply,--
+
+“Trust me, but only so far as lies within my human power. He is somewhat
+eased, and asks for you. Look at your mother: she is surpassing herself;
+if your love for him can achieve one half such a conquest, you will but
+be making good your inheritance. I shall be in again at one, and will
+send some medicines up at once.” He ended in his usual businesslike
+tone, and walked hastily downstairs.
+
+There was perfect quiet in the room as Ruth entered. Propped high by
+many pillows, Jules Levice lay in his bed; his wife’s arm was about him;
+his head rested on her bosom; with her one disengaged hand she smoothed
+his white hair. Never was the difference between them more marked than
+now, when her beautiful face shone above his, which had the touch of the
+destroyer already upon it; never was the love between them more marked
+than now, when he leaned in his weakness upon her who had never failed
+him in all their wedded years.
+
+His eyes were half closed as if in rest; but he heard her enter, and
+Mrs. Levice felt the tremor that thrilled him as Ruth approached.
+
+“My child.”
+
+The softly whispered love-name of old made her tremble; she smiled
+through her tears, but when his feeble arms strove to draw her to him,
+she stooped, and laying them about her neck, placed her cheek upon his.
+For some minutes these three remained knit in a close embrace; love,
+strong and tender, spoke and answered in that silence.
+
+“It is good to be at home,” he said, speaking with difficulty.
+
+“It was not home without you, dear,” murmured his wife, laying her lips
+softly upon his forehead. Ruth, kneeling beside the bed, noticed how
+loosely the dark signet-ring he wore hung upon his slender finger.
+
+“You look ill, my Ruth,” he said, after a pause. “Lay my head down,
+Esther love; you must be tired. Sit before me, dear, I want to see your
+two faces together.”
+
+His gaunt eyes flitted from one to the other.
+
+“It is a fair picture to take with one,” he whispered.
+
+“To keep with one,” softly trembled his wife’s voice; his eyes met hers
+in a commiserating smile.
+
+Suddenly he started up.
+
+“Ruth,” he gasped, “will you go to Louis? He must be worn out.”
+
+She left the room hurriedly. Her faint knock was not immediately
+answered, and she called softly; receiving no reply, she turned the
+knob, which yielded to her hand. Sunbeams danced merrily about the room
+of the young man, who sat in their light in a dejected attitude. He
+evidently had made no change in his toilet; and as Ruth stood
+unnoticed beside him, her eyes wandered over his gray, unshaven face,
+travel-stained and weary to a degree. She laid her hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+“Louis,” she called gently.
+
+He shook under her touch, but made no further sign that he knew of her
+presence.
+
+“You must be so tired, Louis,” she continued sympathetically.
+
+It may have been the words, it may have been the tone, it may have been
+that she touched some hidden thought, for suddenly, without premonition,
+his breast heaved, and he sobbed heavily as only a man can sob.
+
+She started back in pain. That such emotion could so unstring Louis
+Arnold was a marvel. It did not last long; and as he rose from his chair
+he spoke in his accustomed, quiet tone.
+
+“Forgive my unmanliness,” he said; “it was kind of you to come to me.”
+
+“You look very ill, Louis; can’t I bring you something to refresh you,
+or will you lie down?”
+
+“We shall see; is there anything you wish to ask me?
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+After a pause he said,--
+
+“You must not be hopeless; he is in good hands, and everything that can
+be done will be done. Is he resting now?”
+
+“Yes; if to breathe like that is to rest. Oh, Louis, when I think how
+for months he has suffered alone, it almost drives me crazy.”
+
+“Why think of it, then? Or, if you must, remember that in his surpassing
+unselfishness he saved you much anxiety; for you could not have helped
+him.”
+
+“Not with our sympathy?”
+
+“Not him, Ruth; to know that you suffered for him was--would have been
+his crowning sorrow. Is there anything I can do now?”
+
+“No, only think of yourself for a moment; perhaps you can rest a little,
+for you need it, dear.”
+
+A flame of color burned in his cheek at the unusual endearment.
+
+“I shall bring you a cup of tea presently,” she said as she left him.
+
+The morning passed into afternoon. Silence hung upon the house. A card
+had been pinned under the door-bell; and the many friends, who in
+the short time since the sick man’s arrival had heard of his illness,
+dropped in quietly and left as they came.
+
+Dr. Kemp came in after luncheon. Mr. Levice was sleeping,--in all truth,
+one could say easily, but the doctor counted much from the rest. He
+expected Dr. H----- for a consultation. This he had done as a voucher
+and a sort of comforting assurance that nothing would be left undone.
+Dr. H----- came in blandly; he went out gravely. There was little to be
+said.
+
+Kemp walked thoughtfully upstairs after his colleague had left, and went
+straight to Arnold’s room. The freedom of the house was his; he seemed
+to have established himself here simply through his earnestness and
+devotion.
+
+“Mr. Arnold,” he said to the Frenchman, who quickly rose from his desk,
+“I want you to prepare your aunt and your cousin for the worst. You
+know this; but if he should have a spell of coughing, the end might be
+sudden.”
+
+A cold pallor overspread Louis’s face at the confirmation of his secret
+fears.
+
+He bowed slightly and cleared his throat before answering.
+
+“There will be no necessity,” he said; “my uncle intends doing so
+himself.”
+
+“He must not hasten it by excitement,” said Kemp, moving toward the
+door.
+
+“That is unavoidable,” returned Arnold. “You must know he had an object
+in hurrying home.”
+
+“I did not know; but I shall prevent any unnecessary effort to speak. If
+you can do this for him, will you not?”
+
+“I cannot.”
+
+“And you know what it is in detail?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“Then for his sake--”
+
+“And for the others, he must be allowed to speak.”
+
+Kemp regarded him steadily, wondering wherein lay the impression of
+concealed power which emanated from him. He left the room without
+another word.
+
+“Dr. H----- must have gone to school with you,” panted Levice, as Dr.
+Kemp entered; “even his eyes have been educated to express the same
+feeling; except for a little--”
+
+“There, there,” quieted Kemp; “don’t exhaust yourself. Miss Levice, that
+fan, please. A little higher? How’s that?”
+
+“Do not go, Doctor,” he said feebly; “I have something to say, to do,
+and you--I want you--give me something--I must say it now. Esther, where
+are you?”
+
+“Here, love.”
+
+“Mr. Levice, you must not talk now,” put in Kemp, authoritatively;
+“whatever you have to say will last till morning.”
+
+“And I?”
+
+“And you. Now go to sleep.”
+
+Mrs. Levice followed him to the door.
+
+“You spoke just now of a nurse,” she said through her pale lips; “I
+shall not want one: I alone can nurse him.”
+
+“There is much required; I doubt if you are strong enough.”
+
+“I am strong.”
+
+He clasped her hand in assent; he could not deny her.
+
+“I shall come in and stay with you to-night,” he said simply.
+
+“You. Why should you?”
+
+“Because I too love him.”
+
+Her mouth trembled and the lines of her face quivered, but she drew her
+hand quickly over it.
+
+Kemp gave one sharp glance over to the bed; Ruth had laid her head
+beside her father’s and held his hand. In such a house, in every Jewish
+house, one finds the best nurses in the family.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXV
+
+Shafts of pale sunlight darted into the room and rested on Mr. Levice’s
+hair, covering it with a silver glory,--they trailed along the silken
+coverlet, but stopped there; one little beam strayed slowly, and almost
+as if with intention, toward Arnold, seated near the foot of the bed.
+Ruth, lovely in her pallor, sat near him; Mrs. Levice, on the other
+side of the bed, leaned back in her chair placed close to her husband’s
+pillow; more remote, though inadvertently so, sat Dr. Kemp. It was by
+Mr. Levice’s desire that these four had assembled here.
+
+He was sitting up, supported by many pillows; his face was hollow and
+colorless; his hands lay listlessly upon the counterpane. No one touches
+him; bathed in sunlight, as he was, the others seemed in shadow. When he
+spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, but it was distinctly audible
+to the four intent listeners; only the clock seemed to accompany his
+staccato speech, running a race, as it were, with his failing strength.
+
+“It is a beautiful world,” he said dreamily, “a very beautiful world;”
+ the sunbeams kissed his pale hands as if thanking him; no one stirred,
+letting the old man take his time. Finally he realized that all were
+waiting for him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face.
+
+“Dr. Kemp,” he began, “I have something to say to you,--to you in
+particular, and to my daughter Ruth. My wife and nephew know in brief
+what I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful event
+that happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see the
+necessity, for my reverting to it at all.”
+
+Every one’s eyes rested upon him,--that is, all but Arnold’s,
+which seemed holding some secret communion with the cupids on the
+ceiling,--and the look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth’s face
+was unnoticed.
+
+“In all my long, diversified life,” he went on, “I had never suffered as
+I did after she told me her decision,--for in all those years no one
+had ever been made to suffer through me; that is, so far as I knew.
+Unconsciously, or in anger, I may have hurt many, but never, as in
+this case, with knowledge aforethought,--when the blow fell upon my own
+child. You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave no
+thought to you. She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands held
+out, and with a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, ‘Father, you are
+right; I could not be happy with this man.’ At the moment I believed
+her, thinking she had adopted my views; but with all her bravery, her
+real feelings conquered her, and I saw. Not that she had spoken untruly,
+but she had implied the truth only in part, I knew my child loved me,
+and she meant honestly that my pain would rob her of perfect happiness
+with you,--my pain would form an eclipse strong enough to darken
+everything. Do you think this knowledge made me glad or proud? Do you
+know how love, that in the withholding justifies itself, suffers from
+the pain inflicted? But I said, ‘After all, it is as I think; she
+will thank me for it some day.’ I was not altogether selfish, please
+remember. Then, as I saw her silent wrestling, came distrust of myself;
+I remembered I was pitted against two, younger and no more fallible than
+myself. As soon as doubt of myself attacked me, I strove to look on
+the other side; I strove to rid myself of the old prejudices, the old
+superstitions, the old narrowness of faith; it was useless,--I was too
+old, and my prejudices had become part of me. It was in this state of
+perturbation that I had gone one day up to the top floor of the Palace
+Hotel. Thank you, Doctor.”
+
+The latter had quietly risen and administered a stimulant. As he resumed
+his seat, Levice continued:
+
+“I was seated at a window overlooking Market Street. Below me surged a
+black mass of crowding, jostling, hurrying beings, so far removed they
+seemed like little dots, each as large and no larger than his fellows.
+Above them stretched the same blue arch of heaven, they breathed the
+same air, trod in each other’s footsteps; and yet I knew they were all
+so different,--ignorance walked with enlightenment, vice with virtue,
+rich with poor, low with high,--but I felt, poised thus above them,
+that they were creatures of the same God. Go once thus, and you will
+understand the feeling. And so I judged these aliens. Which was greater;
+which was less? This one, who from birth and inheritance is able
+to stand the equal of any one, or this one, who through birth and
+inheritance blinks blindly at the good and beautiful? Character and
+circumstance are not altogether of our own making; they are, to a
+great degree, results of inherited tendencies over which we have no
+control,--accidents of birthplace, in the choosing of which we had no
+voice. The high in the world do not shine altogether by their own light,
+not do the lowly grovel altogether in their own debasement,--I felt the
+excuse for humanity. I was overwhelmed with one feeling,--only God
+can weigh such circumstantial evidence; we, in our little knowledge of
+results, pronounce sentence, but final judgment is reserved for a higher
+court, that sees the cross-purposes in which we are blindly caught.
+So with everything. Below me prayed Christian and Jew, Mohammedan and
+Brahmin, idolater and agnostic. Why was one man different in this way
+from his fellows? Because he was born so, because his parents were so,
+because he was bred so, because it seemed natural and convenient to
+remain so,--custom and environment had made his religion. Because Jesus
+Christ dared to attack their existing customs and beliefs, the Jews,
+then powerful, first reviled, then feared, then slew him; because the
+Jews could not honestly say, ‘I believe this man to be a God,’ they were
+hurled from their eminence and dragged, living, for centuries in the
+dust. And yet why? Because God withheld and still withholds from this
+little band the power of believing in Christ as his son. Christians call
+this a wilful weakness; Jews call it strength. After all, who is to
+be praised or blamed for it? God. Then instead of beating the Jew, and
+instead of sneering at the Christian, let each pity the other; because
+one, I know not which, is weak, and because the other, I know not which,
+is strong. I left the building; I came upon the street. I felt like
+saluting every one as my brother. A little ragged child touched me,
+and as I laid my hand upon her curly head, the thrill of humanity shot
+through me.
+
+“It was not until I went to New York that the feelings I then
+experienced took on a definite shape. There, removed from my old haunts,
+I wandered alone when I could. Then I thought of you, my friend, of
+you, my child, and beside you I was pitiful,--pitiful, because in my
+narrowness I had thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishing
+restriction. I resolved to be practical; I have been accused of being
+a dreamer. I grasped your two images before me and drew parallels.
+Socially each was as high as the other. Mentally the woman was as strong
+in her sphere as the man was in his. Physically both were perfect types
+of pure, healthy blood. Morally both were irreproachable. Religiously
+each held a broad love for God and man. I stood convicted; I was in
+the position of a blind fool who, with a beautiful picture before him,
+fastens his critical, condemning gaze upon a rusting nail in the rusting
+wall behind,--a nail even now loosened, and which in another generation
+will be displaced. Yet what was I to do? Come back and tell you that I
+had been needlessly cruel? What would that avail? True, I might make you
+believe that I no longer thought marriage between you wrong; but that
+would not remove the fact that the world, which so easily makes us happy
+or otherwise, did not see as I saw. In this vortex I was stricken ill.
+All the while I wanted to hasten to you, to tell you how it was with
+me, and it seemed as if I never could get to you. ‘Is this Nemesis,’ I
+thought, ‘or divine interposition?’ So I struggled till Louis came. Then
+all was easier. I told him everything and said, ‘Louis, what shall
+I do?’ ‘only this,’ he answered simply: ‘tell them that their happy
+marriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the world will be as
+nothing to these two who love each other.’”
+
+The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the
+coverlet and gave a leap upon Louis’s shoulder like an angle’s finger,
+but his gaze remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling. Ruth had
+covered her face with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with
+her eyes on Louis. Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting
+Levice’s eyes.
+
+“I believe--and my wife believes,” said Levice, heavily, as if the words
+were so many burdens, “that our child will be happy only as your wife,
+and that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this
+happiness. Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter.
+Ruth!”
+
+She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
+
+“Little one,” he faltered, “I have been very cruel in my ignorance.”
+
+“Do not think of this, Father,” she whispered.
+
+“I must,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Kemp, your hand, please.”
+
+He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as
+Kemp’s large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his
+head, kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
+
+“There is one thing more,” he said. “At the utmost I have but a few days
+to live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my
+Ruth, as I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may be
+permitted sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a good
+girl, and now I am going to ask you to do one thing more--you also,
+Doctor. Will you be married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless
+your new life? Will you let me see this? And listen,--will you let the
+world know that you were married with my sanction, and did not have to
+wait till the old man was dead? Will you do this for me, my dear ones?”
+
+“Will you, Ruth?” asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
+
+Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father’s eager eyes.
+
+“I will,” she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room
+made it audible.
+
+Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
+
+“Always doing things for her ugly old father,” he murmured; “this time
+giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love.”
+
+“Oh, hush, my darling.”
+
+“You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would
+like to have.”
+
+“I think not,” he decided, noting with a pang the pale, weary face of
+Levice; “we will have it all as quiet as possible. You must rest now,
+and leave everything to me. Would you prefer Dr. Stephens or a justice?”
+
+“Either. Dr. Stephens is a good man, whom I know, however; and one good
+man with the legal right is as good as another to marry you.”
+
+There was little more said then. Kemp turned to Mrs. Levice and raised
+her hand to his lips. Arnold confronted him with a pale, smiling face;
+the two men wrung each other’s hands, passing out together immediately
+after.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVI
+
+Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice. The
+latter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head lay
+back among the pillows as if the support were grateful. Still his
+eager eyes were keenly fastened upon the close-lipped mouth and broad,
+speaking brow of the minister who spoke so quietly and pleasantly. Kemp,
+looking pale and handsome, answered fitfully when appealed to, and kept
+an expectant eye upon the door. When Ruth entered, he went forward to
+meet her, drawing her arm through his. They had had no word together,
+no meeting of any kind but right here in the morning; and now, as she
+walked toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes was
+all for her father. Thought could hold no rival for him that day.
+
+“This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens,” said Kemp, presenting them. A swift
+look of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman’s beetle-brows as
+he bent over her hand. Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughter
+of little Jules Levice? Where did she get that pure Madonna face, that
+regal bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth? The explanation was
+sufficient when Mrs. Levice entered. They stood talking, not much, but
+in that wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking. They
+were waiting for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of pale
+heliotropes. He always looked well and in character when dressed for
+some social event; it was as if he were made for this style of dress,
+not the style for him. The delicate pink of his cheeks looked more like
+the damask skin of a young girl than ever; his eyes, however, behind
+their glasses, were veiled. As he handed Ruth the flowers, he said,--
+
+“I asked the doctor to allow me to give you these. Will you hold them
+with my love?”
+
+“They are both very dear to me,” she replied, raising the flowers to her
+lips.
+
+Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was being
+performed. It was a striking picture, and one not likely to be
+forgotten. Levice’s eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as he
+looked at his daughter,--for never had she looked as to-day in her
+simple white gown, her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream;
+standing next to Kemp, the well-mated forms were noticeable. Even
+Arnold, with his heart like a crushed ball of lead, acknowledged it
+in bitter resignation. For him the scene was one of those silent,
+purgatorial moments that are approached with senses steeled and thought
+held in a vice. To the others it passed, as if it had happened in a
+dream. Even when Kemp stooped and pressed his lips for the first time
+upon his wife’s, the real meaning of what had taken place seemed far
+away to Ruth; the present held but one thing in prominence,--the pale
+face upon the pillow. She felt her mother’s arms around her; she knew
+that Louis had raised her hand to his lips, that she had drawn his head
+down and kissed him, that Dr. Kemp was standing silently beside her,
+that the minister had spoken some gravely pleasant words; but all the
+while she wanted to tear herself away from it all and fold that eager,
+loving, dying face close to hers. She was allowed to do so finally; and
+when she was drawn into the outstretched arms, there was only the long
+silence of love.
+
+Kemp had left the room with Dr. Stephens, having a further favor to
+intrust to him. The short announcement of this marriage, which Dr.
+Stephens gave for insertion in the evening papers, created a world of
+talk.
+
+When Kemp re-entered, Levice called him to him, holding out his hand.
+The doctor grasped it in that firm clasp which was always a tonic.
+
+“Will you kneel?” asked Levice; Kemp knelt beside his wife, and the old
+father blessed them in the words that held a double solemnity now:--
+
+“‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+“‘The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.
+
+“‘The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace.’”
+
+“I think if you don’t mind, dear, I shall close my eyes now,” he said as
+they arose.
+
+Ruth moved about, closing the blinds.
+
+“Don’t close out all the sun,” said her father; “I like it,--it is an
+old friend. After all, I don’t think I’ll sleep; let me lie here and
+look at you all awhile. Louis, my boy, must you go?”
+
+“Oh, no,” he replied, turning back from the door and gliding into a
+chair.
+
+“Thank you; and now don’t think of me. Go on talking; it will be a
+foretaste of something better to lie here and listen. Esther, are you
+cold? I felt a shudder go through your hand, love. Ruth, give your
+mother a shawl; don’t forget that sometimes some one should see that
+your mother is not cold. Just talk, will you?”
+
+So they talked,--that is, the men did. Their grave, deep voices and
+the heavily breathing of the invalid were the only sounds in the room.
+Finally, as the twilight stole in, it was quite still. Levice had
+dropped into a sort of stupor. Kemp arose then.
+
+“I shall be back presently,” he said, addressing Mrs. Levice, who
+started perceptibly as he spoke. “I have some few directions to give to
+my man that I entirely forgot.”
+
+“Could not we send some one? You must not stay away now.”
+
+“I shall return immediately. Mr. Levice does not need me while he
+sleeps, and these instructions are important. Don’t stir, Arnold; I know
+my way out.”
+
+Nevertheless Arnold accompanied him to the door. Ruth gave little heed
+to their movements. Her agitated heart had grasped the fact that the
+lines upon her father’s face had grown weaker and paler, his breathing
+shorter and more rasping; when she passed him and touched his hand, it
+seemed cold and lifeless.
+
+At nine the doctor came in again; the only appreciable difference in his
+going or coming was that no one rose or made any formal remarks. He
+went up to the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping head. Mrs. Levice
+moved her chair slightly as he seated himself on the edge of the bed
+and took Levice’s hand. Ruth, watching him with wide, distended eyes,
+thought he would never drop it. Her senses, sharpened by suffering, read
+every change on his face. As he withdrew his hand, she gave one long,
+involuntary moan. He turned quickly to her.
+
+“What is it?” he asked, his grave eyes scanning her anxiously.
+
+“Nothing,” she responded. It was the first word she had spoken to him
+since the afternoon ceremony. He turned back to Levice, lowering his ear
+to his chest. After a faint, almost imperceptible pause he arose.
+
+“I think you had all better lie down,” he said softly. “I shall sit with
+him, and you all need rest.”
+
+“I could not rest,” said Mrs. Levice; “this chair is all I require.”
+
+“If you would lie on the couch here,” he urged, “you would find the
+position easier.”
+
+“No, no! I could not.”
+
+He looked at Ruth.
+
+“I shall go by and by,” she answered.
+
+Arnold had long since gone out.
+
+Ruth’s by and by stretched on interminably. Kemp took up the “Argonaut”
+ that lay folded on the table. He did not read much, his eyes straying
+from the printed page before him to the “finis” writing itself slowly
+on Jules Levice’s face, and thence to Ruth’s pale profile; she was
+crying,--so quietly, though, that but for the visible tears an onlooker
+might not have known it; she herself did not,--her heart was silently
+overflowing.
+
+Toward morning Levice suddenly sprang up in bed and made as if to leap
+upon the floor. Kemp’s quick, strong hand held him back.
+
+“Where are you going?” he asked. Mrs. Levice stood instantly beside him.
+
+“Oh,” gasped Levice, his eyes falling upon her, “I wanted to get home;
+but it is all right now. Is the child in bed, Esther?”
+
+“Here she is; lie still, Jules; you know you are ill.”
+
+“But not now. Ah, Kemp, I can get up now; I am quite well, you know.”
+
+“Wait till morning,” he resisted, humoring this inevitable idiosyncrasy.
+
+“But it is morning now; and I feel so light and well. Open the shutters,
+Ruth; see, Esther; a beautiful day.”
+
+It was quite dark with the darkness that immediately precedes dawn;
+the windows were bespangled with the distillations of the night, which
+gleamed as the light fell on them.
+
+Mrs. Levice seated herself beside him.
+
+“It is very early, Jules,” she said, smiling with hope, not knowing that
+this deceptive feeling was but the rose-flush of the sinking sun; “but
+if you feel well when day breaks you can get up, can’t he Doctor?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Levice lay back with closed eyes for some minutes. A quivering smile
+crossed his face and his eyes opened.
+
+“Were you singing that song just now, Ruth, my angel?”
+
+“What son, Father dear?”
+
+“That--‘Adieu,--adieu--pays--amours’--we sang it--you know--when we left
+home together--my mother said--I was too small--too small--and--too--”
+
+Ruth looked around wildly for Kemp. He had left the room; she must go
+for him. As she came into the hall, she saw him and Louis hurriedly
+advancing up the corridor. Seeing her, they reached her side in a
+breath.
+
+“Go,” she whispered through pale lips; “he is breathing with that--”
+
+Kemp laid his hand upon her shoulder.
+
+“Stay here a second; it will be quite peaceful.”
+
+She looked at him in agony and walked blindly in after Louis.
+
+He was lying as they had left him, with Mrs. Levice’s hand in his.
+
+“Keep tight hold, darling,” the rattling voice was saying. “Don’t take
+it off till--another takes it--it will not be hard then.” Suddenly he
+saw Louis standing pale and straight at the foot of the bed.
+
+“My good boy,” he faltered, “my good boy, God will bless--” His eyes
+closed again; paler and paler grew his face.
+
+“Father!” cried Ruth in agony.
+
+He looked toward her smiling.
+
+“The sweetest word,” he murmured; “it was--my glory.”
+
+Silence. A soul is passing; a simple, loving soul, giving no trouble in
+its passage; dropping the toils, expanding with infinity. Not utterly
+gone; immortality is assured us in the hearts that have touched ours.
+
+Silence. A shadow falls, and Jules Levice’s work is done; and the first
+sunbeams crept about him, lay at his feet a moment, touched the quiet
+hands, fell on the head like a benediction, and rested there.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVII
+
+“I thought you would be quiet at this hour,” said Rose Delano, seating
+herself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening after
+the funeral. They looked so different even in the waning light,--Ruth
+in soft black, her white face shining like a lily above her sombre gown,
+Rose, like a bright firefly, perched on a cricket, her cheeks rosy, her
+eyes sparkling from walking against the sharp, cold wind.
+
+“We are always quiet now,” she answered softly; “friends come and go,
+but we are very quiet. It does me good to see you, Rosebud.”
+
+“Does it?” her sweet eyes smiled happily. “I was longing to drop in if
+only to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where to
+find you.”
+
+“Why, where could I be but here?”
+
+“I thought possibly you had removed to your husband’s home.”
+
+For a second Ruth looked at her wonderingly; then the slow rich color
+mounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was one
+rosy cloud.
+
+“No; I have stayed right on.”
+
+“I saw the doctor to-day,” she chatted. “He looks pale; is he too busy?”
+
+“I do not know,--that is, I suppose so. How are the lessons, Rose?”
+
+“Everything is improving wonderfully; I am so happy, dear Mrs. Kemp, and
+what I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, I
+pray, fall on you two who have been so much to me. Miss Gwynne told me
+that to do good was your birthright. She said that the funeral, with its
+vast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippled
+of all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those who
+thought they knew him best. You should feel very proud with such sweet
+memories.”
+
+“Yes,” assented Ruth, her eyes quickly suffused with tears.
+
+They sat quietly thus for some time, till Rose, rising from her cricket,
+kissed her friend silently and departed.
+
+The waning light fell softly through the lace curtains, printing quaint
+arabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a rich
+yellow light. A carriage rolled up in front of the house. Dr. Kemp
+handed the reins to his man and alighted. He walked slowly up to the
+door. It was very still about the house in the evening twilight. He
+pushed his hat back on his head and looked up at the clear blue sky,
+as if the keen breeze were pleasant to his temples. Then with a quick
+motion, as though recalling his thoughts, he turned and rang the bell.
+The latchkey of the householder was not his.
+
+Ruth, sitting in the shadows, had scarcely heard the ring. She was
+absorbed in a new train of thought. Rose Delano was the first one who
+had clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married.
+She had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, looking
+at her grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would have
+called for congratulation. Rose, who knew only these two, naturally
+dwelt on their changed relations. Her husband! Her dormant love gave
+an exultant bound. Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; she
+sprang to her feet; the door opened, and he came in. He saw her standing
+faintly outlined in the dark.
+
+“Good-evening,” he said, coming slowly toward her with extended hand;
+“have you been quite well to-day?” He felt her fingers tremble in
+his close clasp, and let them fall slowly. “Bob sent you these early
+violets. Shall I light the gas?”
+
+“If you will.”
+
+He turned from her and rapidly filled the room with light.
+
+“Where is your mother?” he asked, turning toward her again. Her face was
+hidden in the violets.
+
+“Upstairs with Louis. They had something to arrange. Did you wish to see
+her?” To judge from Ruth’s manner, Kemp might have been a visitor.
+
+“No,” he replied. “If you will sit down, we can talk quietly till they
+come in.”
+
+As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in another
+before her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face. The
+faraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad days
+had been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong will
+every impulse for any closer recognition. But this new look,--what did
+it mean? In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen to
+his own cheeks.
+
+“I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day,” he observed; “shall I
+tell it to you?”
+
+“If it will not tire you.”
+
+Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see the
+look of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him.
+
+“Oh, no,” he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection. “I was
+coming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached the
+foot, when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with an
+eager light in his eyes. ‘Aren’t you Dr. Kemp?’ he asked breathlessly,
+like one who had been running. I recollected him the instant he raised
+his hat from his nimbus of golden hair. ‘Yes; and you are Will Tyrrell,’
+I answered promptly. ‘Why, how did you remember?’ he asked in surprise;
+‘you saw me only once.’ ‘Never mind; I remember that night,’ I answered.
+‘How is that baby sister of yours?’ ‘Oh, she’s all right,’ he replied
+dismissing the subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers. ‘I
+say, do you ever see Miss Levice nowadays?’ I looked at him with a
+half-smile, not knowing whether to set him right or not, when he finally
+blurted out, ‘She’s the finest girl I ever met. Do you know her well,
+Doctor?’ ‘Well,’ I answered, ‘I know her slightly,--she is my wife.’”
+
+He had told the little incident brightly; but as he came to the end, his
+voice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyes
+sought hers. Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended.
+
+“I said you were my wife,” he repeated softly, leaning forward, his
+hands grasping the chair-arms.
+
+“And what,” asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice,--“what did
+Will say?”
+
+“Who cared?” he asked, quickly moving closer to her; “do you?” He caught
+her hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingers
+with hers.
+
+“Ruth,” he asked below his breath, “have you forgotten entirely what we
+are to each other?”
+
+It was such a cruel lover’s act to make her face him thus, her bosom
+panting, her face changing from white to red and from red to white.
+
+“Have you, sweet love?” he insisted.
+
+“No,” she whispered, trying to turn her head from him.
+
+“No, who?”
+
+With an irrepressible movement she sprang up, pushing his hand from
+hers. He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fear
+overpowering him.
+
+“You mean,” he said quietly, “that you no longer love me,--say it now
+and have it over.”
+
+“Oh,” she cried in exquisite pain, “why do you tantalize me so--can’t
+you see that--”
+
+She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drew
+her to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers.
+
+A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down. Mrs. Levice entered
+first and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, saw
+too--nothing but Ruth standing encircled by her husband’s arm; her
+lovely face smiled into his, which looked down at her with an expression
+that drove every drop of blood from Arnold’s face. For a moment they
+were unseen; but when Ruth, who was the first to feel their presence,
+started from Kemp as if she had committed a crime, Arnold came forward
+entirely at his ease.
+
+Kemp met Mrs. Levice with outstretched hands and smiling eyes.
+
+“Good-evening, Mother,” he said; “we had just been speaking of you.”
+ Mrs. Levice looked into his deep, tender eyes, and raising her arm, drew
+his head down and kissed him.
+
+Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it with
+shy, sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her.
+Sorrow had softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, she
+wooed everybody by her manner.
+
+“What were you saying of me?” she asked, keeping Ruth’s hand in hers
+and looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his face
+radiant with gladness.
+
+“We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great house
+to our little one, till we find something better.”
+
+Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his back
+half turned, looking over a book.
+
+“It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now,” she said, her
+voice trembling slightly; “but I never could leave this house to
+strangers,--every room is too full of old associations, and sweet
+memories of him. Louis wants me to go down the coast with him soon,
+stopping for a month or so at Coronado. Go to your cottage meanwhile by
+yourselves; even I should be an intruder. There, Ruth, don’t I know? And
+when we come back, we shall see. It is all settled, isn’t it, Louis?”
+
+He turned around then.
+
+“Yes, I feel that I need a change of scene, and I should like to have
+her with me; you do not need her now.”
+
+Ruth looked at his careworn face, and said with tender solicitude,--
+
+“You are right, Louis.”
+
+And so it was decided.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
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diff --git a/1839-0.zip b/1839-0.zip
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Other Things Being Equal
+
+Author: Emma Wolf
+
+Release Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #1839]
+Last Updated: November 20, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Cantalupo, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Emma Wolf
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter XXIII </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter XXIV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter XXV </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter XXVI </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0027"> Chapter XXVII </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A humming-bird dipped through the air and lit upon the palm-tree just
+      below the open window; the long drowsy call of a crowing cock came from
+      afar off; the sun spun down in the subdued splendor of a hazy veil. It was
+      a dustless, hence an anomalous, summer&rsquo;s afternoon in San Francisco.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth Levice sat near the window, lazily rocking, her long lithe arms
+      clasped about her knees, her face a dream of the day. The seasons single
+      out their favorite moods: a violet of spring-time woos one, a dusky June
+      rose another; to-day the soft, languorous air had, unconsciously to her,
+      charmed the girl&rsquo;s waking dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So removed was she in spirit from her surroundings that she heard with an
+      obvious start a knock at the door. The knock was immediately followed by a
+      smiling, plump young woman, sparkling of eye, rosy of cheek, and
+      glistening with jewels and silk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here you are, Ruth,&rdquo; she exclaimed, kissing her heartily; whereupon she
+      sank into a chair, and threw back her bonnet-strings with an air of
+      relief. &ldquo;I came up here at once when the maid said your mother was out.
+      Where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out calling. You look heated, Jennie; let me fan you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks. How refreshing! Sandal-wood, is it not? Where is your father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is writing in the library. Do you wish to see him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no! I must see you alone. I am so glad Aunt Esther is out. Why
+      aren&rsquo;t you with her, Ruth? You should not let your mother go off alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young girl laughed in merry surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Jennie, you forgot that Mamma has been used all her life to going
+      out without me; it is only within the last few months that I have been her
+      companion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; replied her visitor, leaning back with a grim expression of
+      disapproval, &ldquo;and I think it the queerest arrangement I ever heard of. The
+      idea of a father having the sole care of a daughter up to her twenty-first
+      birthday, and then delivering her, like a piece of joint property, over to
+      her mother! Oh, I know that according to their lights it did not seem
+      absurd, but the very idea of it is contrary to nature. Of course we all
+      know that your father was peculiarly fitted to undertake your training,
+      and in this way your mother could more easily indulge her love of society;
+      but as it is, no wonder she is as jealous of your success in her realm as
+      your father was in his; no wonder she overdoes things to make up for lost
+      time. How do you like it, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; softly inquired her cousin, slowly waving the dainty fan, while a
+      smile lighted up the gravity of her face at this onslaught.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going out continually night after night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mamma likes it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cela va sans dire. But, Ruth,&mdash;stop fanning a minute, please,&mdash;I
+      want to know, candidly and seriously, would you mind giving it up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Candidly and seriously, I would do so to-day forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye-es; your father&rsquo;s daughter,&rdquo; said Mrs. Lewis, speaking more slowly,
+      her bright eyes noting the perfect repose of the young girl&rsquo;s person; &ldquo;and
+      yet you are having some quiet little conquests,&mdash;the golden apples of
+      your mother&rsquo;s Utopia. But to come to the point, do you realize that your
+      mother is very ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ill&mdash;my mother?&rdquo; The sudden look of consternation that scattered the
+      soft tranquillity of her face must have fully repaid Mrs. Lewis if she was
+      aiming at a sensation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, sit down. Don&rsquo;t be alarmed; you know she is out and apparently
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that Aunt Esther is nervous and hysterical. The other day at our
+      house she had such an attack of hysteria that I was obliged to call in a
+      neighboring doctor. She begged us not to mention it to either of you, and
+      then insisted on attending a meeting of some sort. However, I thought it
+      over and decided to let you know, as I consider it serious. I was afraid
+      to alarm Uncle, so I thought of telling you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Jennie; I shall speak to Father about it.&rdquo; The young girl&rsquo;s
+      tone was quite unagitated; but two pink spots on her usually colorless
+      cheeks betrayed her emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is right, dear. I hope you will forgive me if I seem meddlesome, but
+      Jo and I have noticed it for some time; and your father, by allowing this
+      continual gayety, seems to have overlooked what we find so sadly apparent.
+      Of course you have an engagement for to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we are going to a reception at the Merrills&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merrill? Christians?&rdquo; was the sharp reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The name speaks for itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does possess your parents to mix so much with Christians?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fellow-feeling, I suppose. We all dance and talk alike; and as we do not
+      hold services at receptions, wherein lies the difference?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is a difference; and the Christians know it as well as we Jewish
+      people. Not only do they know it, but they show it in countless ways; and
+      the difference, they think, is all to their credit. For my part, I always
+      feel as if they looked down on us, and I should like to prove to them how
+      we differ on that point. I have enough courage to let them know I consider
+      myself as good as the best of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that why you wear diamonds and silk on the street, Jennie?&rdquo; asked
+      Ruth, her serious tones implying no impudence, but carrying a refined
+      reproach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly. I wear them because I have them and like them. I see no harm in
+      wearing what is becoming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you think they look aggressive on the street? They attract
+      attention; and one hates to be conspicuous. I think they are only in place
+      at a gathering of friends of one&rsquo;s own social standing, where they do not
+      proclaim one&rsquo;s moneyed value.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier than before.
+      &ldquo;I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so. But I scarcely
+      think a little outward show of riches should make others feel they are
+      better because they do not care to make a display. Besides, to be less
+      personal, I don&rsquo;t think any Christian would care to put himself out to
+      meet a Jew of any description.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think it would depend a great deal both on Jew and Christian? I
+      always have been led to believe that every broad-minded man of whatever
+      sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any other man. And why
+      should I not move on an equality with my Christian friends? We have had
+      the same schooling, speak the same language, read the same books, are
+      surrounded by the same elements of home refinement. Probably if they had
+      not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased to associate with
+      them. I think the secret of it all is in the fact that it never occurred
+      to us that the most fastidious could think we were anything but the most
+      fastidious; and so we always met any one we desired to meet on a level
+      footing. I have a great many pleasant friends in the court of your
+      Philistines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly. But not having been brought up by your father, I think
+      differently, and perhaps am different. Their ways are not my ways; and
+      what good can you expect from such association?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, pleasant companionship. What wouldst thou more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Not even that. But tell me, can&rsquo;t you dissuade Aunt Esther from going
+      to-night? Tell your father, and let him judge if you had better not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much to
+      Father; but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on our
+      going to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, although Louis
+      is going also. But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, I shall tell
+      him immediately, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A blithe voice at the door interrupted her, calling:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open the door, Ruth; my hands are full.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose hastily, and with a signal of silence to her loquacious cousin,
+      opened the door for her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Jennie, how are your, dear? But let us inspect this box which Nora
+      has just handed me, before we consider you;&rdquo; and Mrs. Levice softly
+      deposited a huge box upon Ruth&rsquo;s lace-enveloped bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clear
+      olive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears. From the
+      crown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the picture of
+      exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her head like a
+      queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more like Ruth&rsquo;s
+      older sister than her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth&rsquo;s gown for this evening,&rdquo; she announced, deftly unfolding the
+      wrappings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yellow!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Corn-color,&rdquo; corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; &ldquo;how do you think it will
+      suit my girlie?&rdquo; She continued, shaking out the clinging silken crepe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Charmingly; but I thought Ruth objected to anything but white.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So she does; she thinks white keeps her unnoticed among the rest. This
+      time, however, my will overrode hers. Eh, Daughter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl made a low courtesy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am only lady-in-waiting to your Majesty, O Queen,&rdquo; she laughed. She had
+      hardly glanced at the gown, being engaged in a silent scrutiny of her
+      mother&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how is my prime minister this afternoon?&rdquo; Mrs. Levice was drawing off
+      her gloves, and Ruth&rsquo;s look of pained discovery passed unnoticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not been down since luncheon,&rdquo; she replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Then go down at once and bring him up. I must see that he gets out
+      of his studiousness and is clothed in festive mind for this evening. Come
+      to my sitting-room, Jennie, and we can have a comfortable chat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Left to herself, Ruth hesitated before going to her father with her
+      ill-boding tidings. None knew better than she of the great, silent love
+      that bound her parents. As a quiet, observant child, she had often
+      questioned wherein could be any sympathy between her father, almost old,
+      studious, and reserved, and her beautiful, worldly young mother. But as
+      she matured, she became conscious that because of this apparent disparity
+      it would have been still stranger had Mrs. Levice not loved him with a
+      feeling verging nearer humble adoration than any lower passion. It seemed
+      almost a mockery for her to have to tell him he had been negligent,&mdash;not
+      only a mockery, but a cruelty. However, it had to be done, and she was the
+      only one to do it. Having come to this conclusion, she ran quickly
+      downstairs, and softly, without knocking, opened the library door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She entered so quietly that Mr. Levice, reading by the window, did not
+      glance from his book. She stood a moment regarding the small
+      thoughtful-faced, white-haired man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If one were to judge but by results, Jules Levice would be accounted a
+      fortunate man. Nearing the allotted threescore and ten, blessed with a
+      loving, beloved wife and this one idolized ewe-lamb, surrounded by luxury,
+      in good health, honored, and honorable,&mdash;trouble and travail seemed
+      to have passed him by. But this scene of human happiness was the result of
+      intelligent and unremitting effort. A high state of earthly beatitude has
+      seldom been attained without great labor of mind or body by ourselves or
+      those akin to us. Jules Levice had been thrown on the world when a boy of
+      twelve. He resolved to become happy. Many of us do likewise; but we
+      overlook the fact that we are provided with feet, not wings, and cannot
+      fly to the goal. His dream of happiness was ambitious; it soared beyond
+      contentment. Not being a lily of the field, he knew that he must toil; any
+      honest work was acceptable to him. He was possessed of a fine mind; he
+      cultivated it. He had a keen observation; he became a student of his
+      fellow-men; and being strong and untiring, he became rich. This was but
+      the nucleus of his ambitions, and it came to him late in life, but not too
+      late for him to build round it his happy home, and to surround himself
+      with the luxuries of leisure for attaining the pinnacle of wide
+      information that he had always craved. His was merely the prosperity of an
+      intellectual, self-made man whose time for rest had come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
+      her hand upon his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, darling?&rdquo; He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
+      accent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am all ears;&rdquo; he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jennie was here just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did not come in to see me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She had something to tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A secret?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; something I must repeat to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father&mdash;Jennie thinks&mdash;she has reason to know that&mdash;dear,
+      do you think Mother is perfectly well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my child; I know she is not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This quiet assurance was staggering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a physician?&rdquo; A
+      wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;why?&rdquo; She became a little confused under his calm
+      gaze, feeling on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past week.
+      Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she admit it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she wishes
+      to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my discovery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But isn&rsquo;t it wrong&mdash;unwise&mdash;to allow her to dissipate so much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But to-night&mdash;forgive me, Father&mdash;you insist on our going to
+      this reception.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason,&mdash;one not to be
+      spoken of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Those who trust us educate us,&rsquo;&rdquo; she pleaded in wistful earnestness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would resist
+      seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to her
+      desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor whom
+      I would trust professionally with my wife&rsquo;s life, and on whom I can rely
+      for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their meeting.
+      What do you think of my way, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I know his name?&rdquo; she asked after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His name is Kemp,&mdash;Dr. Herbert Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign. Is he an old
+      physician?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not old
+      certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally he is
+      a man of great dignity, inspiring confidence in every one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you meet him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the hospitals,&rdquo; said her father quickly. &ldquo;But I will introduce him to
+      you to-night. Don&rsquo;t lose your head when you talk to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he is a magnificent fellow; and I wish my daughter to hold her
+      own before a man whom I admire so heartily.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice,&rdquo; she
+      laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a friendly hint,&rdquo; he answered, rising and putting his book in its
+      place with the precision of a spinster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is what I call a worldly paradise!&rdquo; A girl with a face like dear
+      Lady Disdain&rsquo;s sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voice
+      chimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the soft
+      strains of remote stringed instruments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a frivolous conceit?&rdquo; she continued, laughing up to the man who
+      stood beside her; &ldquo;or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,
+      radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also that such
+      a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothing can
+      be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full of
+      guests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And leaving out the guests?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given the necessary
+      contingencies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A solitude of two who love? Dr. Kemp, methinks you are a romantic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You supplied the romance, Miss Gwynne. My knowledge is of the hard,
+      matter-of-fact sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such as bones, I suppose. Still you seem to be interested in the
+      soft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy&rsquo;s definition of a vacuum,&mdash;a
+      large space with nothing in it. Who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I thought you not unknown! He is the husband of a brilliant woman,
+      Mrs. Ames, who has written a novel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Decidedly so; it stands the test of being intoxicating and leaving a bad
+      taste in the mouth,&mdash;like dry champagne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which is not made for women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean school-girls. There she is,&mdash;that wisp of a creature
+      listening so eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder
+      he interests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal history
+      as a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as a
+      social city directory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen a
+      leaf from him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp!&rdquo; she exclaimed in pouting reproach, &ldquo;do I appear as promiscuous
+      as that? You may call me a &lsquo;blue book,&rsquo; but spare my snobbery the
+      opprobrious epithet of &lsquo;directory.&rsquo; There goes the fascinating young Mrs.
+      Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Did you catch the fine oratory
+      of the glance she threw us? It said, &lsquo;Dorothy Gwynne, how dare you
+      appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes? Hand him over; pass him around.
+      I want him; you are only boring him, though you seem to be amusing
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp&rsquo;s grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt amused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you improvising?&rdquo; he asked. A man need only offer an occasional
+      bumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when his
+      companion is a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words. Ah, here
+      comes the Queen of Sheba.&rdquo; She broke off with a pleased smile as Ruth
+      Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together they were
+      doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying his head high,
+      fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarly
+      distinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasized
+      slightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.
+      Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inches
+      shorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crown of
+      his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short women
+      resented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoe
+      to speak to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy, colorless
+      face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was loosely rolled from her
+      forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brown beneath delicately
+      pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of her face. But the languorous
+      air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in the sweet sympathy of her
+      glance, and in a certain alertness about the poise of her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne&rsquo;s slight signal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you hastening?&rdquo; she asked as they turned to greet her. &ldquo;One
+      would think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you to the
+      beauties scattered about.&rdquo; She looked up pertly at Arnold, after giving
+      one comprehensive glance over Ruth&rsquo;s toilet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears,&rdquo; he answered, with
+      pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile, &ldquo;I did
+      not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other ground that
+      it would have been cruelty to disturb you.&rdquo; He spoke the language slowly,
+      as a stranger upon foreign ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Sheba
+      and her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?&rdquo; She paused a moment as the
+      parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke in rather
+      breathlessly: &ldquo;There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; do not let
+      your republican ignorance forget her proper title. Mr. Arnold, Mrs.
+      Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?&rdquo; and with a naive, superbly
+      impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he could murmur an
+      excuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go and see
+      the orchids?&rdquo; The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusion and
+      calmed her self-consciousness. She raised her eyes to the dark, clever
+      face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face. From the
+      broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of the gray eyes, to
+      the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard, strength and
+      gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore the stamp of a letter
+      of credit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;I think I shall sit here. My cousin will probably
+      be back soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne&rsquo;s appellation was not
+      inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her more
+      conventional title.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a peaceful little corner,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Do you notice how removed it
+      seems from the rest of the room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantly questioning
+      look with one of swift resolve. &ldquo;Dr. Kemp, I wish to tell you that my
+      father has confided to me your joint secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father?&rdquo; he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen of Sheba&rsquo;s
+      progenitors was vague.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father, yes,&rdquo; she repeated, smiling at his perplexity. &ldquo;Our name is
+      not very common; I am Jules Levice&rsquo;s daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to exclaim &ldquo;NO!&rdquo; The kinship seemed ridiculous in the face of
+      this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-faced Jew.
+      What he did say was,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine. He is present, is he not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Have you met my mother yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of this beautiful
+      face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones held an uncommon
+      charm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before the evening
+      is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the &lsquo;shop&rsquo; which I have of
+      a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seen any signs of
+      illness in your mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have been very blind and selfish,&rdquo; she replied, somewhat bitterly,
+      &ldquo;for every one but me seems to have seen that something was wrong. She has
+      been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fear has been burning the
+      candle at both ends for my light. I wish I had known&mdash;probably it lay
+      just within my hand to prevent this, instead of leading her on by my often
+      expressed delight. What I wish to ask you is that if you find anything
+      serious, you will tell me, and allay my father&rsquo;s fears as much as
+      possible. Please do this for me. My father is not young; and I, I think,
+      am trustworthy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking her
+      companion full in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before he answered.
+      Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a pact,&rdquo; he said lightly; &ldquo;but in all probability your father&rsquo;s
+      fears are exaggerated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears,&rsquo;&rdquo; she quoted, softly
+      flushing. The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keeping his eyes
+      intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that made his
+      companion feel that they two were exclusively alone,&mdash;a sensation
+      that was slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance. By and by one
+      understood that it was merely his air of interest that evoked the feeling,
+      and so gradually got used to it as to one of his features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so,&rdquo; he replied cheerily; &ldquo;and&mdash;I see some one is about to
+      play. Mrs. Merrill told me we should have some music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Louis, I think; I know his touch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your cousin? He plays?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth looked at him in questioning wonder. Truth to say, the doctor could
+      not but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnold in the
+      light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after the opening
+      chords. Rubenstein&rsquo;s Melody in F, played by a master-hand, is one long
+      sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisite rapture.
+      Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived in his soul was
+      magnificently interpreted. As he finished, there was not a murmur; and the
+      next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle that instantly
+      dispelled the former spell of grandeur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An artist,&rdquo; said some one standing near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something more,&rdquo; murmured Kemp, rising as he saw Ruth do so. He was about
+      to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman, stepped up
+      to them, and laying her hand upon Ruth&rsquo;s shoulder, said rather hurriedly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but Mrs. Levice&mdash;do not be
+      alarmed, Ruth dear&mdash;has become somewhat hysterical, and we cannot
+      calm her; will you come this way, please, and no one need know she is in
+      the study.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My family is making itself prominent to-night,&rdquo; said Ruth, with a little
+      catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through the
+      conservatory and so across the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be here, Doctor, if you wish anything,&rdquo; said Mrs. Merrill,
+      standing without as he and Ruth entered and immediately shut the door
+      after them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay there,&rdquo; he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quite
+      still where he left her. Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chair with
+      her back to the door; her husband had drawn her head to his bosom. There
+      was no one else in the room, and for a second not a sound, till Mrs.
+      Levice began to sob in a frightened manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing at all, Jules,&rdquo; she cried, trying to laugh and failing
+      lamentably; &ldquo;I&mdash;I&rsquo;m only silly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, dear, don&rsquo;t talk.&rdquo; Levice&rsquo;s face was white as he soothingly
+      stroked her hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon her
+      shoulders, motioned Levice aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! Not a word!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriek
+      stopped halfway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be perfectly still,&rdquo; he continued, holding her firmly. &ldquo;Obey this
+      instant,&rdquo; as she began to whimper; &ldquo;not a sound must I hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger&rsquo;s
+      measures. For a moment Mrs. Levice had started in affright to scream; but
+      the deep, commanding tone, the powerful hands upon her shoulders, the
+      impressive, unswerving eye that held hers, soon began to act almost
+      hypnotically. The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowly
+      regained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained look
+      in her eyes melted. She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in response to
+      his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of his
+      countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is well,&rdquo; said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and still
+      keeping his smiling eyes upon hers. &ldquo;Now just close your eyes for a
+      minute; see, I have your hand,&mdash;so. Go to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was not a sound in the room; Ruth stood where she had been placed,
+      and Mr. Levice was behind the doctor, his face quite colorless, scarcely
+      daring to breathe. Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice told
+      that she slept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, which hisses,
+      but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed the lightest
+      sleeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put your hand, palm up, under hers. I am going to withdraw my hand and
+      retire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyes in
+      a few moments. Take her home as quietly as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will call to-morrow?&rdquo; whispered Levice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He quietly assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now be deft.&rdquo; The transfer was quickly made, and nodding cheerfully, Dr.
+      Kemp left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth came forward. Five minutes later Mrs. Levice opened her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what has happened?&rdquo; she asked languidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You fell asleep, Esther,&rdquo; replied her husband, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know; but why is Ruth in that gown? Oh&mdash;ye-es!&rdquo; Consciousness
+      was returning to her. &ldquo;And who was that handsome man who was here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is very strong,&rdquo; she observed pensively. She lay back in her chair for
+      a few minutes as if dreaming. Suddenly she started up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What thoughtless people we are! Let us go back to the drawing-room, or
+      they will think something dreadful has happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back. Stay here with Father
+      while I get our wraps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room. As she turned in
+      the direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid upon
+      her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you, Louis! I am going for our wraps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here they are. How is my aunt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is quite herself again. Thanks for the wraps. Will you call up the
+      carriage, Louis? We shall go immediately, but do not think of coming
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! Tell your mother you have made your adieux to Mrs. Merrill,&mdash;she
+      understands; the carriage is waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes later the Levices and Louis Arnold quietly stole away. Mrs.
+      Levice has had an attack of hysteria. &ldquo;Nothing at all,&rdquo; the world said,
+      and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-points in a
+      life-history are dismissed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The Levices&rsquo; house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an air of
+      reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed houses that
+      faced it and hedged it in on both sides. But the broad, sweeping lawns,
+      the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open path to the
+      veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, the long
+      French windows open this summer&rsquo;s morning to sun and air, told an inviting
+      tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he looked
+      around approvingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm,&rdquo; he mused as he rang the
+      bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was immediately answered by the &ldquo;grave little bookworm&rdquo; in person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been on the lookout for you for the past hour,&rdquo; he explained,
+      leading him into the library and turning the key of the door as they
+      entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, but
+      large and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs, a
+      lounge or two, a woman&rsquo;s low rocker, an open piano, a few soft engravings
+      on the walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books on stands, books
+      everywhere. Two long lace-draped windows let in a flood of searching
+      sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in the remotest corner.
+      It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess to keep her house as
+      clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirt might be served upon
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you not be seated?&rdquo; asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latter
+      stood drawing off his gloves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your wife coming down here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; she is in her room yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let us go up immediately. I am not at leisure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. Still I wish to ask you to treat whatever ailments you may find
+      as lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxiety or
+      worry of any kind. It will be necessary to tell only me, and every
+      precaution will be taken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the brunt of
+      the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing it secretly
+      for some time. Probably a very united family, loving and unselfish
+      doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in the face of the
+      old gentleman&rsquo;s dignified appeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of my
+      visit?&rdquo; He moved toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth&mdash;my daughter, you know&mdash;was about to tell her as I left
+      the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we will go up directly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice preceded him up the broad staircase. As they reached the landing,
+      he turned to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon my care, but I must make sure that Ruth has told her. Just step
+      into the sitting-room a second,&rdquo; and the precautious husband went forward
+      to his wife&rsquo;s bedroom, leaving the door open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the following
+      words:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And being interested in nervous diseases,&rdquo; the peculiarly low voice was
+      saying, &ldquo;he told Father he would call and see you,&mdash;out of
+      professional curiosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be
+      often taken as you were last night, should we?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;People with plenty of time on their hands,&rdquo; soliloquized the doctor,
+      looking at his watch in the hallway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is his name, did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Herbert Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Don&rsquo;t you know that Dr. Kemp is one of the first physicians in the
+      city? Every one knows he has no time for curiosity. Nervous diseases are
+      his specialty; and do you think he would come without&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Being asked?&rdquo; interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had remembered the
+      flight of time, and walked in unannounced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep your seat,&rdquo; he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excited
+      blood springing to her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hardly need an introduction, Esther,&rdquo; said Levice. &ldquo;You remember Dr.
+      Kemp from last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Don&rsquo;t go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn&rsquo;t you something to do
+      downstairs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her trouble from
+      his tender watchfulness? Great dark rings encircled her now feverishly
+      bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drew aside, her
+      mother&rsquo;s shaking fingers held tight to her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have nothing in the world to do,&rdquo; replied Levice, heartily; &ldquo;I am going
+      to sit right here and get interested.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will have to submit to a friendly cross-examination, Mrs. Levice,&rdquo;
+       said the physician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew a chair up before her and took both her hands in his. As Ruth
+      relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantly authoritative
+      gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She descended a few steps to the windowed landing. Here she intended
+      joining the doctor on his way down. Probably her father would follow him;
+      but it was her intention to intercept any such plan. A fog had arisen, and
+      the struggling rosy beams of the sun glimmered opalescently through the
+      density. Ruth thought it would be clear by noon, when she and her mother
+      could go for a stirring tramp. She stood lost in thought till a firm
+      footfall on the stairs aroused her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see Miss Levice here; don&rsquo;t come down,&rdquo; Kemp was saying. &ldquo;What further
+      directions I have must be given to a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay with Mamma, Father,&rdquo; called Ruth, looking up at her hesitating
+      father; &ldquo;I shall see the doctor out;&rdquo; and she quickly ran down the few
+      remaining steps to Kemp, awaiting her at the foot. She opened the door of
+      the library, and closing it quickly behind them, turned to him
+      expectantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing to be alarmed at,&rdquo; he said, answering her mute inquiry. He seated
+      himself at the table, and drew from his vest-pocket pencil and blank.
+      Without another glance at the girl, he wrote rapidly for some minutes;
+      then quickly moving back his chair, he arose and handed her the two slips
+      of paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first is a tonic which you will have made up,&rdquo; he explained, picking
+      up his gloves and hat and moving toward the door; &ldquo;the other is a diet
+      which you are to observe. As I told her just now, she must remain in bed
+      and see no one but her immediate family; you must see that she hears and
+      reads nothing exciting. That is all, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indignation and alarm held riot in Ruth&rsquo;s face and arrested the doctor&rsquo;s
+      departure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you force me to remind you of a promise you made me
+      last night. Will you at least tell me what ails my mother that you use
+      such strenuous measures?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A flash of recollection came to the doctor&rsquo;s eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, this is an unpardonable breach upon my part, Miss Levice; but I will
+      tell you all the trouble. Your mother is suffering with a certain form of
+      hysteria to a degree that would have prostrated her had we not come
+      forward in time. As it is, by prostrating her ourselves for awhile, say a
+      month or so, she will regain her equilibrium. You have heard of the food
+      and rest cure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that is what she will undergo mildly. Has she any duties that will
+      suffer by her neglect or that will intrude upon her equanimity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No necessary ones but those of the house. Under no circumstances can I
+      conceive of her giving up their supervision.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet she must do so under the present state of affairs. Remember, her mind
+      must be kept unoccupied, but time must be made to pass pleasantly for her.
+      This is not an easy task, Miss Levice; but, according to my promise, I
+      have left you to undertake it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she responded quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp looked at her with a sense of calm satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; he said, holding out his hand with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the door closed behind him, Ruth felt as if a burden had fallen from,
+      instead of upon her. For the last twenty-four hours her apprehensions had
+      been excessive. Now, though she knew positively that her mother&rsquo;s
+      condition needed instant and constant care, which she must herself assume,
+      all sense of responsibility fell from her. The few quiet words of this
+      strange physician had made her trust his strength as she would a rock. She
+      could not have explained why it was so; but as her father remarked once,
+      she might have said, &ldquo;I trust him implicitly, because, though a man of
+      superiority, he implicitly trusts himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she re-entered her mother&rsquo;s room, her father regarded her intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So we are going to make a baby of you, Mamma,&rdquo; she cried playfully,
+      coming forward and folding her arms around her mother, who lay on the
+      lounge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he says; and what he says one cannot resist.&rdquo; There was an apathetic
+      ring to her mother&rsquo;s voice that surprised her. Quickly the thought flashed
+      through her that she was too weary to resist now that she was found out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we won&rsquo;t try to,&rdquo; Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge of the
+      lounge close to her mother. From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted with
+      remorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovely
+      young daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothed her
+      hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if you are to be baby,&rdquo; she continued, smiling down, &ldquo;I shall have to
+      change places with you, and become mother. You will see what a capital one
+      I shall make. Let&rsquo;s see, what are the duties? First, baby must be kept
+      clean and sweet,&mdash;I am an artist at that; secondly, Father and the
+      rest of us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;&rdquo; the gentle
+      meaning of her father&rsquo;s words and glance caused Ruth to flush with
+      pleasure. When Levice said, &ldquo;My child,&rdquo; the words were a caress. &ldquo;Just
+      believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was &lsquo;Whatever you do,
+      do thoroughly.&rsquo; She had to learn it through experience. But as you trust
+      me, trust my pupil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The soft smile that played upon her husband&rsquo;s face was reflected on Mrs.
+      Levice&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Ruth,&rdquo; she murmured tremulously, &ldquo;it will be so hard for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a virtual laying down of arms, and Ruth was satisfied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Louis Arnold, the only other member of the Levice family, had been forced
+      to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s attack at
+      the Merrill reception. He was, therefore, much surprised and shocked on
+      his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and such rigorous
+      measures for quiet in vogue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years. He was a
+      direct importation from France, which he had left just before attaining
+      his majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductive to his
+      imagination. He had no sooner taken up his abode with his uncle than he
+      was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreign vertu in
+      the beautiful house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he was soon
+      able to take almost the entire charge of Levice&rsquo;s affairs. In a few years
+      his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities. From the time he
+      arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt&rsquo;s escort, thus
+      again relieving Levice, who preferred the quieter life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Ruth began to go into society, his presence was almost a necessity,
+      as Jewish etiquette, or rather Jewish espionage, forbids a young man
+      unattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a single
+      woman. This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got into for
+      keeping the young people apart,&mdash;making cowards of the young men, and
+      depriving the young girls of a great deal of innocent pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold, however, was not an escort to be despised, as Ruth soon
+      discovered. She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool,
+      quizzical manner and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from the
+      more girlish admiration of his distinguished person. He and Ruth were
+      great friends in a quiet, unspoken way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of his
+      return. Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting with
+      her. Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feel
+      lonesome in the changed aspect of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward and forward
+      in the rocker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I am surprised at,&rdquo; he was saying, &ldquo;is that my aunt submits to this
+      confining treatment;&rdquo; he pronounced the last word &ldquo;tritment,&rdquo; but he never
+      stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding a certain
+      piquancy to his speech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows his
+      directions blindly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have heard from a great many&mdash;women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And not men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never happened to hold a conversation with a man on the powers of
+      Dr. Kemp. Women delight in such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, giving in to the magnetic power of a strong man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You err slightly, Louis; it is the power, not the giving in that we
+      delight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you allow me to differ with you? Besides, apart from this great
+      first cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has not
+      rebelled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I can answer that satisfactorily,&rdquo; replied his cousin, a
+      mischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong white
+      teeth; &ldquo;she is in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Also?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best. Love is also
+      something every one loves to give in to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one who loves, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one loves something or some one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Behold the exception, therefore.&rdquo; He moved his head so as to get a better
+      view of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not believe you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&mdash;is rude.&rdquo; He kept his eyes meditatively fixed upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you made a discovery in my face?&rdquo; asked the girl presently, slightly
+      moving from his gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied calmly. &ldquo;My discovery was made some time ago; I am merely
+      going over beautiful and pleasant ground.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really?&rdquo; she returned, flushing, &ldquo;then please look away; you annoy me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I, since you know it is done in admiration? You are a woman;
+      do not pretend distaste for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall certainly go upstairs if you persist in talking so disagreeably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to be
+      disagreeable. Always wear white; it becomes you. Never forget that beauty
+      needs appropriate surroundings. Another thing, ma belle cousine, this
+      little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocation spoils your
+      whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain its healthy
+      whiteness, while&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis. Do you know, if you
+      often spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides making
+      enemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest and
+      loveliest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mocking
+      tarantulas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our loving
+      everybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Love
+      only wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose. Cupid,
+      you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had his
+      portrait taken after he matured.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A character such as you would have would be unbearable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But sensible and wise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctively
+      before the brain can speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good&mdash;for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain always
+      reconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worth
+      while to signal either &lsquo;love&rsquo; or &lsquo;hate.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecoming blush
+      mounted slowly to Ruth&rsquo;s face and her eyes were bright as she watched him.
+      When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independence of
+      all emotion. But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being a
+      weakness, is often more clever than wisdom? At any rate, what you are
+      doing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more strongly
+      than many.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly,
+      never, however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softly
+      passionate minor strain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What am I doing?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Making love to the piano.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It does not hurt the piano, does it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but never say you do not feel when you play like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is not that rather peremptory? Who taught you to read characters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? What a poor teacher I was to allow you to show such bungling work!
+      Will you sing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shall read; I have had quite enough of myself and of you for one
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, poor me!&rdquo; he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany his words
+      with his music; &ldquo;I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotions are so
+      troublesome. You have but made your entrance into the coldest, most
+      exciting arena,&mdash;the world. Remember what I tell you,&mdash;all the
+      strong motives, love and hate and jealousy, are mere flotsam and jetsam.
+      You are the only loser by their possession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The quiet closing of the door was his only answer. Ruth had left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt of cynicism.
+      If she could escape a cynic either in books or in society, she invariably
+      did so. Life was still beautiful for her; and one of her father&rsquo;s untaught
+      lessons was that the cynic is a one-sided creature, having lost the eye
+      that sees the compensation balancing all things. As long as Louis attacked
+      things, it did no harm, except to incite a friendly passage-at-arms;
+      hence, most of such talk passed in the speaking. Not so the disparaging
+      insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chief to
+      her mother she had seen him almost daily. Time in a quiet sick-room passes
+      monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-being and
+      activity here assume proportions of importance; meal-times are looked
+      forward to as a break in the day; the doctor&rsquo;s visit especially when it is
+      the only one allowed, is an excitement. Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s visits were short, but
+      the two learned to look for his coming and the sound of his deep, cheery
+      voice, as to their morning&rsquo;s tonic that would strengthen the whole day.
+      Naturally, as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levice in her idleness had analyzed
+      and discussed aloud his qualities, both personal and professional, to her
+      satisfaction. She had small ground for basing her judgments, but the
+      doctor formed a good part of her conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s knowledge of him was somewhat larger,&mdash;about the distance
+      between Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s bedroom and the front door. She had a homely little
+      way of seeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her any
+      new instructions. Instructions are soon given and taken; and there was
+      always time for a word or two of a different nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificent
+      pair of jetty blacks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if they would despise a lump of sugar,&rdquo; she said one morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should they?&rdquo; asked Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they seem to hold their heads so haughtily.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, they are human enough to know sweets when they see them,&rdquo; their
+      owner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in her
+      quaint, flowered morning-gown. &ldquo;Try them once, and you won&rsquo;t doubt it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did try them; and as she turned a slightly flushed face to Kemp, who
+      stood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, &ldquo;Let me
+      thank you and shake hands for my horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather. The doctor
+      became neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercurially affected
+      by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of a private
+      signal-service reporter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the time for a tramp,&rdquo; she said, as they stood on the veranda,
+      and the summer air, laden with the perfume of heliotrope, stole around
+      them. &ldquo;That is where the laboring man has the advantage over you, Dr.
+      Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which, ten to one, he finds a disadvantage. I must confess that in such
+      weather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should be
+      inhaling this air at a leisurely trot or stride as his habit may be. You,
+      Miss Levice, should get on your walking togs instantly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but not conveniently. My father and I never failed to take our
+      morning constitutional together when all was well. Father always gave me
+      the dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as long
+      strides as a boy. Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry my pas
+      was not ladylike.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidently
+      remembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one&rsquo;s length of limb
+      to the dainty footsteps of a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father has no trouble on that score,&rdquo; said Ruth, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor smiled in response, and raising his hat, said, &ldquo;That is where
+      he has the advantage over a tall man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in his manner
+      but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally at variance with
+      the peculiarities of the &ldquo;lady&rsquo;s man&rdquo; that Louis had insinuated he was
+      accounted. She resolved to scrutinize him more narrowly the next morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s room was handsomely furnished and daintily appointed. Even
+      from her pillows she would have detected any lapse in its exquisite
+      neatness, and one of Ruth&rsquo;s duties was to leave none to be detected. The
+      house was large; and with three servants the young girl had to do a great
+      deal of supervising. She took a natural pride in having things go as
+      smoothly as under her mother&rsquo;s administration; and Mr. Levice said it was
+      well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was a vast
+      improvement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth had given the last touches to her mother&rsquo;s dark hair, and was reading
+      aloud the few unexciting items one finds in the morning&rsquo;s paper. Mrs.
+      Levice, propped almost to a sitting position by many downy pillows,
+      polished her nails and half listened. Her cheeks were no longer brightly
+      flushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and her
+      slight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great weariness had
+      taken its place. The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at the open
+      window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying a
+      dainty basket of Duchesse roses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For Madame,&rdquo; she said, handing it to Ruth, who came forward to take it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read the card yourself,&rdquo; she said, placing it in her mother&rsquo;s hand as the
+      girl retired. A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s face; she buried
+      her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From Louis!&rdquo; she exclaimed delightedly. &ldquo;Poor fellow! he was dreadfully
+      upset when he came in. He did not say much, but his look and hand-shake
+      were enough as he bent to kiss me. Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louis
+      has a very loving disposition?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him to
+      be unusually sympathetic for a man. I would sooner have him for a friend
+      than many a woman; he has not many equals among the young men I know.
+      Don&rsquo;t you agree with me, girlie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; I always liked Louis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How coldly you say that! And, by the way, it struck me as very queer last
+      night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week. Since when
+      has this formal hand-shake come into use?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slight flush crimsoned Ruth&rsquo;s cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not my fault,&rdquo; she said, smiling; &ldquo;I always kissed Louis even after
+      a day&rsquo;s absence. But some few months ago he inaugurated the new regime,
+      and holds me at arm&rsquo;s length. I can&rsquo;t ask him why, when he looks at me so
+      matter-of-factly through his eyeglass, can I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; certainly not.&rdquo; A slight frown marred the complacency of Mrs.
+      Levice&rsquo;s brow. Such actions were not at all in accordance with her darling
+      plan. Arnold was much to her; but she wished him to be more. This was a
+      side-track upon which she had not wished her train to move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her cogitations took a turn when she heard a quick, firm footfall in the
+      hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside. He
+      had not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravity
+      replaced his usual leisurely manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, Mrs. Levice,&rdquo; he said, taking her hand in his, and looking
+      searchingly down at her. &ldquo;How are you feeling this morning? Any starts or
+      shakes of any sort?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fed animal.
+      Won&rsquo;t you sit down, Doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have a consultation in a very short time. Keep right on as you have
+      been doing. I do not think it will be necessary for me to call for several
+      days now; probably not before Friday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And to-day is Tuesday! Am I to see no one till then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one but those you have seen. Pray do not complain, Mrs. Levice,&rdquo; he
+      continued rather sternly. &ldquo;You are a very fortunate invalid; illness with
+      you is cushioned in every conceivable corner. I wish I could make you
+      divide some of your blessings. As I cannot, I wish you to appreciate them
+      as they deserve. Do not come down, Miss Levice,&rdquo; as she moved to follow
+      him; &ldquo;I am in a great hurry. Good-morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How harassed he looked! I wonder who is his patient!&rdquo; observed Mrs.
+      Levice, as Ruth quietly returned to her seat. A sunbeam fell aslant the
+      girl&rsquo;s preoccupied face. The doctor&rsquo;s few words had given her food for
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herself
+      Louis&rsquo;s allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything to mock
+      at, had he been present, in Kemp&rsquo;s abrupt visit of the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Ruth always dressed well. Indeed, any little jealousy her lovely presence
+      might occasion was usually summed up in the terse innuendo, &ldquo;Fine feathers
+      make fine birds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To dress well is to dress appropriately to time, place, and season. Having
+      a full purse, she could humor every occasion with a change of gown; being
+      possessed of good taste, her toilets never offended; desiring to look
+      pleasing, as every woman should, she studied what was becoming; having a
+      mother to whom a good toilet was one of the most pressing convenances, and
+      who delighted in planning beautiful gowns for her beautiful daughter,
+      there was nothing lacking to prevent Ruth from being well-dressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this summer&rsquo;s afternoon she was clad from head to foot in soft, pale
+      gray. Every movement of her young body, as she walked toward town,
+      betokened health and elastic strength. Her long, easy gait precluded any
+      idea of hurry; she noticed everything she passed, from a handsome house to
+      a dirty child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was approaching that portion of Geary Street which the doctors have
+      appropriated, and she carefully scanned each silvery sign-plate in search
+      of Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s name. It was the first time she had had occasion to go; and
+      with a little feeling of novel curiosity she ran up the stairs leading to
+      his office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was just three,&mdash;the time stated as the limit of his office-hours;
+      but when Ruth entered the handsome waiting-room, two or three patients
+      were still awaiting their turns. Seated in one of the easy-chairs, near
+      the window, was an aristocratic-looking woman, whom Ruth recognized as a
+      friend of one of her Christian friends, and with whom she had a speaking
+      acquaintance. Nodding pleasantly in response to the rather frigid bow, she
+      walked to the centre of the room, and laying upon the table a bunch of
+      roses that she carried, proceeded to select one of the magazines scattered
+      about. As she sat down, she found herself opposite a stout Irishwoman,
+      coarsely but cleanly dressed, who with undisguised admiration took in
+      every detail of Ruth&rsquo;s appearance. She overlooked the evident simplicity
+      of the woman&rsquo;s stare; but the wistful, yearning look of a little girl who
+      reclined upon the lounge caused her to sit with her magazine unopened. As
+      soon as she perceived that it was her flowers that the child regarded so
+      longingly, she bent forward, and holding out a few roses, said invitingly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like these?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There is generally something startling in the sudden sound of a voice
+      after a long silence between strangers; but the pretty cadence of Ruth&rsquo;s
+      gentle voice bore no suggestion of abruptness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, and she just do dote on &lsquo;em,&rdquo; answered the mother, in a loud
+      tone, for the blushing child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; responded Ruth; and leaning farther forward, she put them in
+      the little hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the child&rsquo;s hand did not close over them, and the large eyes turned
+      piteously to her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s paralyzed she is,&rdquo; hurriedly explained the mother. &ldquo;Shall Mamma hold
+      the beautiful roses for ye, darlint?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please,&rdquo; answered the childish treble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth hesitated a second, and then rising and bending over her said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I know of a better way. Wouldn&rsquo;t you like to have me fasten them in
+      your belt? There, now you can smell them all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Roses is what she likes mostly,&rdquo; proceeded the mother, garrulously, &ldquo;and
+      she&rsquo;s for giving the doctor one every time she can when he comes. Faith!
+      it&rsquo;s about all he do get for his goodness, for what with&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sudden opening of the folding-door interrupted her flow of talk.
+      Seeing the doctor standing on the threshold as a signal for the next in
+      waiting to come forward, the poor woman arose preparatory to helping her
+      child into the consulting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me help Mamie, Mrs. O&rsquo;Brien,&rdquo; said he, coming toward her. At the same
+      moment the elegant-looking woman rose from her chair and swept toward him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe it is my turn,&rdquo; she said, in response to his questioning
+      salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, if you came before Mrs. O&rsquo;Brien. If so, walk in,&rdquo; he answered,
+      moving the portiere aside for the other to enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, Doctor,&rdquo; broke in Mrs. O&rsquo;Brien, anxiously, &ldquo;we came in together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; He looked from the florid, flustered face to the haughtily
+      impassive woman beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said he, courteously, &ldquo;I know Mrs. O&rsquo;Brien is wanted at home
+      by her little ones. Mrs. Baker, you will not object, I am sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now the elegant woman&rsquo;s turn to flush as Kemp took up the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth felt a leap of delight at the action. It was a quiet lesson to be
+      laid to heart; and she knew she could never see him in a better light than
+      when he left the room holding the little charity patient in his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She also noticed with a tinge of amusement the look of added hauteur on
+      the face of Mrs. Baker, as she returned to her seat at the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haughtiness,&rdquo; mused Ruth, &ldquo;is merely a cloak to selfishness, or the want
+      of a proper spirit of humanity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The magazine article remained unread; she drifted into a sort of
+      day-dream, and scarcely noticed when Mrs. Baker left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Miss Levice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started up, slightly embarrassed, as the doctor&rsquo;s voice thus aroused
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; she said, coming forward and flushing slightly under
+      his amused smile. &ldquo;It was so quiet here that I forgot where I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her an exquisite
+      fragrance of roses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be seated?&rdquo; he asked, as he turned from closing the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it is not worth while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the trouble,&mdash;you or your mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been nothing disconcerting in the Irish-woman&rsquo;s stare; but she
+      felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable under the doctor&rsquo;s broad gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither of us,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;I broke the tonic bottle this morning, and
+      as the number was destroyed, I should like to have you give me another
+      prescription.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Directly. Take this chair for a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seated herself perforce, and he took the chair beside the desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is she since yesterday?&rdquo; he asked, as he wrote, without looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite as comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He handed her the prescription presently, and she arose at once. He
+      stepped forward to open the outer door for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health,&rdquo; he remarked, with a
+      hand on the knob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it. But for your method
+      I am afraid there might have been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind. Your nursing was as
+      potent a factor as my directions. It is not Congress, but the people, who
+      make the country, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is condescending, coming from Congress,&rdquo; she laughed gayly; &ldquo;but I
+      must disclaim the compliment, I am sorry to say; my nursing was only a
+      name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you please. Miss Levice, may I beg a rose of you? No, not all. Well,
+      thank you, they will look wonderful in a certain room I am thinking of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; There was a note of inquiry in the little word in reply to Kemp&rsquo;s
+      pointed remark spoken as with a sudden purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he continued, leaning his back against the door and looking
+      earnestly down at the tall girl; &ldquo;the room of a lad without even the
+      presence of a mother to make it pretty;&rdquo; he paused as if noting the effect
+      of his words. &ldquo;He is as lonely and uncomplaining as a tree would be in a
+      desert; these roses will be quite a godsend to him.&rdquo; He finished his
+      sentence pleasantly at sight of the expression of sympathy in the lovely
+      brown eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think he would care to see any one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied the doctor, slowly, &ldquo;I think he would not mind seeing
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then will you tell me where he lives so that I can go there some day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day? Why not to-day? Would it be impossible to arrange it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; she faltered, looking at him in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse my curiosity, please; but the boy is in such pressing need of some
+      pleasurable emotion that as soon as I looked at you and your roses I
+      thought, &lsquo;Now, that would not be a bad thing for Bob.&rsquo; You see, I was
+      simply answering a question that has bothered me all day. Then will you
+      drive there with me now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would not that be impossible with your driver?&rdquo; she asked, searching
+      unaccountably for an excuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can easily dispense with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But won&rsquo;t my presence be annoying?&rdquo; she persisted, hesitating oddly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to me,&rdquo; he replied, turning quickly for his hat. &ldquo;Come, then, please,
+      I must waste no more time in Bob&rsquo;s good cause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She followed him silently with a sensation of quiet excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently she found herself comfortably seated beside the doctor, who
+      drove off at a rapid pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said he, turning his horses westward, &ldquo;I shall have to make a
+      call out here on Jones Street before going to Bob. You will not mind the
+      delay, Miss Levice, I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no. This is &lsquo;my afternoon off,&rsquo; you know. Father is at home, and my
+      mother will not miss me in the least. I was just thinking&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She came to a sudden pause. She had just remembered that she was about to
+      become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent, interested
+      look in Kemp&rsquo;s eye as he glanced at her was the disturbing element.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were thinking what?&rdquo; he prompted with his eye now to the horses&rsquo; 
+      heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you would not be edified if I continued,&rdquo; she answered
+      hastily, biting her lip. She had been about to remark that her father
+      would miss her, nevertheless&mdash;but such personal platitudes are not
+      always in good taste. Seeing that she was disinclined to finish her
+      sentence, he did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up his
+      horses before a rather imposing house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not be gone a minute, I think,&rdquo; he said, as he sprang out and was
+      about to attach the reins to the post.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me hold them, please,&rdquo; said Ruth, eagerly stretching forth a hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He placed them in her hand with a smile, and turned in at the gateway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been in the house about five minutes when she saw him come out
+      hastily. His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gathered in an
+      unmistakable frown. At the moment when he slammed the gate behind him, a
+      stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted him breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited stolidly with his foot on the carriage-step till she came up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So sorry I had to go out!&rdquo; she burst forth. &ldquo;How did you find my husband?
+      What do you think of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; he replied shortly, &ldquo;since you ask, I think your husband is
+      little short of an idiot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth felt herself flush as she heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman looked at him in consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Matter? Mayonnaise is the matter. If a man with a weak stomach like his
+      cannot resist gorging himself with things he has been strictly prohibited
+      from touching, he had better proclaim himself irresponsible and be done.
+      It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting up such antics.
+      Good-afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins
+      from her without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician.
+      He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact to
+      break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, the explosion
+      is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach.
+      The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is here
+      charged with odors redolent of anything but the &ldquo;shores of Araby the
+      blest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some men,&rdquo; he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, &ldquo;have no
+      more conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages. Here
+      is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his soul;
+      otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can&rsquo;t account for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The force of habit, perhaps,&rdquo; suggested Ruth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on the
+      weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark,
+      although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself. Some
+      Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the race as
+      a personal calumny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We always make the reservation that the fat be clean,&rdquo; she laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp flashed around at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Levice,&rdquo; he exclaimed contritely, &ldquo;I completely forgot&mdash;I hope
+      I was not rude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, certainly not,&rdquo; she answered half merrily, half earnestly. &ldquo;Why
+      should you be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have their
+      faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their characteristics
+      redound to their honor, in my estimation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said the girl, quietly. &ldquo;I am very proud of many Jewish
+      traits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and
+      countless other things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the
+      musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with
+      these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches of
+      art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited deferentially for a reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was trying to think of a proper answer,&rdquo; she responded with earnest
+      simplicity; &ldquo;and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers
+      are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times and
+      circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and sculpture
+      require other things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which the Jew cannot obtain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;we have begun. I should like to quote to you
+      the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired to
+      answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil that
+      which in his mouth seemed eloquent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention
+      from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her
+      expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim was
+      about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friend good-by,
+      he said: &lsquo;In that far land to which I am journeying, is there not some
+      relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can bring to
+      you?&rsquo; The friend mused awhile. &lsquo;Yes,&rsquo; he made answer finally; &lsquo;there is a
+      small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg of you to bring me a
+      single rose from the plains of Sharon.&rsquo; The pilgrim promised, and
+      departed. On his return he presented himself before his friend. &lsquo;You have
+      brought it?&rsquo; he cried. &lsquo;Friend,&rsquo; answered the pilgrim, sadly, &lsquo;I have
+      brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary travelling it is now
+      but a poor, withered thing.&rsquo; &lsquo;Give it me!&rsquo; exclaimed the friend, eagerly.
+      The other did so. True, it was lifeless and withered; not a vestige
+      remained of its once fragrant glory. But as the man held it tenderly in
+      his hand, memory and love untold overcame him, and he wept in ecstasy. And
+      as his tears fell on the faded rose, lo! The petals sprang up, flushed
+      into life; an exquisite perfume enveloped it,&mdash;it had revived in all
+      its beauty. Sir, in the words of the rabbi, &lsquo;In the light of toleration
+      and love, we too have revived, we too are looking up.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the girl paused, Kemp slightly, almost reverentially, raised his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Levice, that is exquisite,&rdquo; he said softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had reached the old, poorer section of the city, and the doctor
+      stopped before a weather-beaten cottage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is where Bob receives,&rdquo; he said, holding out a hand to Ruth; &ldquo;in all
+      truth it cannot be called a home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth had a peculiar, inexplicable feeling of mutual understanding with the
+      doctor as she went in with him. She hardly realized that she had been an
+      impressionable witness of some of his dominant moods, and that she herself
+      had been led on to an unrestrained display of feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      They walked directly into a bare, dark hallway. There was no one stirring,
+      and Kemp softly opened the door of one of several rooms leading into the
+      passage. Here a broad band of yellow sunlight fell unrestrained athwart
+      the waxen-like face of the sleeping boy. The rest of the simple,
+      poor-looking room was in shadow. The doctor noiselessly closed the door
+      behind them, and stepped to the bed, which was covered with a heavy
+      horse-blanket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy on the bed even in sleep could not be accounted good-looking;
+      there was a heaviness of feature, a plentitude of freckles, a shock of
+      lack-lustre hair, that made poor Bob Bard anything but a thing of beauty.
+      And yet, as Ruth looked at him, and saw Kemp&rsquo;s strong white hand placed
+      gently on the low forehead, a great wave of tender pity took possession of
+      her. Sleep puts the strongest at the mercy of the watcher; there is a
+      loneliness about it, a silent, expressive plea for protection, that
+      appeals unconsciously. Ruth would have liked to raise the rough, lonely
+      head to her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be too bad to wake him now,&rdquo; said the doctor, in a low voice,
+      coming back to her side; &ldquo;he is sleeping restfully; and that is what he
+      needs. I am sorry our little plan is frustrated; but it would be senseless
+      to wait, as there is no telling when he will waken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shade of disappointment passed over the girl&rsquo;s face, which he noticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;you might leave your roses where he cannot fail to
+      see them. His conjectures on their mysterious appearance will rouse him
+      sufficiently for one day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He watched her move lightly across the room, and fill a cup with water
+      from an earthenware pitcher. She looked about for a second as if
+      hesitating where to place it, and then quickly drew up a high-backed
+      wooden chair close to the bedside, and placed thereon a cup with roses, so
+      that they looked straight into the face of the slumbering lad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will go now,&rdquo; Kemp said, and opened the door for Ruth to pass before
+      him. She followed him slowly, but on the threshold drew back, a thoughtful
+      little pucker on her brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall wait anyway,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;I should like to talk with
+      Bob a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked slightly annoyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better drive home with me,&rdquo; he objected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she replied, drawing farther back into the room; &ldquo;but the
+      Jackson Street cars are very convenient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nevertheless, I should prefer to have you come with me,&rdquo; he insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do not wish to,&rdquo; she repeated quietly; &ldquo;besides, I have decided to
+      stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That settles it, then,&rdquo; smiled Kemp; and shaking her hand, he went out
+      alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When my lady will, she will; and when she won&rsquo;t, she won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he mused,
+      gathering up his reins. But the terminal point to the thought was a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, thus left alone, seated herself on the one other chair near the foot
+      of the bed. Strange to say, though she gazed at Bob, her thoughts had
+      flown out of the room. She was dimly conscious that she was pleasantly
+      excited. Had she cared to look the cause boldly in the face, she would
+      have known that Miss Ruth Levice&rsquo;s vanity had been highly fed by Dr.
+      Kemp&rsquo;s unmistakable desire for her assistance. He must at least have
+      looked at her with friendly eyes; but here her modesty drew a line even
+      for herself, and giving herself a mental shake, she saw that two lambent
+      brown eyes were looking wonderingly at her from the face of the sick lad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you feel now, Bob?&rdquo; she asked, rising immediately and smiling down
+      at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy forgot to answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor brought me here,&rdquo; she went on brightly; &ldquo;but as you were
+      asleep, he could not wait. Are you feeling better, Bob?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The soft, star-like eyes did not wander in their gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you come?&rdquo; he breathed finally. His voice was surprisingly
+      musical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; faltered Ruth. &ldquo;Oh, to bring you these roses. Do you care for
+      flowers, Bob?&rdquo; She lifted the mass of delicate buds toward him. Two pale,
+      transparent hands went out to meet them. Tenderly as you sometimes see a
+      mother press the cheek of her babe to her own, he drew them to his cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my darlings, my darlings!&rdquo; he murmured passionately, with his lips
+      pressed to the fragrant petals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you love them, then, so much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady,&rdquo; replied the boy, raising himself to a sitting posture, &ldquo;there is
+      nothing in the world to me like flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought boys cared so for flowers,&rdquo; remarked Ruth, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a gardener,&rdquo; said he, simply, and again fell to caressing the roses.
+      Sitting up, he looked fully seventeen or eighteen years old.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must have missed them during your illness,&rdquo; observed Ruth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A long sigh answered her. The boy rested his dreamy eyes upon her. He was
+      no longer ugly, with his thoughts illumining his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marechal Niel,&rdquo; she heard him whisper, still with his eyes upon her, &ldquo;all
+      in soft, radiant robes like a gracious queen. Lady, you fit well next my
+      Homer rose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What Homer rose?&rdquo; asked Ruth, humoring the flower-poet&rsquo;s odd conceit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My strong, brave Homer. There is none like him for strength, with all his
+      gentle perfume folded close to his heart. I used to think these Duchesses
+      would suit him best; but now, having seen you, I know they were too frail,&mdash;Marechal
+      Niel.&rdquo; It was impossible to resent openly the boy&rsquo;s musings; but with a
+      quick insistence that stemmed the current of his thoughts, she said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me where you suffer, Bob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not suffer. I am only weak; but he is nourishing me, and Mrs. Mills
+      brings me what he orders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is there anything you would like to have of which you forgot to tell
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never tell him anything I wish,&rdquo; replied the boy, proudly. &ldquo;He knows
+      beforehand. Did you never draw up close to a delicate flower, lay your
+      cheek softly upon it, so,&mdash;close your eyes, so,&mdash;and listen to
+      the tale it&rsquo;s telling? Well, that is what my good friend does always.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was like listening to music to hear the slow, drawling words of the
+      invalid. Ruth&rsquo;s hand closed softly over his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have some pretty stories at home about flowers,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;would you
+      like to read them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t read very well,&rdquo; answered Bob, in unabashed simplicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet his spoken words were flawless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall read them to you,&rdquo; she answered pleasantly, &ldquo;to-morrow, Bob,
+      say at about three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will come again?&rdquo; The heavy mouth quivered in eager surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes; now that I know you, I must know you better. May I come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, lady!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth went out enveloped in that look of gratitude. It was the first
+      directly personal expression of honest gratitude she had ever received;
+      and as she walked down the hill, she longed to do something that would be
+      really helpful to some one. She had led, on the whole, so far, an
+      egotistic life. Being their only child, her parents expected much of her.
+      During her school-life she had been a sort of human reservoir for all her
+      father&rsquo;s ideas, whims, and hobbies. True, he had made her take a wide
+      interest in everything within the line of vision; hanging on his arm, as
+      they wandered off daily in their peripatetic school, he had imbued her
+      with all his manly nobility of soul. But theorizing does not give much
+      hold on a subject, the mind being taken up with its own clever
+      elucidations. For the past six months, after a year&rsquo;s travel in Europe,
+      her mother had led her on in a whirl of what she called happiness. Ruth
+      had soon gauged the worth of this surface-life, and now that a lull had
+      come, she realized that what she needed was some interest outside of
+      herself,&mdash;an interest which the duties of a mere society girl do not
+      allow to develop to a real good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A plan slowly formed itself in her mind, in which she became so engrossed
+      that she unconsciously crossed the cable of the Jackson Street cars. She
+      did not turn till a hand was suddenly laid upon her arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing in this part of town?&rdquo; broke in Louis Arnold&rsquo;s voice
+      in evident anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Louis, how you startled me! What is the matter with this part of
+      town?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are on a very disreputable street. Where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then be so kind as to turn back with me and take the cars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She glanced at him quickly, unused to his tone of command, and turned with
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you happen to be here?&rdquo; he asked shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp took me to see a poor patient of his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp?&rdquo; surprise raised his eyebrows half an inch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! Then,&rdquo; he continued in cool, biting words, &ldquo;why didn&rsquo;t he carry
+      his charity a little farther and take you home again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I did not choose to go with him,&rdquo; she returned, rearing her head
+      and looking calmly at him as they walked along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! What had your wishing or not wishing to do with it? The man knew
+      where he had taken you even if you did not know. This quarter is occupied
+      by nothing but negroes and foreign loafers. It was decidedly ungentlemanly
+      to leave you to return alone at this time of the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably he gave me credit for being able to take care of myself in broad
+      daylight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably he never gave it a second&rsquo;s thought one way or the other.
+      Hereafter you had better consult your natural protectors before starting
+      out on Quixotic excursions with indifferent strangers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She actually stamped her little foot while walking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop that, please. You are not my keeper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her cousin smiled quizzically. They took their seats on the dummy, just as
+      the sun, a golden ball, was about to glide behind Lone Mountain. Late
+      afternoon is a quiet time, and Ruth and Louis did not speak for a while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was experiencing a whirl of conflicting emotions,&mdash;anger at
+      Louis&rsquo;s interference, pleasure at his protecting care, annoyance at what
+      he considered gross negligence on the doctor&rsquo;s part, and a sneaking pride,
+      in defiance of his insinuations, over the thought that Kemp had trusted to
+      her womanliness as a safeguard against any chance annoyance. She also felt
+      ashamed at having showed temper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis,&rdquo; she ventured finally, rubbing her shoulder against his, as gentle
+      animals conciliate their mates, &ldquo;I am sorry I spoke so harshly; but it
+      exasperates me to hear you cast slurs, as you have done before, upon Dr.
+      Kemp in his absence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should it, my dear, since it give you a chance to uphold him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There is a way of saying &ldquo;my dear&rdquo; that is as mortifying as a slap in the
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dark blood surged over the girl&rsquo;s cheeks. She drew a long, hard
+      breath, and then said in a low voice,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we will not quarrel, Louis. Will you get off at the next corner
+      with me? I have a prescription to be made up at the drug-store.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If Arnold had showed anger, he was man enough not to be ashamed of it;
+      this is one of man&rsquo;s many lordly rights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Jules Levice was slowly gaining the high-road to recovery, and many
+      of the restrictions for her cure had been removed. As a consequence, and
+      with an eye ever to Ruth&rsquo;s social duties, she urged her to leave her more
+      and more to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and his neighborhood
+      before her father&rsquo;s consideration. A Jewish girl&rsquo;s life is an open page to
+      her family. Matters of small as well as of larger moment are freely
+      discussed. The result is that while it robs her of much of her Christian
+      sister&rsquo;s spontaneity, which often is the latter&rsquo;s greatest charm, it also,
+      through the sagacity of more experienced heads, guards her against many
+      indiscretions. This may be a relic of European training, but it enables
+      parents to instil into the minds of their daughters principles which
+      compare favorable with the American girl&rsquo;s native self-reliance. It was as
+      natural for Ruth to consult her father in this trivial matter, in view of
+      Louis&rsquo;s disapproval, as it would be for her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to
+      sally anywhere so long as she herself felt justified in so doing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering the matter,
+      could find no objection, she went. After that it was enough to tell her
+      mother that she was going to see Bob. Mrs. Levice had heard the doctor
+      speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her way she was
+      only too happy to forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Bob&rsquo;s plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty under
+      Ruth&rsquo;s deft fingers. A pot of mignonette in the window, a small painting
+      of exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses,
+      were the food she brought for his poet soul. But there were other
+      substantial things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day after she had replaced the coarse horse-blanket with a soft down
+      quilt, the doctor made one of his bi-weekly visits to her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he stood taking leave of Ruth on the veranda, he turned, with his foot
+      on the last step, and looked up at her as if arrested by a sudden thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Levice,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I should like to give you a friendly scolding.
+      May I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I prevent you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if I were you I should not indulge Bob&rsquo;s love of luxury as you do.
+      He positively refused to get up yesterday on account of the &lsquo;soft feel,&rsquo; 
+      as he termed it, of that quilt. Now, you know, he must get up; he is able
+      to, and in a week I wish to start him in to work again. Then he won&rsquo;t be
+      able to afford such &lsquo;soft feels,&rsquo; and he will rebel. He has had enough
+      coddling for his own good. I really think it is mistaken kindness on your
+      part, Miss Levice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was leaning lightly against one of the supporting columns. A
+      playful smile parted her lips as she listened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;may I give you a little friendly scolding?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have every right.&rdquo; His tone was somewhat earnest, despite his smiling
+      eyes. A man of thirty-five does not resent a friendly scolding from a
+      winsome young girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob of any
+      pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wish it
+      too, and will not be able to have it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wish you to
+      see it as practically as I do. Put sentiment aside, and the only sensible
+      thing to be done now is to prepare him for the hard, uncushioned facts of
+      an active life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why must it be so hard for him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? In the face of the inevitable, that is a time-wasting, useless
+      question. Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, the discovery
+      will not alter the fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek a softer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination,&mdash;circumstance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove the
+      strait-jacket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her lovely face looked very winning, filled with its kindly meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said he, raising his hat and forgetting to replace it as he
+      spoke; &ldquo;that is a gentle truth; some day we shall discuss this further.
+      For the present, use your power in getting Bob upon his feet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; She gave a hurried glance at the door behind her, and ran quickly
+      down to the lowest step. &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; said she, a little breathlessly, &ldquo;I
+      have wished for some time to ask you to let me know when you have any
+      cases that require assistance outside of a physician&rsquo;s,&mdash;such as my
+      father or I might lend. You must have a broad field for such
+      opportunities. Will you think of me then, please?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will,&rdquo; he replied, looking with amused pleasure at her flushed face.
+      &ldquo;Going in for philanthropy, Miss Levice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; going out for it, thank you;&rdquo; and she put her hand into his
+      outstretched one. She watched him step into his carriage; he turned and
+      raised his hat again,&mdash;a trifling circumstance that Ruth dwelt upon
+      with pleasure; a second glance always presupposes an interested first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not fail to keep his promise; and once on the lookout for &ldquo;cases&rdquo;
+       herself, Ruth soon found enough irons in the fire to occupy her spare
+      moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people will
+      either consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely. Don&rsquo;t be
+      unreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy every
+      function in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you. When he
+      asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Friday night,
+      I heard you say you did not know. Now why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that? I never gave it a second&rsquo;s thought. I promised Father to go
+      with him in the afternoon; I did not consider it worth an explanation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, you see, I did. It looks very queer for Louis to be travelling
+      around by himself; couldn&rsquo;t you go again in the evening with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt. If the pictures are good, a second
+      visit will not be thrown away,&mdash;that is, if Louis is really anxious
+      for my companionship. But, &lsquo;I doubt it, I doubt it, I do.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo; returned her mother, somewhat testily. &ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t he
+      be? You are always amiable together, are you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, knitting her brows and pursing her lips drolly, &ldquo;that,
+      methinks, depends on the limits and requirements of amiability. If
+      disputation showeth a friendly spirit, then is my lord overfriendly; for
+      it oft hath seemed of late to pleasure his mood to wax disputations,
+      though, in sooth, lady fair, I have always maintained a wary and decorous
+      demeanor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can imagine,&rdquo; laughed her mother, a little anxiously; &ldquo;then you will
+      go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s
+      exertions bore some fruit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with more enthusiastic
+      theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco. The play was one of
+      the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughly enjoyed. When a great
+      star was heralded, he was in a feverish delight until it had come and
+      gone. When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet little man fully earned the often
+      indiscriminately applied title of &ldquo;crazy Frenchman.&rdquo; A Frenchman is never
+      so much one as when confronted in a foreign land with a great French
+      creation; every fibre in his body answers each charm with an appreciation
+      worked to fever-heat by patriotic love; at such times the play of his
+      emotions precludes any idea of reason to an onlooker. Bernhardt was one of
+      Levice&rsquo;s passions. Booth was another, though he took him more composedly.
+      The first time the latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was
+      &ldquo;Hamlet&rdquo;) the Levices&mdash;that is, Ruth and her father&mdash;went three
+      times in succession to witness his matchless performance, and every
+      succeeding characterization but strengthened their enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Booth was coming again. The announcement had been rapturously hailed by
+      the Levices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be impossible for us to go together, Father,&rdquo; Ruth remarked at
+      the breakfast-table. &ldquo;Louis will have to take me on alternate nights,
+      while you stay at home with Mamma; did you hear, Louis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will hardly need to do that,&rdquo; answered Arnold, lowering his cup; &ldquo;if
+      you and your father prefer going together, I shall enjoy staying with your
+      mother on those nights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks for the offer&mdash;and your evident delight in my company,&rdquo;
+       laughed Ruth; &ldquo;but there is one play at which you must submit to the
+      infliction of my presence. Don&rsquo;t you remember we always wished to see the
+      &lsquo;Merchant of Venice&rsquo; and judge for ourselves his interpretation of the
+      character? Well, I am determined that we shall see it together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When does he play it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A week from Saturday night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be out of town at the end of next
+      week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear? Honestly? Can&rsquo;t you put it off? I want so much to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible. Go with your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know very well neither of us would go off and leave Mamma alone at
+      night. It is horrid of you to go. I am sure you could manage differently
+      if&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, my child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was actually pouting; and her father&rsquo;s quiet tone of surprised
+      reprimand just headed off two great tears that threatened to fall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; she said, trying to smile, and showing an April face instead;
+      &ldquo;but I had just set my heart on going, and with Louis too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That comes of being a spoilt only child,&rdquo; put in Arnold, suavely. &ldquo;You
+      ought to know by this time that of the many plans we make with ourselves,
+      nine out of ten come to nought. Before you set your heart on a thing, be
+      sure you will not have to give it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophic remark
+      with a curled lip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, save your tears for something more worthy,&rdquo; cut in Levice,
+      briskly; &ldquo;if you care so much about it, we or chance must arrange it as
+      you wish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But chance in this instance was not propitious. Wednesday came, and Arnold
+      saw no way of accommodating her. He left town after taking her to see the
+      &ldquo;Fool&rsquo;s Revenge&rdquo; as a sort of substitution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seemed to be enjoying the poor Fool&rsquo;s troubles last night,&rdquo; observed
+      Dr. Kemp, in the morning; they were still standing in Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Not enjoying his troubles; I enjoyed Booth, though,&mdash;if you can
+      call it enjoyment when your heart is ready to break for him. Were you
+      there? I did not see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t suppose you did, or you would have been in the pitiable
+      condition of the princess who had her head turned. I sat directly back of
+      your box, in the dress-circle. Then you like Booth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care! That is a dangerous subject with my family,&rdquo; broke in Mrs.
+      Levice. &ldquo;Ruth has actually exhausted every adjective in her admiration
+      vocabulary. The last extravaganza I heard from her on that theme was after
+      she had seen him as Brutus; she wished herself Lucius, that in the tent
+      scene she might kiss Booth&rsquo;s hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It sounds gushing enough for a school-girl now,&rdquo; laughed Ruth merrily,
+      looking up at the doctor; &ldquo;but at the time I meant it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen him in all his impersonations?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In everything but &lsquo;Shylock.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will have a chance for that on Saturday night. It will be a great
+      farewell performance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Doctor,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Levice, &ldquo;will you please impress it on her that
+      I am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear? She wishes to go
+      Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the ground that I
+      shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town. Is not that being
+      unnecessarily solicitous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without doubt. But,&rdquo; he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, &ldquo;in lieu of
+      a better escort, how would I do, Miss Levice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come with me Saturday night to see &lsquo;Shylock&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To be candid, Ruth was embarrassed. The doctor had said neither &ldquo;will you
+      honor me&rdquo; nor &ldquo;will you please me,&rdquo; but he had both pleased and honored
+      her. She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother. &ldquo;Come now, Mrs.
+      Levice,&rdquo; laughed Kemp, noting the action, &ldquo;will you allow your little girl
+      to go with me? Do not detain me with a refusal; it will be impossible to
+      accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, you know.
+      Good-morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both of
+      mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at his unexpected
+      invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another and quite
+      different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself. Mrs. Levice was
+      in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all means, let her go,&rdquo; replied he; &ldquo;why should you have had any
+      misgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their girls
+      to go out with strangers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that part of our religion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at every little
+      innovation against convention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will they say? Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
+      Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the child.
+      If she wishes to go, don&rsquo;t set an impossible bogy in the way of her
+      enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would if you
+      said to the doctor, &lsquo;I can&rsquo;t let her go on account of people&rsquo;s tongues,&rsquo; 
+      and that is the only honest excuse you can offer.&rdquo; So in his manly,
+      practical way he decided it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale suede
+      glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in her dull
+      sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft dark
+      hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed by the
+      broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told that she
+      was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kemp came in, his
+      open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He came forward hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a little late,&rdquo; he said, taking her hand, &ldquo;but it was unavoidable.
+      Ten minutes to eight,&rdquo; looking at his watch; &ldquo;the horses must make good
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?&rdquo; asked Ruth, for want of
+      something better to say as she turned for her wrap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not feel it,&rdquo; he replied, intercepting her. &ldquo;But this furry thing
+      will keep the cold off, if there is any,&rdquo; he continued, as he held it for
+      her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her throat. A
+      strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so close her
+      own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are your mother and father?&rdquo; He asked, holding the door open, while
+      she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are as usual,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;Father expects to see you after the
+      play. You will come in for a little supper, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That sounds alluring,&rdquo; he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking, as
+      she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that seemed
+      to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter IX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Everybody remembers the sad old comedy, as differently interpreted in its
+      graver sentiment as there are different interpreters. Ruth had seen one
+      who made of Shylock merely a fawning, mercenary, loveless, blood-thirsty
+      wretch. She had seen another who presented a man of quick wit, ready
+      tongue, great dignity, greater vengeance, silent of love, wordy of hate.
+      Booth, without throwing any romantic glamour on the Jew, showed him as God
+      and man, but mostly man, had made him: an old Jew, grown bitter in the
+      world&rsquo;s disfavor through fault of race; grown old in strife for the only
+      worldly power vouchsafed him,&mdash;gold; grown old with but one human
+      love to lighten his hard existence; a man who, at length, shorn of his two
+      loves through the same medium that robbed him of his manly birthright, now
+      turned fiend, endeavors with tooth and nail to wreak the smouldering
+      vengeance of a lifetime upon the chance representative of an inexorable
+      persecution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All through the performance Ruth sat a silent, attentive listener. Kemp,
+      with his ready laugh at Gratiano&rsquo;s sallies, would turn a quick look at her
+      for sympathy; he was rather surprised at the grave, unsmiling face beside
+      him. When, however, the old Jew staggered alone and almost blindly from
+      the triumphantly smiling court-room, a little pinch on his arm decidedly
+      startled him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruth
+      started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she faltered, &ldquo;I&mdash;I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were
+      not Louis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not mind in the least,&rdquo; he assured her easily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great things of
+      life move slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, the
+      latter thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whom
+      turned an interested look at her stalwart escort. Of this she was
+      perfectly aware, but the same human interest with which Kemp&rsquo;s
+      acquaintances regarded her passed by her unnoticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later they were in the fresh, open air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How beautiful it is!&rdquo; said Ruth, looking up at the stars. &ldquo;The wind has
+      entirely died away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;On such a night,&rsquo;&rdquo; quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, &ldquo;a closed
+      carriage seems out of season.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And reason,&rdquo; supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door rather
+      slowly. She glanced at him hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you&mdash;&rdquo; she began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right! I would!&rdquo; The door was banged to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;John,&rdquo; he said, looking up at his man in the box, &ldquo;take this trap round
+      to the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion&rsquo;s little hand through
+      his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, as they turned the corner, &ldquo;Were you satisfied with the
+      great man to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied meditatively, &ldquo;fully; there was no exaggeration,&mdash;it
+      was all quite natural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except Jessica in boy&rsquo;s clothes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t mention her, please; I detest her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet she spoke quite prettily on the night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not hear her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, where were you while all the world was making merry on the stage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not with them; I was with the weary, heart-broken old man who passed out
+      when joy began.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano&rsquo;s jesting. Miss
+      Levice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take too strong
+      a hold on you. It is not right. I assure you for every tear there is a
+      laugh, and you must learn to forget the former in the latter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; replied Ruth, quite sadly; &ldquo;but I fear I cannot learn that,&mdash;tears
+      are always stronger than laughter. How could I listen to the others&rsquo; 
+      nonsense when my heart was sobbing with that lonely old man? Forgive me,
+      but I cannot forget him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked along silently for some time. Instinctively, each felt the
+      perfect accord with which they kept step. Ruth&rsquo;s little ear was just about
+      on a level with the doctor&rsquo;s chin. He hardly felt the soft touch of her
+      hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile of her cheek
+      against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she was there was a
+      pleasing one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you consider the length of our walk when you fell in with my desire?&rdquo;
+       he asked presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like a long walk in pleasant weather; I never tire of walking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have found the essentials of a good pedestrian,&mdash;health and
+      strength.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; if everybody were like me, all your skill would be thrown away,&mdash;I
+      am never ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apparently there is no reason why you should be, with common-sense to
+      back your blessings. If common-sense could be bought at the drug-store, I
+      should be rid of a great many patients.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reminds me of a snatch of conversation I once overheard between my
+      mother and a doctor&rsquo;s wife. I am reminded of it because the spirit of your
+      meaning is diametrically opposed to her own. After some talk my mother
+      asked, &lsquo;And how is the doctor?&rsquo; &lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; replied the visitor, with a long
+      sigh, &lsquo;he&rsquo;s well enough in body, but he&rsquo;s blue, terribly blue; everybody
+      is so well, you know.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her sentiment was more human than humane,&rdquo; laughed Kemp. He was glad to
+      see that she had roused herself from her sad musings; but a certain set
+      purpose he had formed robbed him now of his former lightness of manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to broach a subject that required delicate handling; but an
+      intuitive knowledge of the womanly character of the young girl aided him
+      much. It was not so much what he had seen her do as what he knew she was,
+      that led him to begin his recital.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have a good many blocks before us yet,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I am going to
+      tell you a little story. Why don&rsquo;t you take the full benefit of my arm?
+      There,&rdquo; he proceeded, drawing her hand farther through his arm, &ldquo;now you
+      feel more like a big girl than like a bit of thistledown. If I get
+      tiresome, just call &lsquo;time,&rsquo; will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; she laughed. She was beginning to meet halfway this
+      matter-of-fact, unadorned, friendly manner of his; and when she did meet
+      it, she felt a comfortable security in it. From the beginning to the end
+      of his short narrative he looked straight ahead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How shall I begin? Do you like fairy tales? Well, this is the soul of one
+      without the fictional wings. Once upon a time,&mdash;I think that is the
+      very best introduction extant,&mdash;a woman was left a widow with one
+      little girl. She lived in New Orleans, where the blow of her husband&rsquo;s
+      death and the loss of her good fortune came almost simultaneously. She
+      must have had little moral courage, for as soon as she could, she left her
+      home, not being able to bear the inevitable falling off of friends that
+      follows loss of fortune. She wandered over the intermediate States between
+      here and Louisiana, stopping nowhere long, but endeavoring to keep
+      together the bodies and souls of herself and child by teaching. They kept
+      this up for years until the mother succumbed. They were on the way from
+      Nevada to Los Angeles when she died. The daughter, then not eighteen, went
+      on to Los Angeles, where she buried her mother, and endeavored to continue
+      teaching as she had been doing. She was young, unsophisticated, sad, and
+      in want in a strange town. She applied for advice to a man highly honored
+      and recommended by his fellow-citizens. The man played the brute. The girl
+      fled&mdash;anywhere. Had she been less brave, she would have fled from
+      herself. She came to San Francisco and took a position as nurse-girl;
+      children, she thought, could not play her false, and she might outlive it.
+      The hope was cruel. She was living near my home, had seen my sign
+      probably, and in the extremity of her distress came to me. There is a good
+      woman who keeps a lodging-house, and who delights in doing me favors. I
+      left the poor child in her hands, and she is now fully recovered. As a
+      physician I can do no more for her, and yet melancholy has almost made a
+      wreck of her. Nothing I say has any effect; all she answers is, &lsquo;It isn&rsquo;t
+      worth while.&rsquo; I understand her perfectly, but I wished to infuse into her
+      some of her old spirit of independence. This morning I asked her if she
+      intended to let herself drift on in this way. I may have spoken a little
+      more harshly than necessary, for my words broke down completely the wall
+      of dogged silence she had built around herself. &lsquo;Oh, sir,&rsquo; she cried,
+      weeping like the child she is, &lsquo;what can I do? Can I dare to take little
+      children by the hand, stained as I am? Can I go as an impostor where, if
+      people knew, they would snatch their loved ones from me? Oh, it would be
+      too wretched!&rsquo; I tried to remonstrate with her, told her that the lily in
+      the dust is no less a lily than is her spotless sister held high above
+      contamination. She looked at me miserably from her tear-stained face, and
+      then said, &lsquo;Men may think so, but women don&rsquo;t; a stain with them is
+      ignoble whether made by one&rsquo;s self or another. No woman knowing my story
+      would think me free from dishonor, and hold out her clean hands to me.&rsquo; 
+      &lsquo;Plenty,&rsquo; I contradicted. &lsquo;Maybe,&rsquo; she said humbly; &lsquo;but what would it
+      mean? The hand would be held out at arm&rsquo;s length by women safe in their
+      position, who would not fail to show me how debased they think me. I am
+      young yet; can you show me a girl, like myself in years, but white as
+      snow, kept safe from contamination, as you say, who, knowing my story,
+      would hold out her hand to me and not feel herself besmirched by the
+      contact? Do not say you can, for I know you cannot.&rsquo; She was crying so
+      violently that she would not listen to me. When I left her, I myself could
+      think of none of my young friends to whom I could propound the question. I
+      know many sweet, kind girls, but I could count not one among them all who
+      in such a case would be brave as she was womanly&mdash;until I thought of
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Complete silence followed his words. He did not turn his glance from the
+      street ahead of him. He had made no appeal, would make none, in fact. He
+      had told the story with scarcely a reflection on its impropriety, that
+      would have arrested another man from introducing such an element into his
+      gentle fellowship with a girl like Ruth. His lack of hesitancy was born of
+      his manly view of the outcast&rsquo;s blamelessness, of her dire necessity for
+      help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be as free from the
+      artificiality of conventional surface modesty as was he, through the
+      earnestness of the undertaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something very sweet to a woman in being singled out by a man for
+      some ennobling virtue. Ruth felt this so strongly that she could almost
+      hear her heart beat with the intoxicating knowledge. No question had been
+      asked, but she felt an answer was expected. Yet had her life depended on
+      it, the words could not have come at that moment. Was she indeed what he
+      esteemed her? Unconsciously Dr. Kemp had, in thought, placed her on a
+      pedestal. Did she deserve the high place he had given her, or would she?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With many women the question would have been, did she care for Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s
+      good opinion? Now, though Ruth was indeed put on her mettle, her quick
+      sympathy had been instantly touched by the girl&rsquo;s miserable story. Perhaps
+      the doctor&rsquo;s own feelings had influenced her, but had the girl stood
+      before her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with all her own
+      gentle nobility of soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth&rsquo;s house stood, Kemp said
+      deliberately,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you. Where does she live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughts
+      within. They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gate before
+      he answered. When he did, after they had passed through, he took both her
+      hands in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall take you there,&rdquo; he said, looking down at her with grave, smiling
+      eyes; &ldquo;I knew you would not fail me. When shall I call for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not call for me at all; I think&mdash;I know it will be better for me
+      to walk in alone, as of my own accord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes!&rdquo; he said, and told her the address. She ran lightly up the
+      steps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pair of
+      starry eyes to his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I have had an exceptionally lovely evening. I shall
+      not soon forget it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gently
+      raised her gloved hand to his lips. Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of the
+      old school in his manner of showing reverence to women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brave young friend!&rdquo; he said; and the next minute his firm footfall
+      was crunching the gravel of the walk. Neither of them had remembered that
+      he was to have come in with her. She waited till the gate clicked behind
+      him, and then softly closed the heavy door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brave young friend!&rdquo; The words mounted like wine to her head. She
+      forgot her surroundings and stood in a sweet dream in the hall, slowly
+      unbuttoning her glove. She must have remained in this attitude for five
+      minutes, when, raising her eyes, still shadowy with thought, she saw her
+      cousin before her down the hall, his arm resting on the newel-post.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis!&rdquo; she cried in surprise; and without considering, she hurried to
+      him, threw her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Arnold,
+      taken by storm, stepped slightly back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did you get home?&rdquo; she asked, the pale rose-flush that mantled her
+      cheeks making her face exquisite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A half an hour ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you tired, Louis?&rdquo; she inquired gently. &ldquo;You are somewhat pale, and
+      you speak in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you enjoy the play?&rdquo; he asked quietly, passing by her remarks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The play!&rdquo; she echoed, and then a quick burning blush suffused her face.
+      The epilogue had wholly obliterated the play from her recollection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course,&rdquo; she responded, turning from the rather sardonic smile of
+      his lips and seating herself on the stairs; &ldquo;do you want to hear about it
+      now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she began, laying her gloves in her lap and snuggling her chin in
+      the palms of her hands, &ldquo;shall I tell you how I felt about it? In the
+      first place, I was not ashamed of Shylock; if his vengeance was distorted,
+      the cause distorted it. But, oh, Louis, the misery of that poor old man!
+      After all, his punishment was as fiendish as his guilt. Booth was great. I
+      wish you could have seen the play of his wonderful eyebrow and the
+      eloquence of his fine hand. Poor old, lonely Shylock! With all his
+      intellect, how could he regret that wretched little Jessica?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a Jewish father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How singularly you say that! Of course he was a Jew; but Jewish hardly
+      describes him,&mdash;at least, according to the modern idea. Are you
+      coming up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Go on; I will lower the gas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t you like something to eat or drink? You look so worn out; let me
+      get you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks; I have dined. Good-night.&rdquo; The girl passed on to her pretty white
+      and gold room. Shylock had again fled from her memory, but there was
+      singing in her heart a deep, grave voice saying,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brave young friend!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter X
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A humble bard presents his respects to my Lady Marechal Niel, and begs
+      her to step down to the gate for about two minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The note was handed to Ruth early the next morning as she stood in the
+      kitchen beating up eggs for an omelette for her mother&rsquo;s breakfast. A
+      smile of mingled surprise and amusement overspread her face as she read;
+      instinctively turning the card, she saw, &ldquo;Herbert Kemp, M. D.,&rdquo; in simple
+      lithograph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I look all right, Mary?&rdquo; she asked hurriedly, placing the bowl on the
+      table and half turning to the cook as she walked to the door. Mary
+      deliberately placed both hands on her hips and eyed her sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And striped flannel dresses and hairs in braids,&rdquo; she began, as she
+      always did, as if continuing a thought, &ldquo;being nice, pretty flannel and
+      nice, pretty braids, Miss Ruth do look sweet-like, which is nothing out of
+      the common, for she always do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The last was almost shouted after Ruth, who had run from the cook&rsquo;s
+      prolixity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she hurried down the walk, she recognized the doctor&rsquo;s carriage,
+      containing the doctor himself with Bob in state beside him. Two hands went
+      up to two respective hats as the gate swung behind her, and she advanced
+      with hand extended to Bob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are looking much better,&rdquo; she exclaimed heartily, shaking the rather
+      bashfully outstretched hand; &ldquo;your first outing, is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, lady.&rdquo; It had been impossible for her to make him call her by name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He elected to pay his first devoirs to the Queen of Roses, as he
+      expressed it,&rdquo; spoke up Kemp, with his disengaged hand on the boy&rsquo;s
+      shoulder, and looking with a puzzled expression at Ruth. Last night she
+      had been a young woman; this morning she was a young girl; it was only
+      after he had driven off that he discovered the cause lay in the
+      arrangement of her hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Bob; presently I expect to have you paying me a visit on foot,
+      when we can come to a clearer understanding about my flower-beds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He says,&rdquo; returned the boy, turning an almost humbly devoted look on
+      Kemp, &ldquo;that I must not think of gardening for some weeks. And so&mdash;and
+      so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so,&rdquo; explained the doctor, briskly, &ldquo;he is going to hold my reins on
+      our rounds, and imbibe a world of sunshine to expend on some flowers&mdash;yours
+      or mine, perhaps&mdash;by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bob&rsquo;s eyes were luminous with feeling as they rested on the dark, bearded
+      face of his benefactor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now say all you have to say, and we&rsquo;ll be off,&rdquo; said Kemp, tucking in the
+      robe at Bob&rsquo;s side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t have anything to say, sir; I came only to let her know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am so glad, Bob,&rdquo; said Ruth, smiling up into the boy&rsquo;s shy,
+      speaking eyes. People always will try to add to the comfort of a
+      convalescent, and Ruth, in turn, drew down the robe over the lad&rsquo;s hands.
+      As she did so, her cousin, Jennie Lewis, passed hurriedly by. Her quick
+      blue eyes took in to a detail the attitudes of the trio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, Jennie,&rdquo; said Ruth, turning; &ldquo;are you coming in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not now,&rdquo; bowing stiffly and hurrying on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cabbage-rose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Bob delivered himself of this sentiment as gently as if he had let fall a
+      pearl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor gave a quick look at Ruth, which she met, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He cannot help his inspiration,&rdquo; she remarked easily, and stepped back as
+      the doctor pulled the reins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come again, Bob,&rdquo; she called, and with a smile to Kemp she ran in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I was going to say,&rdquo; continued Mary, as she re-entered the kitchen,
+      &ldquo;that a speck of aig splashed on your cheek, Miss Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mary, where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not knowin&rsquo; that you would see anybody, I didn&rsquo;t think to run after
+      you; so it&rsquo;s just this side your mouth, like if you hadn&rsquo;t wiped it good
+      after breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth rubbed it off, wondering with vexation if the doctor had noticed it.
+      Truth to say, the doctor had noticed it, and naturally placed the same
+      passing construction on it that Mary had suggested. Not that the little
+      yellow splash occupied much of his attention. When he drove off, all he
+      thought of Ruth&rsquo;s appearance was that her braided hair hung gracefully and
+      heavily down her back; that she looked young,&mdash;decidedly young and
+      missish; and that he had probably spoken indiscreetly and impulsively to
+      the wrong person on a wrong subject the night before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dress has a subtile influence upon our actions: one gown can make a romp,
+      another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette, out of
+      the same woman. The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to the fitness
+      or unfitness of dress. Now, Ruth was without doubt the same girl who had
+      so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor&rsquo;s unconventional story;
+      but the fashion of her gown had changed the impression she had made a few
+      hours back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later, and Dr. Kemp could not have failed to recognize Ruth, the
+      woman of his confidence. Something, perhaps a dormant spirit of
+      worldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of her
+      going out. She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisability of
+      her action; but the certain knowledge of her mother&rsquo;s disapproval of such
+      a proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, would have cost
+      her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act. A bit of subterfuge which hurts no
+      one is often not only excusable, but commendable. Besides, it saved her
+      mother an annoying controversy; and so, fully satisfied as to her part,
+      Ruth took her way down the street. The question as to whether the doctor
+      had gone beyond the bounds of their brief acquaintance had of course been
+      presented to her mind; but if a slight flush came into her face when she
+      remembered the nature of the narrative and the personality of the
+      narrator, it was quickly banished by the sweet assurance that in this way
+      he had honored her beyond the reach of current flattery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave brown
+      eyes; with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, and she
+      longed to do it well. Her purpose robbed her of every trace of
+      nervousness; and it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knocked at
+      room Number 10 on the second floor of a respectable lodging-house on Polk
+      Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly. At
+      this a tired voice called, &ldquo;Come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in a
+      small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near the window,
+      but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to be a
+      golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the chair,
+      and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruth hesitated
+      after closing the door behind her, she found a pair of listless violet
+      eyes regarding her from a small white face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; queried the girl, without changing her position except to allow
+      her gaze to travel to the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are Miss Rose Delano?&rdquo; said Ruth, as she came a step nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What of that?&rdquo; Asked the girl, lifelessly, her dull eyes wandering
+      everywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp. Will that introduction be enough
+      to make you shake hands with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She advanced toward her, holding out her hand. A burning flame shot across
+      Rose Delano&rsquo;s face, and she shrank farther back among her pillows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, putting up a repellent hand; &ldquo;it is not enough. Do not
+      touch me, or you will regret it. You must not, I say.&rdquo; She arose quickly
+      from her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth. The latter, taller than
+      she by head and shoulders, looked down at her smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know no reason why I must not,&rdquo; she replied gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not know me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but I know of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did you come; why don&rsquo;t you go?&rdquo; The blue eyes looked with
+      passionate resentment at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you wish to do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I wish to be your friend. May we not be friends? I am not much
+      older than you, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are centuries younger. Who sent you here? Dr. Kemp?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one sent me; I came of my own free will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then go as you came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood gracefully and quietly before her. Rose Delano moved farther
+      from her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not know what you are doing,&rdquo; cried the girl, excitedly; &ldquo;have you
+      no father or mother, no one to tell you what a girl should not do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have both; but I have also a friend,&mdash;Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is my friend too,&rdquo; affirmed Rose, tremulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we have one good thing in common; and since he is my friend and
+      yours, why should we not be friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he is a man, and you are a woman. He has then told you my story?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here&mdash;to such a creature as
+      I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you. But, oh, little one,
+      I do so grieve for you because you won&rsquo;t believe that the world is not all
+      merciless. Come, give me your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as the other
+      advanced; &ldquo;go away, please. You are very good, but you are very foolish.
+      Bad as I am, however, I shall not let you harm yourself more; leave my
+      room, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till I have held your hands in mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop! I tell you I don&rsquo;t want you to come here; I don&rsquo;t want your
+      friendship. Can&rsquo;t you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheart will
+      upbraid you if you fail to carry out his will?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sweetheart?&rdquo; she asked in questioning wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; only a lover could make a girl like you so forget herself. I speak
+      of Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he is not my lover,&rdquo; she stated, still speaking gently, but with a
+      pale face turned to her companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;beg your pardon,&rdquo; faltered the girl, humbly drooping her
+      head, shamed by the cold pride in her tormentor&rsquo;s face; &ldquo;but why, oh, why,
+      then, won&rsquo;t you go?&rdquo; she continued, wildly sobbing. &ldquo;I assure you it is
+      best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is best,&rdquo; said Ruth, deliberately; and before Rose knew it she had
+      seized her two hands, and unclasping them from behind her, drew them to
+      her own breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; she said, holding them tightly, &ldquo;who is the stronger, you or I?&rdquo;
+       She looked pleasantly down at the tear-stained face so close to hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O God!&rdquo; breathed the girl, her storm-beaten eyes held by the power of her
+      captor&rsquo;s calmness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we are friends,&rdquo; said Ruth, softly, &ldquo;shall we sit down and talk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still holding the slender hands, she drew up a chair, and seating the
+      frail girl in the armchair, sat down beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, wait!&rdquo; whispered Rose; &ldquo;let me tell you everything before you make me
+      live again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know everything; and truly, Rose, nothing you can say could make me
+      wish to befriend you less.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How nobly, how kindly he must have told you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! He told me nothing but the truth. To me you are a victim, not a
+      culprit. And now, tell me, do you feel perfectly strong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo; The little hand swept in agony over her sad, childish face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you ought to go out for a nice walk. You have no idea how pleasant
+      it is this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t, indeed I can&rsquo;t! and, oh, why should I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can and you must, because you must go to work soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two frightened eyes were raised to hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she added, patting the hand she held; &ldquo;you are a teacher, are you
+      not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was,&rdquo; she replied, the catch in her voice still audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you used to teaching?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spanish, and English literature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spanish&mdash;with your blue eyes!&rdquo; The sudden outburst of surprise sent
+      a faint April-like beam into Rose&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Si, Senorita.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you must teach me. Let me see. Wednesdays,&mdash;Wednesday
+      afternoon, yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the frightened eyes appealed to her; but Ruth ignored them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so many of my friends would like to speak Spanish. Will you teach
+      them too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Levice, how can I go with such a past?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you,&rdquo; said Ruth, proudly rearing her head, &ldquo;if I introduce you as
+      my friend, you are, you must be, presentable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pale lips strove to answer her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow I shall come with a number of names of girls who are &lsquo;dying,&rsquo; 
+      as they say, to speak Spanish, and then you can go and make arrangements
+      with them. Will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus pushed to the wall, Rose&rsquo;s tear-filled eyes were her only answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s own filled in turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear little Rose,&rdquo; she said, her usual sweet voice coming back to her,
+      &ldquo;won&rsquo;t it be lovely to do this? You will feel so much better when you once
+      get out and are earning your independent, pleasant living again. And now
+      will you forgive me for having been so harsh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive you!&rdquo; A red spot glowed on each pallid cheek; she raised her eyes
+      and said with simple fervor, &ldquo;I would die for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but you may live for me,&rdquo; laughed Ruth, rising; &ldquo;will you promise me
+      to go out this morning, just for a block or two?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, good-by.&rdquo; She held out her hand meaningly; a little
+      fluttering one was placed in hers, and Ruth bent and kissed the wistful
+      mouth. That pure kiss would have wiped out every stain from Rose&rsquo;s
+      worshipping soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall see you to-morrow surely,&rdquo; she called back, turning a radiant
+      face to the lonely little figure in the doorway. She felt deliriously
+      happy as she ran down the stairs; her eyes shone like stars; a buoyant
+      joyfulness spoke in her step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so easy to be happy when one has everything,&rdquo; she mused. She forgot
+      to add, &ldquo;And gives much.&rdquo; There is so much happiness derived from a kind
+      action that were it not for the motive, charity might be called supreme
+      selfishness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged to
+      take Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been ill
+      and was in want.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I was thinking,&rdquo; she added with naive policy, &ldquo;that I might combine a
+      little business with pleasure this afternoon,&mdash;pay off some of those
+      ever urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time try to
+      get up a class of pupils for Miss Delano. What do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be nice; don&rsquo;t forget Mrs. Bunker. I know you don&rsquo;t like her,
+      but you must pay a call for the musical which we did not attend; and she
+      has children who might like to learn Spanish. I wonder if I could take
+      lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet so old but I may
+      learn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might ask the doctor. He has almost dismissed himself now; and after
+      we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in a class.
+      Mother and daughter can then go to school together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very fortunate,&rdquo; Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping her
+      necessary glass of port, &ldquo;that C&mdash;&mdash; sent your hat this morning
+      to wear with your new gown. Isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fortunate!&rdquo; Ruth exclaimed, laughing banteringly; &ldquo;it is destiny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Mrs. Levice slipped easily into Ruth&rsquo;s plan from a social standpoint,
+      and Ruth slipped out, trim and graceful, from her mother&rsquo;s artistic
+      manipulations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till her
+      husband&rsquo;s return, which promised to be early in the afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis came
+      bustling in. Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; one
+      looked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which one
+      anticipates the latest number of a society journal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther,&rdquo; she said after they had
+      exchanged greetings. &ldquo;I have brought my work, so I shall not mind the
+      quiet in the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if I would bore you in that way!&rdquo; returned Mrs. Levice, with a
+      laughing glance at her, as she closed her desk. &ldquo;Lay off your things, and
+      let us have a downright comfortable afternoon. Don&rsquo;t forget a single
+      sensation; I am actually starving for one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lewis smiled grimly as she fluffed up her bang with her hat-pin. She
+      drew up a second cosey rocking-chair near her aunt&rsquo;s, drew out her needle
+      and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, her tongue
+      soon acquired its accustomed momentum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Ruth?&rdquo; she began, winding her thread round her chubby,
+      ring-bedecked finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is paying off some calls for a change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! Got down to conventionality again?&rdquo; &ldquo;You would not call her
+      unconventional, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly. Without doubt there was an
+      underground mine beneath this non-committal remark. Mrs. Lewis rocked
+      violently backward and forward without raising her eyes. Her face was
+      beet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent. Mrs. Levice
+      waited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousin
+      disapproved of so obviously. She like Jennie; every one who knew her
+      recognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew her
+      agreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, to Mrs.
+      Lewis&rsquo;s imagination, and these airy comfits were passed around
+      promiscuously to whoever was on hand. Not a sound broke the portentous
+      silence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needle
+      through, and the hurricane she raised with her rocking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was at the theatre last night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blow drew no blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which theatre?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Levice, innocently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Baldwin; Booth played the &lsquo;Merchant of Venice.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you enjoy it?&rdquo; queried her aunt, either evading or failing to
+      perceive the meaning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did.&rdquo; A pause, and then, &ldquo;Did Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at no
+      perturbation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much. Booth is her actor-idol, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have heard.&rdquo; She spread her crochet work on her knee as if measuring
+      its length, then with striking indifference picked it up again and
+      adjusted her needle,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She came in rather late, didn&rsquo;t she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she?&rdquo; questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirect
+      thrusts. &ldquo;I did not know; had the curtain risen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; there was plenty of time for every one to recognize her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea she was so well known.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those who did not know her, knew her escort. Dr. Kemp is well known, and
+      his presence is naturally remarked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; his appearance is very striking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Esther!&rdquo; The vehemence of Mrs. Lewis&rsquo;s feelings sent her ball of
+      cotton rolling to the other end of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, what is it?&rdquo; Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interested
+      eyes on her niece.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruth
+      with Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman but
+      Uncle or Louis, and we all were surprised. The Hoffmans sat behind us, and
+      Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant. I met several
+      acquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made some
+      remark about Ruth. One said, &lsquo;I had no idea the Levices were so intimate
+      with Dr. Kemp;&rsquo; another young girl laughed and said, &lsquo;Ruth Levice had a
+      swell escort last night, didn&rsquo;t she?&rsquo; Still another asked, &lsquo;Anything on
+      the tapis in your family, Mrs. Lewis?&rsquo; And what could I say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s quiet tone did not betray her vexation. She had feared just
+      such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but her husband&rsquo;s
+      views had overruled hers, and she was now bound to uphold his.
+      Nevertheless, she hated anything of the kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I simply said I knew nothing at all about it, except that he was your
+      physician. Even if I had known, I wouldn&rsquo;t have said more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no more to be said. Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendly
+      through their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in the course
+      of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious to see this
+      play, and had no escort. So he asked her, and her father saw no objection
+      to her going. It is a pity she didn&rsquo;t think to hand round a written
+      explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you go, Aunt Esther! Jewish friends! I am sure that no matter how
+      indifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewish
+      girls never go alone to the theatre with any one outside of the family,
+      and certainly not with a Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has that to do with it, so long as he is a gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. Only I didn&rsquo;t think you cared to have Ruth&rsquo;s name coupled with
+      one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nor with any one. But as I cannot control people&rsquo;s tongues&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I would not give them cause for wagging. Aunt Esther, is there
+      anything between Ruth and Dr. Kemp?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jennie, you surprise and anger me. Do you know what you insinuate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it. Either you are crazy, or ignorant of what is going on,
+      and I consider it my duty to enlighten you,&rdquo;&mdash;a gossip&rsquo;s duties are
+      all away from home,&mdash;&ldquo;unless, of course, you prefer to remain in
+      blissful or wilful ignorance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak out, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I knew you must have sanctioned her going last night, though, I
+      must confess, I still think you did very wrongly; but do you know where
+      she went this morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice was put out. She was enough of a Jewess to realize that if you
+      dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowly
+      conventional Jewish pathway. That Ruth, her only daughter, should be the
+      subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; but that
+      her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed her beyond
+      endurance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do know,&rdquo; she said in response to the foregoing question. &ldquo;Ruth is not
+      a sneak,&mdash;she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mild
+      that there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on a poor
+      young girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A friend of Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate,
+      lost her child at its birth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The faint flush on Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s cheek receded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you this?&rdquo; she questioned in an even, low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you could not know. Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girl
+      lives, told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you. Mrs. Blake does my white sewing. I was there this
+      morning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving another
+      farther down the hall. Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room, and
+      she told me the story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally.&rdquo; The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me it was; and in this case,&rdquo; she retorted with rising accents, &ldquo;my
+      vulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account of
+      the girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth is
+      the only visitor she has had.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry to hear this, Jennie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are, Aunt Esther. But what I find so very queer is that Dr.
+      Kemp, who pretends to be her friend,&mdash;and I have seen them together
+      many times,&mdash;should have sent her there. Don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not understand it at all,&mdash;neither Ruth nor him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely you don&rsquo;t think Ruth knew anything of this?&rdquo; questioned Mrs.
+      Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely. She had long ago
+      acknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter&rsquo;s nature
+      that she had never gauged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a man
+      nevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck me as
+      very suggestive that he was that girl&rsquo;s only friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Therefore he must have been a good friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr.
+      Levice, who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Levice breathed
+      a sigh of hysterical relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-afternoon, Jennie,&rdquo; he said, coming into the room and shaking her
+      hand; &ldquo;sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;&rdquo; he stooped to kiss his
+      wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lewis&rsquo;s hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed. She
+      had been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the head and
+      pride of the whole family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you are so
+      poor as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which you evidently
+      know nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views to yourself.&rdquo; It was
+      the habit of all of Levice&rsquo;s relatives to listen in silence to any
+      personal reprimand the dignified old man might offer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterize it
+      as&mdash;petty. Can&rsquo;t you and your friends see anything without springing
+      at shilling-shocker conclusions? Don&rsquo;t you know that people sometimes
+      enjoy themselves without any further design? So much for the theatre talk.
+      What is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge my honorable
+      friend, Dr. Kemp. Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be as remote from
+      Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s possibilities as the antipodes. Remember, what I say is
+      indisputable. Whether Ruth knew the story of this girl or not, I cannot
+      say, but either way I feel assured that what she did was well done&mdash;if
+      innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better. And I venture to assert
+      that she is not a whit harmed by the action. In all probability she will
+      tell us all the particulars if we ask her. Otherwise, Jennie, don&rsquo;t you
+      think you have been unnecessarily alarmed?&rdquo; The benign gentleness of his
+      question calmed Mrs. Lewis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle,&rdquo; she replied earnestly, &ldquo;in my life such things are not trivial;
+      perhaps because my life is narrower. I know you and Ruth take a different
+      view of everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradicted or
+      to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared to change
+      them. A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the level of a
+      spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, for it is
+      more deadly than a sword. Your higher interests should make you overlook
+      every little action of your neighbors. You only see or hear what takes
+      place when the window is open; you can never judge from this what takes
+      place when the window is shut. How are the children?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By dint of great tenderness he strove to make her more at ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, confronted with their knowledge, confessed, with flushed cheeks and
+      glowing eyes, her contretemps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; she said in conclusion, &ldquo;Father, Mamma, nothing you can say will
+      make me retract anything I have done or purpose doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing?&rdquo; repeated her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you won&rsquo;t ask me to, but that is my decision.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My darling, I dislike to hear you call yourself a mule,&rdquo; said her father,
+      looking at her with something softer than disapproval; &ldquo;but in this case I
+      shall not use the whip to turn you from your purpose. Eh, Esther?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Quixotic,&rdquo; affirmed Mrs. Levice; &ldquo;but since you have gone so far,
+      there is no reasonable way of getting out of it. When next I see the
+      doctor, I shall speak to him of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will be no occasion, dear,&rdquo; remonstrated the indulgent father, at
+      sight of the annoyed flash in Ruth&rsquo;s eyes; &ldquo;I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not so smooth
+      as one of many children may think; every action of the former assumes such
+      prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and very often sent to
+      Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-lucky offspring has his
+      little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked, through the propinquity
+      of others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      If Ruth, in the privacy of her heart, realized that she was sailing toward
+      dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears. Possibly
+      she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smooth stream of
+      delight. When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warning black lurking
+      in the far horizon. Without doubt the girl&rsquo;s soul and sympathies were
+      receiving their proper food. Life was full for her, not because she was
+      occupied,&mdash;for a busy life does not always prove a full one,&mdash;but
+      because she entered thoroughly into the lives of others, struggled with
+      their struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and was beginning to see in
+      everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence. Under ordinary
+      circumstances one cannot see much misery without experiencing a world of
+      disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; but Ruth was not living just
+      at that time under ordinary circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that made
+      her pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twin
+      dreamstars. She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard save
+      only by herself. At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly name to
+      herself the meaning of it all, a puritanic modesty withheld her. Yet all
+      the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banish from her
+      memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light that fell from eyes
+      that glanced at her. For the present, these were grace sufficient for her
+      daily need. Given the perfume, what need to name the flower?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in their
+      different ways. Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she was
+      growing more softly beautiful. Her father, holding his hands a few inches
+      from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzled look, &ldquo;I am
+      afraid to touch you; sparks might fly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her hands
+      clasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting in the
+      witchery of their expression. By some occult power her glance fell
+      unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement and
+      speculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands went
+      swiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, and
+      she passed quickly from the room. Arnold sat down to solve this problem of
+      an unknown quantity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting with Rose
+      Delano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consisted only
+      in making the day pass pleasantly for the one whose day of days it was,&mdash;a
+      graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one for all
+      concerned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in her
+      element. She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had worn five
+      years before on the occasion of some festivity. The girlish fashion of the
+      white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, the round baby
+      waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who can imagine me seventeen?&rdquo; she asked gayly as she entered the
+      library, softly lighted by many wax candles. Her mother, who was again
+      enjoying the freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced in her
+      own particular chair, looked up at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That little frock makes me long to take you in my lap,&rdquo; said she,
+      brightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it makes me long to be there,&rdquo; answered Ruth, throwing herself into
+      her mother&rsquo;s arms and twining her arms about her neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How now, Mr. Arnold, you can&rsquo;t scare me tonight with your sarcastic
+      disapproval!&rdquo; she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousin seated
+      in a deep blue-cushioned chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no desire to scare you, little one,&rdquo; he answered pleasantly. &ldquo;I
+      only do that to children or grown-up people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what am I, pray, good sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are neither; you are neither child or woman; you are neither flesh
+      nor spirit; you are uncanny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me! In other words, I am a conundrum. Who will guess me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are the Sphinx,&rdquo; replied her cousin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t be that ugly-faced thing,&rdquo; she retorted; &ldquo;guess again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible. Once acquire a sphinx&rsquo;s elusiveness and you are a mystery
+      perpetual. You alone can unriddle the riddle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t. I give myself up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so fast, young woman,&rdquo; broke in her father, shutting his magazine and
+      settling his glasses more firmly upon his nose; &ldquo;that is an office I alone
+      can perform. Who has been hunting on my preserves?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score.&rdquo; She sat up
+      with a forlorn sigh, adding, &ldquo;Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and not a
+      heart to hang on my chatelaine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays,&rdquo; said Louis, reassuringly; &ldquo;I
+      am sure you have mittened one or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she answered, laughing evasively, &ldquo;both of little Toddie
+      Flynn&rsquo;s. Mamma, don&rsquo;t you think I am too big a baby for you to hold long?&rdquo;
+       She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father&rsquo;s chair, exclaimed,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it short
+      and sweet and with a moral like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once upon a time,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;a little boy went into his father&rsquo;s
+      warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but he was
+      so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him. That is short and sweet; and
+      what is the moral?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Selfishness brings misery,&rdquo; answered Ruth, promptly; &ldquo;clever of both of
+      us, but what is the analogy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feel
+      as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And get scorched for my pains? Thanks; this is very comfortable. Distance
+      adds to illusion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean to admit you have any illusions, do you? Why, those
+      glasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Did you
+      ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; there is a standing institution of whose honest value there is no
+      doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After all, it is a lying institution, my friend; and are you not deposing
+      your masculine muse,&mdash;your cigar? Oh, that reminds me of the annual
+      peace-pipe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She jumped up, snatched a candle, and left the room. As she turned toward
+      the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell. She stood
+      quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Miss Levice in?&rdquo; asked the voice that made the little candle-light
+      seem like myriads of swimming stars. As the maid answered in the
+      affirmative, she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancing
+      eyes of Dr. Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening,&rdquo; she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which he
+      grasped and shook heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it Santa Filomena?&rdquo; he asked, smiling into her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, only Ruth Levice, who is pleased to see you. Will you step into the
+      library? We are having a little home evening together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Directly.&rdquo; He slipped out of his topcoat, and turning quietly
+      to her, said, &ldquo;But before we go in, and I enact the odd number, I wish to
+      say a few words to you alone, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bent a look of inquiry upon him, and meeting the gaze of his
+      compelling eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room. He noticed
+      how the soft light she held made her the only white spot in the dark room,
+      till, touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo over everything.
+      That it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at a glance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself in a
+      quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread like
+      hands of blessing above her head. The doctor declined to sit down, but
+      stood with one hand upon the fragile table and looked down at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am inclined to think, after all,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;that you are in
+      truth the divine lady with the light. It is a pretty name and a pretty
+      fame,&mdash;that of Santa Filomena.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What had come over her eyelids that they refused to be raised?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he continued with a low laugh, &ldquo;that I shall always call you
+      so, and have all rights reserved. May I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she answered, raising her eyes, &ldquo;that your poem would be
+      without rhyme or reason; a candle is too slight a thing for such an
+      assumption.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not a Rose Delano. I saw her to-day, and at least one sufferer would
+      turn to kiss your shadow. Do you know what a wonderfully beautiful thing
+      you have done? I came to-night to thank you; for any one who makes good
+      our ideals is a subject for thanks. Of course, the thing had no personal
+      bearing upon myself; but being an officious fellow, I thought it proper to
+      let you know that I know. That is my only excuse for coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you need an excuse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, or an invitation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I never thought of you&mdash;as&mdash;as&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How to answer this? Then finally she said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As caring to waste an evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would it be a waste? There is an old adage that one might adapt, then, &lsquo;A
+      wilful waste makes a woful want.&rsquo; Want is a bad thing, so economy would
+      not be a half-bad idea. Shall we go in to your family now, or will they
+      not think you have been spirited away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the candle from her, and they retraced their steps. As she turned
+      the handle of the door, she said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you give me the candle, please, and walk in? I am going upstairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you coming down again?&rdquo; he asked, standing abruptly still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. Father,&rdquo; she called, opening wide the door, &ldquo;here is Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this announcement she fled up the staircase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had come up for some cigars; but when she got into her father&rsquo;s room,
+      she seated herself blindly and looked aimlessly down at her hands. What a
+      blessed reprieve this was! If she could but stay here! She could if it
+      were not for the peace-pipe. Such a silly performance too! Father kept
+      those superfine cigars over in the cabinet there. Should she bring only
+      two as usual? Then she was going? Why not? It would look very rude not to
+      do so. Besides, she wondered what they were talking about. She supposed
+      she must have looked very foolish in that gown with her hair all mussed;
+      and then his eyes&mdash;&mdash; She arose suddenly and walked to the
+      dressing-table with her light. After all, it was not very unbecoming. Had
+      her face been so white all the evening? Louis liked her face to be
+      colorless. Oh, she had better hurry down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here comes the chief!&rdquo; cried her mother as she entered. &ldquo;Now, Doctor, you
+      can see the native celebrating her natal day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She enacts the witch,&rdquo; said her father &ldquo;and sends us, living, to the
+      happy hunting-grounds. Will you join us, Doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If Lachesis thinks me worthy. Is the operation painful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He received no answer as Ruth came forward with a box of tempting Havanas.
+      She selected one, and placing the box on a chair, reached to the
+      high-tiled mantel-shelf, whence she took a tiny pair of scissors and
+      deftly cut off the point of the cigar. She seemed quite unconscious that
+      all were watching her. Louis handed her a lighted match, and putting the
+      cigar between her lips, she lit it into life. The doctor was amused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She blew up a wreath of the fragrant smoke and handing it to her father,
+      said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With this year&rsquo;s love, Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor grew interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took another, and lighting it as gracefully, and without the slightest
+      approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis&rsquo;s outstretched hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he suggested, holding it from his lips till she had spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can think of nothing you care for sufficiently to wish you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; with sudden mischief, &ldquo;I wish you a comfortable bed all the year
+      round&mdash;and pleasant dreams, Louis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is much,&rdquo; he answered dryly as he drew a cloud of smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor became anticipative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s embarrassment was evident as she turned and offered him a cigar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you smoke?&rdquo; she asked, holding out the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like a chimney,&rdquo; he replied, looking at her, but taking none, &ldquo;and in the
+      same manner as other common mortals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hint
+      his words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, saying as
+      he did so, &ldquo;So you were born in summer,&mdash;the time of all good things.
+      Well, &lsquo;Thy dearest wish, wish I thee,&rsquo; and may it not pass in the
+      smoking!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She swept him a deep, mock courtesy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation. She
+      knew that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages for a
+      bachelor of club life over home life. She knew that Louis was making some
+      brilliantly cynical remarks,&mdash;asserting that the apparent privacy of
+      the latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the former was
+      deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter. All of which the
+      doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor,&rdquo; Mrs. Levice
+      summed up, &ldquo;and that is to marry. Louis complains of the club, and thinks
+      himself a sort of cynosure in a large household. You, Doctor, complain of
+      the want of coseyness in a bachelor establishment. To state it simply, you
+      need a wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And oust my Pooh-ba! Madame, you do not know what a treasure that old
+      soldier of mine is. If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but be
+      paying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house and
+      linen; he entertains my palate as deliciously as a Corinne her salon, and&mdash;is
+      never in my way or thoughts. Can you commend me any woman so
+      self-abnegatory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Many women, but no wife, I am glad to say. But you need one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So! Pray explain wherein the lack is apparent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not to me, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you consider a wife an adjunct to a doctor&rsquo;s certificate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great guarantee with women,&rdquo; put in Louis, &ldquo;as a voucher against
+      impatience with their own foibles. They think only home practice can
+      secure the adequate tolerance. Eh, Aunt Esther?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Louis!&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Levice; &ldquo;what has that to do with
+      skill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Skill is one thing; the manner of man is another&mdash;with women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is worth considering&mdash;or adding to the curriculum,&rdquo; observed
+      Kemp, turning his steady, quiet gaze upon Arnold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth noticed that the two men had taken the same position,&mdash;vis&mdash;vis
+      to each other in their respective easy-chairs, their heads thrown back
+      upon the cushions, their arms resting on the chair-arms. Something in
+      Louis&rsquo;s veiled eyes caused her to interpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you play, Louis?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to-night, ma cousine,&rdquo; he replied, glancing at her from lowered lids.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not optional with you to-night, Louis,&rdquo; she insisted playfully,
+      rising; &ldquo;we&mdash;desire you to play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or be punished for treason? Has your Majesty any other behest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I shall even turn the leaves for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The leaves of what,&mdash;memory? I&rsquo;ll play by rote.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He strolled over to the piano and sat down. He struck a few random chords,
+      some soft, some florid, some harsh, some melting; he strung them together
+      and then glided into a dreamy, melodious rhythm, that faded into a
+      bird-like hallelujah,&mdash;swelling now into grandeur, then fainting into
+      sobs, then rushing into an allegro so brilliantly bewildering that when
+      the closing chords came like the pealing tones of an organ, Ruth drew a
+      long sigh with the last lingering vibrations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; asked Levice, looking curiously at his nephew, who,
+      turning on his music-chair, took up his cigar again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; he replied, flecking an ash from his coat lapel, &ldquo;has no name that
+      I know of; some people call it &lsquo;The Soul.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A pained sensation shot through Ruth at his words, for he had plainly been
+      improvising, and he must have felt what he had played.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Ruth, sing this,&rdquo; he continued, turning round and picking up a
+      sheet of music.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; she asked without moving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The bugle;&rsquo; I like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp looked at her expectantly. He said he had not known she sang; but
+      since she did, he was sure her voice was contralto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because your face is contralto.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned from his eyes as if they hurt her, and walked over to Louis&rsquo;s
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It could hardly be called singing. Louis had often said that her voice
+      needed merely to be set to rhythmic time to be music; in pursuance of
+      which idea he would put into her hand some poem that touched his fancy,
+      tell her to read it, and as she read, he would adapt to it an
+      accompaniment according to the meaning and measure of the lines,&mdash;grandly
+      solemn, daintily tripping, or wildly inspiriting. It was more like a chant
+      than a song. To-night he chose Tennyson&rsquo;s Bugle-song. Her voice was
+      subservient to the accompaniment, that shook its faint, sweet bugle-notes
+      at first as in a rosy splendor; it rose and swelled and echoed and
+      reverberated and died away slowly as if loath to depart. Arnold&rsquo;s playing
+      was the poem, Ruth&rsquo;s voice the music the poet might have heard as he
+      wrote, sweet as a violin, deep as the feeling evolved,&mdash;for when she
+      came to the line beginning, &ldquo;oh, love, they die in yon rich sky,&rdquo; she
+      might have stood alone with one, in some high, clear place, so mellow was
+      the thrill of her voice, so rapt the expression of her face. Kemp looked
+      as if he would not tire if the sound should &ldquo;grow forever and forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice was wakeful after she had gone to bed. Her husband also seemed
+      inclined to prolong the night, for he made no move to undress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jules,&rdquo; said she in a low, confidential tone, &ldquo;do you realize that our
+      daughter is twenty-two?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her with a half-smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is not this her birthday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her twenty-second, and she is still unmarried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is time she were. I should like to see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So should I,&rdquo; he acquiesced with marked decision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice straightened herself up in bed and looked at her husband
+      eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;that we have both thought of the same
+      parti?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now Mr. Levice&rsquo;s turn to start into an interested position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of whom,&rdquo; he asked with some restraint, &ldquo;are you speaking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! Come here; I have longed for it for some time, but have never
+      breathed it to a soul,&mdash;Louis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Levice had become quite pale, but as she pronounced the familiar name,
+      the color returned to his cheek, and a surprised look sprang into his
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis? Why do you think of such a thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I think them particularly well suited. Ruth, pardon me, dear, has
+      imbibed some very peculiar and high-flown notions. No merely commonplace
+      young man would make her happy. A man must have some ideas outside of what
+      his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment&rsquo;s interested
+      thought on him. She has repelled some of the most eligible advances for no
+      obvious reasons whatever. Now, she does not care a rap for society, and
+      goes only because I exact it. That is no condition for a young girl to
+      allow herself to sink into; she owes a duty to her future. I am telling
+      you this because, of course, you see nothing peculiar in such a course.
+      But it is time you were roused; you know one look from you is worth a
+      whole sermon from me. As to my thinking of Louis, well, in running over my
+      list of eligibles, I found he fulfilled every condition,&mdash;good-looking,
+      clever, cultivated, well-to-do, and&mdash;of good family. Why should it
+      not be? They like each other, and see enough of each other to learn to
+      love. We, however, must bring it to a head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First provide the hearts, little woman. What can I do, ask Louis or
+      Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jules,&rdquo; she returned with vexation, &ldquo;how childish! Don&rsquo;t you feel well?
+      Your cheeks are rather flushed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are somewhat warm. I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
+      ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her, her
+      brush idle in her hand. Her father stood silently in the doorway,
+      regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart. Jules Levice was a keen
+      student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse of something
+      in the doctor&rsquo;s eyes while Ruth sang. He knew it had been harmless, for
+      her back had been turned, but he wished to reassure himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in bed yet, my child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started up in confusion as he came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what were you thinking, darling?&rdquo; he continued, putting his hand under
+      her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she answered slowly, &ldquo;I was not thinking of anything important; I
+      was thinking of you. We are going to Beacham&rsquo;s next week&mdash;and have
+      you any fine silk shirts?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;I leave all such fancies to your care. So we go
+      next week. I am glad; and you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Well, good-night, love.&rdquo; He took her face between his hands, and
+      drawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweet
+      solemnity,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was August. The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until the
+      gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the quiet
+      autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to continue
+      the management of the household affairs until their return, a month later.
+      Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had to be put in
+      running order for a month, and she realized with a pang at parting with
+      some of her simple, sincere proteges that were this part of her life
+      withdrawn, the rest would pall insufferably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the steps of
+      the veranda with Louis, who was enjoying a post-prandial smoke. Mr. and
+      Mrs. Levice, in the soft golden gloaming of late summer, were strolling
+      arm-in-arm among the flower-beds. Mrs. Levice, without obviously looking
+      toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth was looking well in a plain
+      black gown which she had had no time to change after her late shopping.
+      She did not know that, close and isolated as the young man and woman
+      stood, not only were they silent, but each appeared oblivious of the
+      other&rsquo;s presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreaths of
+      blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under a
+      dream-spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the broken
+      sentence,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jennie&mdash;good-by&mdash;to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This roused her from her revery, and she called to her mother,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I forgot to drop in at Jennie&rsquo;s this afternoon, as I promised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How annoying! When you know how sensitive she is and how angry she gets
+      at any neglect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can run out there now. It is light enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it will be dark in less than an hour. Louis, will you go out to
+      Jennie&rsquo;s with Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? Oh, certainly, if she wishes me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you to come if you yourself wish it. I&rsquo;ll run in and get my hat
+      and jacket while you decide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and a
+      light gray jacket, which she handed to Louis to hold for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New?&rdquo; he asked, pulling it into place in the back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;do you like it for travelling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Under a duster. Otherwise its delicate complexion will be rather freckled
+      when you arrive at Beacham&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her down to
+      the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward the valley.
+      Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them saunter
+      off. When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned around and sang
+      gayly to Mr. Levice, &ldquo;&lsquo;Ca va bien!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the west and
+      sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color and
+      molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green to
+      the northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft and
+      languorous after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or
+      mandolin sounded through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was
+      over all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously turned
+      into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin. Suddenly Arnold felt his
+      companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze from the
+      landscape. Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightened up.
+      The disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a garden fence
+      and bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. Herbert Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there would be
+      more speaking signs of the doctor&rsquo;s propinquity. His forecasting was not
+      at fault.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, was
+      reached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which lounged the
+      medical gentleman in person. He was not heaven-gazing, but seemed plunged
+      in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him. Arnold&rsquo;s quick
+      eye detected the pink flush that rose to the little ear of his cousin. The
+      sound of their footsteps on the stone sidewalk came faintly to Kemp; he
+      raised his eyes slowly and indifferently. The indifference vanished when
+      he recognized them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a hasty movement he threw the cigar from him and ran down the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening,&rdquo; he called, raising his old slouch hat and arresting their
+      evident intention of proceeding on their way. They came up, perforce, and
+      met him at the foot of the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A beautiful evening,&rdquo; he said originally, holding out a cordial hand to
+      Arnold and looking with happy eyes at Ruth. She noticed that there was a
+      marked difference in his appearance from anything she had been used to.
+      His figure looked particularly tall and easy in a loose dark velvet
+      jacket, thrown open from his broad chest; the large sombrero-like hat
+      which had settled on the back of his head left to view his dark hair
+      brushed carelessly backward; an unusual color was on his cheek, and a warm
+      glow in his gray eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; he went on, frankly transferring his attention to Ruth, &ldquo;this
+      weather will continue. We shall have a magnificent autumn; the woods must
+      be beginning to look gorgeous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall know better to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we leave for Beacham&rsquo;s to-morrow, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I did not know;&rdquo; an indefinable shadow over-clouded his face, but he
+      said quickly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is an old hunting-ground of mine. The river teems with speckled
+      treasures. Are you a disciple of old Walton, Mr. Arnold?&rdquo; he added,
+      turning with courtesy to the silent Frenchman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean fishing? No; life is too short to hang my humor of a whole day
+      on the end of a line. I have never been at Beacham&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a fine spot. You will probably go down there this year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My business keeps me tied to the city just at present. A professional man
+      has no such bond; his will is his master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago. A restful night is an
+      unknown indulgence sometimes for weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His gaze moved from Arnold&rsquo;s peachy cheek, and falling upon Ruth,
+      surprised her dark eyes resting upon him in anxious questioning. He
+      smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall have to be moving on,&rdquo; she said, holding out a gloved hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you be gone long?&rdquo; he asked, pressing it cordially.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About a month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be missed&mdash;by the Flynns. Good-by.&rdquo; He raised his hat as he
+      looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the English
+      language is the use of that highly expressive outlet of emotion, &ldquo;Damn.&rdquo;
+       Arnold was an old-timer, but he had not outgrown the charm of his first
+      linguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, he
+      distinctly though coolly said, &ldquo;Damn him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expression
+      of his face led her to believe that her ears had deceived her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few more blocks were passed, and they stopped at a pretentious,
+      many-windowed, Queen Anne house. Ruth ran lightly up the steps, her cousin
+      following her leisurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewis
+      herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn&rsquo;t mean to say that he does us
+      the honor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Arnold had said nothing of the kind; but he offered no disclaimer, and
+      giving her rather a loose hand-shake, walked in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come right into the dining-room,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;I suppose you were
+      surprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting the
+      children to bed. They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed their
+      father, who wished to be very quiet this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the door of
+      which she threw open.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping the
+      drawing-rooms for company only. This is always presupposing that they have
+      no extra sitting-room. After all, a dining-room is not a bad place for the
+      family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane for a round
+      game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; while from an
+      economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms in reception
+      stiffness and ceremonious newness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained the
+      regulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burning
+      in a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have &lsquo;Yahrzeit&rsquo; for my mother,&rdquo; explained Jo Lewis, glancing toward the
+      taper after greeting his visitors. He sat down quietly again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you always burn the light?&rdquo; asked Arnold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always. A light once a year to a mother&rsquo;s memory is not much to ask of a
+      son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long is it since you lost your mother?&rdquo; questioned Ruth, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jo Lewis was a man with whom she had little in common. To her he seemed to
+      have but one idea,&mdash;the amassing of wealth. With her more
+      intellectual cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusion
+      of all higher aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for her footing.
+      Unpolished he certainly was, but the rough, exposed grain of his unhewn
+      nature showed many strata of strength and virility. In this gentle mood a
+      tenderness had come into view that drew her to him with a touch of
+      kinship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thirty years,&rdquo; he answered musingly,&mdash;&ldquo;thirty years. It is a long
+      time, Ruth; but every year when I light the taper it seems as if but
+      yesterday I was a boy crying because my mother had gone away forever.&rdquo; The
+      strong man wiped his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The little light casts a long ray,&rdquo; observed Ruth. &ldquo;Love builds its own
+      lighthouse, and by its gleaming we travel back as at a leap to that which
+      seemed eternally lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jo Lewis sighed. Presently the thoughts that so strongly possessed him
+      found an outlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a woman for you!&rdquo; he cried with glowing eyes. &ldquo;Why, Arnold, you
+      talk of men being great financiers; I wonder what you would have said to
+      the powers my mother showed. We were poor, but poor to a degree of which
+      you can know nothing. Well, with a large family of small children she
+      struggled on alone and managed to keep us not only alive, but clean and
+      respectable. In our village Sara Lewis was a name that every man and woman
+      honored as if it belonged to a princess. Jennie is a good woman, but life
+      is made easy for her. I often think how grand my mother would feel if she
+      were here, and I were able to give her every comfort. God knows how proud
+      and happy I would have been to say, &lsquo;You have struggled enough, Mother;
+      life is going to be a heaven on earth to you now.&rsquo; Well, well, what is the
+      good of thinking of it? To-morrow I shall go down town and deal with men,
+      not memories; it is more profitable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not always,&rdquo; said Arnold, dryly. The two men drifted into a business
+      discussion that neither Mrs. Lewis nor Ruth cared to follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you quite ready?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Lewis, drawing her chair closer to
+      Ruth&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Entirely,&rdquo; she replied; &ldquo;we start on the 8.30 train in the morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be gone a month, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we wish to get back for the holidays. New Year&rsquo;s falls on the 12th
+      of September, and we must give the house its usual holiday cleaning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have begun already. Somehow I never thought you would mind being away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, we always go to the Temple, you know; and I would not miss the
+      Atonement services for a great deal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you say &lsquo;Yom Kippur,&rsquo; as everybody else does?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because &lsquo;Atonement&rsquo; is English and means something to me. Is there
+      anything odd about that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose not. By the way, if there is anything you would like to have
+      done while you are away, let me know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I have seen to everything. You might run in and see Louis now and
+      then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis,&rdquo; Mrs. Lewis called instantly, &ldquo;be sure to come in often for dinner
+      while the folks are gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you; I shall. The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enough
+      to do away with any verbal invitation to another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He arose, seeing Ruth had risen and was kissing her cousins good-by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Lewis beamed with pleasure at his words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, won&rsquo;t you take something before you go?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Ruth, I have
+      the loveliest cakes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Jennie,&rdquo; remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, &ldquo;we have just
+      dined.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let her enjoy herself,&rdquo; observed Louis; &ldquo;she is never so happy as when
+      she is feeding somebody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis&rsquo;s rosy face appeared
+      behind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-looking little
+      cakes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jo, get the Kirsch. You must try one, Ruth; I made them myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they had complimented her on her cakes and Louis had drunk to his
+      next undertaking, suggested by Jo Lewis, the visitors departed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had been walking in almost total silence for a number of blocks, when
+      Ruth turned suddenly to him and said with great earnestness,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis, what is the matter with you? For the last few days you have hardly
+      spoken to me. Have I done anything to annoy you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You? Why, no, not that I remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, please, before we go off, be friendly with me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I am not of a very hilarious temperament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, you manage to talk to others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you cared very much who talked to you lately?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her cheek changed color in the starlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything or nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth looked at him haughtily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If nothing,&rdquo; he continued, observing her askance from lowered lids, &ldquo;what
+      I am about to say will be harmless. If anything, I still hope you will
+      find it pardonable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you about to say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It won&rsquo;t take long. Will you be my wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the stars still shone up in heaven!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her face turned white as a Niphetos rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis,&rdquo; she said finally and speaking with difficulty, &ldquo;why do you ask me
+      this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why does any man ask a woman to be his wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Generally because he loves her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If he had spoken outright, she might have answered him; but the simple
+      monosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her like a
+      wall, before which she stood silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Answer me, Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you mean it, Louis, I am very, very sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I can never be your wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not love you&mdash;like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence for half a block, the man&rsquo;s lips pressed hard together under his
+      mustache, the girl&rsquo;s heart beating suffocatingly. When he spoke, his voice
+      sounded oddly clear in the hushed night air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by &lsquo;like that&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her little hand was clinched tight as it lay on his arm. The perfect
+      silence that followed the words of each made every movement significant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know,&mdash;as a woman loves the man she would marry, not as she
+      loves a brotherly cousin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The difference is not clear to me&mdash;but&mdash;how did you learn the
+      difference?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How dare you?&rdquo; she cried, flashing a pair of dark, wet eyes upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In such a case, &lsquo;I dare do all that may become a man.&rsquo; Besides, even if
+      there is a difference, I still ask you to be my wife. You would not regret
+      it, Ruth, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice was not soft, but there was a certain strained pleading about it
+      that pained her inexpressibly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis,&rdquo; she said, with slow distinctness, her hand moving down until it
+      touched his, &ldquo;I never thought of this as a possibility. You know how much
+      I have always loved you, dear; but oh, Louis, will it hurt you very much,
+      will you forgive me if I have to say no, I cannot be your wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait. I wish you to consider this well. I am offering you all that I have
+      in the world; it is not despicable. Your family, I know, would be pleased.
+      Besides, it would be well for you&mdash;God knows, not because I am what I
+      am, but for other reasons. Wait. I beg of you not to answer me till you
+      have thought it over. You know me; I am no saint, but a man who would give
+      his life for you. I ask of you nothing but the right to guard yours. Do
+      not answer me now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had turned the corner of their block.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need no time,&rdquo; said Ruth, with a sad sob in her voice; &ldquo;I cannot marry
+      you, Louis. My answer would be the same to-morrow or at the end of all
+      time,&mdash;I can never, never be your wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is then as I feared,&mdash;anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl&rsquo;s bowed head was the only answer to his bitter words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, with a hard laugh, &ldquo;that ends it, then. Don&rsquo;t let it
+      bother you. Your answer has put it entirely from my mind. I should be
+      pleased if you would forget it as readily as I shall. I hardly think we
+      shall meet in the morning. I am going down to the club now. Good-by; enjoy
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out his hand carelessly; Ruth carried it in both hers to her lips.
+      Being at the gate, he lifted his hat with a smile and walked away. Ruth
+      did not smile; neither did Arnold when he had turned from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Beacham&rsquo;s lies in a dimple of the inner coast range, and is reached
+      nowadays through one of the finest pieces of engineering skill in the
+      State. The tortuous route through the mountains, over trestle-bridges that
+      span what seem, from the car-windows, like bottomless chasms, needs must
+      hold some compensation at the end to counterbalance the fears engendered
+      on the way. The higher one goes the more beautiful becomes the scenery
+      among the wild, marvellous redwoods that stand like mammoth guides
+      pointing heavenward; and Beacham&rsquo;s realizes expectation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a quiet little place, with its one hotel and two attached cottages,
+      its old, disused saw-mill, its tiny schoolhouse beyond the fairy-like
+      woods, its one general merchandise store, where cheese and calico, hats
+      and hoes, ham and hominy, are forthcoming upon solicitation. It is by no
+      means a fashionable resort; the Levices had searched for something as
+      unlike the Del Monte and Coronado as milk is unlike champagne. They were
+      looking for a pretty, healthful spot, with good accommodations and few
+      social attractions, and Beacham&rsquo;s offered this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were not disappointed. Ruth&rsquo;s anticipation was fulfilled when she saw
+      the river. Russian River is about as pretty a stream as one can view upon
+      a summer&rsquo;s day. Here at Beacham&rsquo;s it is very narrow and shallow, with low,
+      shelving beaches on either bank; but in the tiny row-boat which she
+      immediately secured, Ruth pushed her way into enchantment. The river winds
+      in and out through exquisite coves entangled in a wilderness of brambles
+      and lace-like ferns that are almost transparent as they bend and dip
+      toward the silvery waters; while, climbing over the rocky cliffs, run
+      bracken and the fragrant yerba-buena, till, on high, they creep as if in
+      awe about the great redwoods and pines of the forest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Morning and night Ruth, in her little boat, wooed the lisping waters.
+      Often of a morning her mother was her companion; later on, her father or
+      little Ethel Tyrrell; in the evening one of the Tyrrell boys, generally
+      Will, was her gallant chevalier. But it was always Ruth who rowed,&mdash;Ruth
+      in her pretty sailor blouses, with her strong round arms and steadily
+      browning hands; Ruth, whose creamy face and neck remained provokingly
+      unreddened, and took on only a little deeper tint, as if a dash of bistre
+      had been softly applied. It was pleasant enough rowing down-stream with
+      Ruth; she always knew when to sing &ldquo;Nancy Lee,&rdquo; and when &ldquo;White Wings&rdquo;
+       sounded prettiest. There were numerous coves too, where she loved to beach
+      her boat,&mdash;here to fill a flask with honey-sweet water from a
+      rollicking little spring that came merrily dashing over the rocks, here to
+      gather some delicate ferns or maiden-hair with which to decorate the
+      table, or the trailing yerba-buena for festooning the boat. But Ethel
+      Tyrrell, aged three, thought they had the &ldquo;dolliest&rdquo; time when she and
+      Ruth, having rowed a space out of sight, jumped out, and taking off their
+      shoes and stockings and making other necessary preliminaries to wading,
+      pattered along over the pebbly bottom, screaming when a sharp stone came
+      against their tender feet, and laughing gleefully when the water rose a
+      little higher than they had bargained for; then, when quite tired, they
+      would retire to the beach or the boat and dry themselves with the soft
+      damask of the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth was happy. There were moments when the remembrance of her last
+      meeting with Louis came like a summer cloud over the ineffable brightness
+      of her sky, and she felt a sharp pang at her heart; still, she thought, it
+      was different with Louis. His feeling for her could not be so strong as to
+      make him suffer poignantly over her refusal. She was almost convinced that
+      he had asked her more from a whim of good-fellowship, a sudden desire,
+      perhaps a preference for her close companionship when he did marry, than
+      from any deeper emotion. In consequence of these reflections her musings
+      were not so sad as they might otherwise have been.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her parents laughed to see how she revelled in the freedom of the
+      old-fashioned little spot, which, though on the river, was decidedly &ldquo;out
+      of the swim.&rdquo; It was late in the season, and there were few guests at the
+      hotel. The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other being used by a
+      pair of belated turtle-doves,&mdash;the wife a blushing dot of a woman,
+      the husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walks like a
+      devoted weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptive cough, a
+      natty little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and the
+      golden-haired Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell could not
+      enjoy his hard-earned rest without one and all. They were such a refined,
+      happy, sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, that the Levices
+      were attracted to them at once. To be with Mrs. Tyrrell one whole day,
+      Mrs. Levice said was a liberal education,&mdash;so bright, so
+      uncomplaining, so ambitious for her children was she, and such a help and
+      inspiration to her hard-worked husband. Mr. Levice tramped about the woods
+      with Tyrrell and brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moral bravery of a
+      man who struggled on with a happy face and small hope for any earthly
+      rest. But the children!&mdash;Floy with her dreamy face and busy
+      sketch-book, Will with his halo of golden hair, his manly figure and
+      broad, open ambitions, Boss with his busy step and fishing-tackle, and
+      baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran after Ruth the first time she saw her
+      and begged her to come and play with her; ever since, she formed a part of
+      the drapery of Ruth&rsquo;s skirt or a rather cumbersome necklace about her
+      neck. Every girl who has been debarred the blessing of babies in the house
+      loves them promiscuously and passionately. Ruth was no exception; it
+      amused the ladies to watch her cuddle the child and wonder aloud at all
+      her baby-talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Will was her next favorite satellite. A young girl with a winsome,
+      sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of a
+      fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
+      saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems so near,
+      are just the time for such talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamy gown
+      and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hat in his
+      hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he loved to do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?&rdquo; asked the boy
+      suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, law is one&mdash;&rdquo; she began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the way Papa begins,&rdquo; he interrupted impatiently; &ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll tell
+      you what I think is the greatest. Guess, now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ministry?&rdquo; she ventured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, of course; but I&rsquo;m not good enough for that,&mdash;that takes
+      exceptions. Guess again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery,&mdash;that is it. You would
+      be a brave soldier, Willikins, my man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; he replied, flinging back his head; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to take
+      lives; I want to save them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean a physician, Will?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s it&mdash;but not exactly&mdash;I mean a surgeon. Don&rsquo;t you think
+      that takes bravery? And it&rsquo;s a long sight better than being a soldier; he
+      draws blood to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, you are right,&rdquo; she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
+      beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to descent
+      the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came suddenly upon
+      them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth gaping wide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Ben!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man&rsquo;s mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Begging your pardon, Miss,&mdash;I mean Her pardon,&mdash;the Lord
+      forgive me, I took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the
+      shining hair. Now, don&rsquo;t be telling of me, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, we won&rsquo;t; we&rsquo;ll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves. Have you
+      the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It was still
+      light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; she announced in a matter-of-course way, &ldquo;is from Miss Dorothy
+      Gwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea next
+      Saturday. That, or the hay-ride, Will? And this&mdash;this&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a simple envelope addressed to
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                Miss RUTH LEVICE&mdash;
+                   Beacham&rsquo;s&mdash;
+                 ... County&mdash;
+                         Cal.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      It was the sight of the dashes that caused the hiatus in her sentence, and
+      made her heart give one great rushing bound. The enclosure was to the
+      point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 18, 188&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MISS RUTH LEVICE:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MY DEAR FRIEND,&mdash;That you may not denounce me as too presumptuous, I
+      shall at once explain that I am writing this at Bob&rsquo;s urgent desire. He
+      has at length got the position at the florist&rsquo;s, and tells me to tell you
+      that he is now happy. I dropped in there last night; and when he gave me
+      this message, I told him that I feared you would take it as an
+      advertisement. He merely smiled, picked up a Marechal Niel that lay on the
+      counter, and said, &ldquo;Drop this in. It&rsquo;s my mark; she&rsquo;ll understand.&rdquo; So
+      here are Bob&rsquo;s rose and my apology.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      HERBERT KEMP.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was pale when she turned round to the courteously waiting boy. It was
+      a very cold note, and she put it in her pocket to keep it warm. The rose
+      she showed to Will, and told him the story of the sender.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell you,&rdquo; he cried, when she had finished, &ldquo;a doctor has the
+      greatest opportunity in the world to be great&mdash;and a surgeon comes
+      near it? I say, Miss Ruth, your Dr. Kemp must be a brick. Isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Boys would call him so,&rdquo; she answered, shivering slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was so like him, she thought, to fulfil Bob&rsquo;s request in his hearty,
+      friendly way; she supposed he wanted her to understand that he wrote to
+      her only as Bob&rsquo;s amanuensis,&mdash;it was plain enough. And yet, and yet,
+      she thought passionately, it would have been no more than common etiquette
+      to send a friendly word from himself to her mother. Still the note was not
+      thrown away. Girls are so irrational; if they cannot have the hand-shake,
+      they will content themselves with a sight of the glove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Ruth in the warm, throbbing, summer days was happy. She was not always
+      active; there were long afternoons when mere existence was intensely
+      beautiful. To lie at full length upon the soft turf in the depths of the
+      small enchanted woods, and hear and feel the countless spells of Nature,
+      was unspeakable rapture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Floy,&rdquo; she cried one afternoon, as she lay with her face turned up to
+      the great green boughs that seemed pencilled against the azure sky, &ldquo;if
+      one could paint what one feels! Look at these silent, living trees that
+      stand in all their grandeur under some mighty spell; see how the wonderful
+      heaven steals through the leaves and throws its blue softness upon the
+      twilight gloom; here at our feet nestle the soft, green ferns, and over
+      all is the indescribable fragrance of the redwoods. Turn there, to your
+      right, little artist, high up on that mountain; can you see through the
+      shimmering haze a great team moving as if through the air? It is like the
+      vision of the Bethshemites in Dore&rsquo;s mystic work, when in the valley they
+      lifted up their eyes and beheld the ark returning. Oh, Floy, it is not
+      Nature; it is God. And who can paint God?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one. If one could paint Him, He would no longer be great,&rdquo; answered
+      the girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth&rsquo;s enraptured countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairy
+      spot. It was very warm and still. Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleep
+      in the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to the
+      Tyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices&rsquo; veranda. All Nature
+      was drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered on as
+      was her wont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me and you&rsquo;s yunnin&rsquo; away,&rdquo; she chatted; &ldquo;we&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to a fowest, and by
+      and by two &lsquo;ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves. My! Won&rsquo;t my mamma
+      be sorry? No darlin&rsquo; &lsquo;ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more. Poor Mamma!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Ethel think Mamma likes to spank her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; Mamma does des what she likes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is only when Ethel is naughty that Mamma spanks her. Here,
+      sweetheart, let me tie your sunbonnet tighter. Now Ruth is going to lie
+      here and read, and you can play hide-and-seek all about these trees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I go wound and sit on dat log by a bwook?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;s afwaid. I&rsquo;s dweffully afwaid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you can turn round and talk to me all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But nobody&rsquo;ll be sitting by me at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am here just where you can see me; besides, God will be right next to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will He? Ven all yight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth took off her hat and prepared to enjoy herself. As her head touched
+      the green earth, she saw the little maiden seat herself on the log, and
+      turning her face sideways, say in her pleasant, piping voice,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How-de-do, Dod?&rdquo; And having made her acknowledgments, all her fears
+      vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth laughed softly to herself, and straightway began to read. The
+      afternoon burned itself away. Ethel played and sang and danced about her,
+      quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herself into
+      Ruth&rsquo;s arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sing by-low now,&rdquo; she demanded sleepily; &ldquo;pay it&rsquo;s night, and you and
+      me&rsquo;s in a yockin&rsquo;-chair goin&rsquo; to by-low land.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head to her
+      bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, golden locks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I sing, darling?&rdquo; she mused: she was unused to singing babies
+      to sleep. Suddenly a little kindergarten melody she had heard came to her,
+      and she sang softly in her rich, tender contralto the swinging
+      cradle-song:&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                &ldquo;In a cradle, on the treetop,
+                        Sleeps a tiny bird;
+                Sweeter sound than mother&rsquo;s chirping
+                        Never yet was heard.
+                See, the green leaves spread like curtains
+                        Round the tiny bed,
+                While the mother&rsquo;s wings, outstretching,
+                        Shield&mdash;the&mdash;tiny&mdash;head?&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      As her voice died slowly into silence, she found Ethel looking over her
+      shoulder and nodding her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I won&rsquo;t tell,&rdquo; she said loudly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell what?&rdquo; asked Ruth, amused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! He put his finger on his mouf&mdash;sh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&rdquo; asked Ruth, turning her head hurriedly. Not being able to see
+      through the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child.
+      Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp,&mdash;Dr. Kemp in
+      loose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of his head
+      was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned,&mdash;a wave of
+      color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth,&mdash;a woman&rsquo;s
+      face dare not speak sometimes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I startle you?&rdquo; he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the
+      golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till
+      she stood at her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I interrupted you,&rdquo; he continued; &ldquo;will you shake hands with me,
+      nevertheless?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and
+      then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that
+      moment she had time to compose herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you often come up this way?&rdquo; she questioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm
+      against the tree, answered,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and
+      generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my
+      select spots. I knew you would ferret it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is
+      growing old. Come, Ethel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him.
+      Why should she hurry off at his coming?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry my presence disturbs you,&rdquo; he said quietly; &ldquo;But I can easily
+      go away again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was I so rude?&rdquo; she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. &ldquo;I did not
+      mean it so; but Ethel&rsquo;s mother will want her now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ethel wants to be carried,&rdquo; begged the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right; Ruth will carry you,&rdquo; and she stooped to raise her; but as she
+      did so, Kemp&rsquo;s strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ethel will ride home on my shoulder,&rdquo; he said in the gay, winning voice
+      he knew how so well to use with children. The baby&rsquo;s blue eyes smiled in
+      response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There is
+      nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little child
+      reposes in a strong man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching. For
+      a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire. When he
+      did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude, took possession
+      of him. He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth&rsquo;s birthnight by a vague
+      something in Kemp&rsquo;s eyes. The feeling, however, had vanished gradually in
+      the knowledge that the doctor always had a peculiarly intent gaze, and,
+      moreover, no one could have helped appreciating her loveliness that night.
+      This, of itself, will bring a softness into a man&rsquo;s manner; and without
+      doubt his fears had been groundless,&mdash;fears that he had not dared to
+      put into words. For old man as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s strong
+      personality was such as would prove dangerously seductive to any woman
+      whom he cared to honor with his favor; but with a &ldquo;Get thee behind me,
+      Satan&rdquo; desire, he had put the question from him. He could have taken his
+      oath on Ruth&rsquo;s heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion,
+      his misgivings returned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was
+      at his ease as they came up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a surprise, Doctor,&rdquo; he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate and
+      extending his hand. &ldquo;Who would have thought of meeting you here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a sort of surprise-party,&rdquo; he answered, swinging Ethel to the ground
+      and watching her scamper off to the hotel; &ldquo;and what is more,&rdquo; he
+      continued, turning to him, &ldquo;I have not brought a hamper, which makes one
+      of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You calculate without your host,&rdquo; responded Levice; &ldquo;this is a veritable
+      land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wife rhapsodize.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is she?&rdquo; he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of Ruth&rsquo;s
+      vanishing figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Feeling quite well,&rdquo; replied Levice; &ldquo;she is all impatience now for a
+      delirious winter season.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so,&rdquo; laughed the doctor; &ldquo;but if you take my advice, you will
+      draw the bit slightly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice was delighted to see him; she said it was like the sight of a
+      cable-car in a desert. He protested at such a stupendous comparison, and
+      insisted that she make clear that the dummy was not included. The short
+      afternoon glided into evening, and Dr. Kemp went over to the hotel and
+      dined at the Levices&rsquo; table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, in a white wool gown, sat opposite him. It was the first time he had
+      dined with them; and he enjoyed a singular feeling over the situation. He
+      noticed that although Mrs. Levice kept up an almost incessant flow of
+      talk, she ate a hearty meal, and that Ruth, who was unusually quiet,
+      tasted scarcely anything. Her father also observed it, and resolved upon a
+      course of strict surveillance. He was glad to hear that the doctor had to
+      leave on the early morning&rsquo;s train, though, of course, he did not say so.
+      As they strolled about afterward, he managed to keep his daughter with him
+      and allowed Kemp to appropriate his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They finally drifted to the cottage-steps, and were enjoying the beauty of
+      the night when Will Tyrrell presented himself before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening,&rdquo; he said, taking off his hat as he stood at the foot of the
+      steps. &ldquo;Mr. Levice, Father says he has at last scared up two other
+      gentlemen; and will you please come over and play a rubber of whist?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice felt himself a victim of circumstances. He and Mr. Tyrrell had
+      been looking for a couple of opponents, and had almost given up the
+      search. Now, when he decidedly objected to moving, it would have been
+      heartless not to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t consider me,&rdquo; said the doctor, observing his hesitancy. &ldquo;If it ill
+      relieve you, I assure you I shall not miss you in the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go right ahead, Jules&rdquo; urged his wife; &ldquo;Ruth and I will take care of the
+      doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If she had promised to take care of Ruth, it would have been more to his
+      mind; but since his wife was there, what harm could accrue that his
+      presence would prevent? So with a sincere apology he went over to the
+      hotel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hardly appreciated what an admirable aide he had left behind him in his
+      wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp sat upon the top step, and leaned his back against the railing;
+      although outwardly he kept up a constant low run of conversation with Mrs.
+      Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intently conscious of
+      Ruth&rsquo;s white figure perched on the window-sill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but she
+      was rather startled when she perceived that Kemp was addressing her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to show my prowess to you, Miss Levice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what?&rdquo; she asked, somewhat dazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth, Ruth,&rdquo; laughed her mother, &ldquo;do you mean to say you have not heard a
+      word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered a fine
+      oar at my Alma Mater.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I hazarded the suggestion,&rdquo; added Mrs. Levice, &ldquo;that as it is such a
+      beautiful night, there is nothing to prevent your taking a little row, and
+      then each can judge of the other&rsquo;s claim to superiority?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My claim has never been justly established,&rdquo; said Ruth. &ldquo;I have never
+      allowed any one to usurp my oars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As yet,&rdquo; corrected Kemp. &ldquo;Then will you wrap something about you and come
+      down to the river?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly she will,&rdquo; answered her mother; &ldquo;run in and get some wraps,
+      Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will come too, Mamma?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course; but considering Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s length, a third in your little boat
+      will be the proverbial trumpery. Still, I suppose I can rely on you two
+      crack oarsmen, though you know the slightest tremble in the boat in the
+      fairest weather is likely to create a squall on my part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If Dr. Kemp wished to row, he should row; and since the Jewish Mrs. Grundy
+      was not on hand, anything harmlessly enjoyable was permissible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth went indoors. This was certainly something she had not bargained for.
+      How could her mother be so blind as not to know or feel her desire to
+      evade Dr. Kemp? She felt a positive contempt for herself that his presence
+      should affect her as it did; she dared not look at him lest her heart
+      should flutter to her eyes. Probably the display amused him. What was she
+      to him anyway but a girl with whom he could flirt in his idle moments?
+      Well (with a passionate fling of her arms), she would extinguish her
+      uncontrollable little beater for the nonce; she would meet and answer
+      every one of his long glances in kind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She wound a black lace shawl around her head, and with some wraps for her
+      mother, came out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hadn&rsquo;t you better put something over your shoulders?&rdquo; he asked
+      deferentially as she appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And disgust the night with lack of appreciation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned to a corner of the porch and lifted a pair of oars to her
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he said in surprise, coming toward her, &ldquo;you keep your oars at
+      home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the principle of &lsquo;neither a borrower nor a lender be;&rsquo; we find it
+      saves both time and spleen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held them lightly in place on her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Allow me,&rdquo; he said, placing his hand upon the oars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A spirit of contradiction took possession of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, no,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;why should I? They are not at all heavy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gently lifted her resisting fingers one by one and raised the broad
+      bone of contention to his shoulder. Then without a look he turned and
+      offered his arm to Mrs. Levice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashed before
+      them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty of the
+      bewildering heavens. As they approached the river, the faint susurra came
+      to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing in the
+      distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Others are enjoying themselves also,&rdquo; he remarked as their feet touched
+      the pebbly beach. A faint crescent moon shone over the water. Ruth went
+      straight to the little boat aground on the shore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks like a cockle-shell,&rdquo; he said, as he put one foot in after
+      shoving it off. &ldquo;Will you sit in the stern or the bow, Mrs. Levice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the bow; I dislike to see dangers before we come to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He helped her carefully to her place; she thanked him laughingly for his
+      exceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was waiting for you to move from my place,&rdquo; she said in defiant
+      mischief, standing motionless beside the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your place? Ah, yes; now,&rdquo; he said, holding out his hand to her, &ldquo;will
+      you step in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as the
+      little bark swayed he made a movement to catch hold of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better sit down,&rdquo; he said, motioning to the rower&rsquo;s seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall sit beside you and use the other oar,&rdquo; he answered nonchalantly,
+      smiling down at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the
+      stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice,&rdquo; he said
+      pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not
+      very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored if
+      I wax too discursive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp&rsquo;s knees were not half a foot
+      from Ruth&rsquo;s white gown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you direct me?&rdquo; he said, as he swept around. &ldquo;I have not rowed on
+      this river for two or three years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can keep straight ahead for some distance,&rdquo; she said, leaning back in
+      her seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowed
+      lightly down the river. His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed his
+      strong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, and his
+      dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with grave
+      sweetness. She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from the
+      short range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded her
+      good vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdo the night
+      in brilliancy. For a while Kemp maintained a sort of Roland-for-an-Oliver
+      conversation with her; but with his eyes continually straying to the girl
+      before him, it became rather difficult. Some merry rowers down the river
+      were singing college songs harmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum
+      with them, her voice gradually subsiding into a faint murmur. The balmy,
+      summer-freighted air made her feel drowsy. She listened absently to Ruth&rsquo;s
+      occasional warnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we have clear sailing for a stretch,&rdquo; said Ruth, as they came to a
+      broad curve. &ldquo;Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shot
+      over that snag, Mamma?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mamma!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she straightened herself back in her seat. Kemp, noting the sudden
+      flush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look at
+      Mrs. Levice. Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes were
+      closed, in the manner of more wary chaperones,&mdash;Mrs. Levice slept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Far across the river a woman&rsquo;s silvery voice was singing the sweet old
+      love-song, &ldquo;Juanita;&rdquo; overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low from the
+      floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender night,
+      and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy part of
+      it. Against the black lace about her head her face shone like a cameo, her
+      eyes were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to breathe, so
+      still she sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp sat opposite her&mdash;and Mrs. Levice slept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched the
+      water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks,&mdash;they were
+      unconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
+      tender woman&rsquo;s voice across the water stole to them, singing of love;
+      their eyes met&mdash;and Mrs. Levice slept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again rocking
+      in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man&rsquo;s deep, grave eyes
+      held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his worshipping
+      eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; called a startled voice, &ldquo;row out; I am right under the trees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They both started. Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake. They had drifted
+      into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?&rdquo; she
+      complained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh. &ldquo;Did not
+      you see where we were going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered a little breathlessly; &ldquo;I believe I am growing
+      far-sighted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be time to sight home now,&rdquo; said her mother; &ldquo;I am quite chilly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
+      When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started up
+      the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of the
+      boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait for us, Ruth,&rdquo; called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure stood
+      still till they came up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are so slow,&rdquo; she said with a reckless little laugh; &ldquo;I feel as if I
+      could fly home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you light-headed, Ruth?&rdquo; asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
+      behind them. She could not yet meet his eyes again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us.&rdquo; Mrs. Levice, awake,
+      was an exemplary duenna.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing abroad here but the stars,&rdquo; she answered, flitting
+      before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night,&rdquo; remarked Kemp,
+      softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood inside of it as
+      they drew near.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will not be home till Monday,&rdquo; he said, taking Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s
+      hand and raising his hat; &ldquo;and I am off on the early morning train.
+      Good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she turned in at the gate, he held out his hand to Ruth. His fingers
+      closed softly, tightly over hers; she heard him say almost inaudibly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Till Monday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her shy eyes for one brief second to his glowing ones; and he
+      passed, a tall, dark figure, down the shadowy road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Mr. Levice returned from his game of whist, he quietly opened the
+      door of his daughter&rsquo;s bedroom and looked in. All was well; the wolf had
+      departed, and his lamb slept safe in the fold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in the dark his lamb&rsquo;s eyes were mysteriously bright. Sleep! With this
+      new crown upon her! Humble as the beautiful beggar-maid must have felt
+      when the king raised her, she wondered why she had been thus chosen by one
+      whom she had deemed so immeasurably above her. And this is another phase
+      of woman&rsquo;s love,&mdash;that it exalts the beloved beyond all reasoning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      At six o&rsquo;clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greens
+      were gently warming under the sun&rsquo;s first rays. At seven the early train
+      that Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave. Ruth, with this knowledge at
+      heart, had softly risen and left the cottage. Close behind the depot rose
+      a wooded hill. She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; and what
+      was to prevent her doing so now? It afforded an excellent view of the
+      station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was very little past six, and she began leisurely to ascend the hill.
+      The sweet morning air was in her nostrils, and she pushed the broad hat
+      form her happy eyes. She paused a moment, looking up at the wooded
+      hill-top, which the sun was jewelling in silver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you see something beautiful up there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With an inarticulate cry she wheeled around and faced Dr. Kemp within a
+      hand&rsquo;s breadth of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, &ldquo;I did not mean&mdash;I
+      did not expect&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor did I,&rdquo; he said in a low voice; &ldquo;chance is kinder to us than
+      ourselves&mdash;beloved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned quite white at the low, intense word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You understood me last night&mdash;and I was not&mdash;deceived?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her head drooped lower till the broad brim of her hat hid her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With one quick step he reached her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth, look at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She never had been able to resist his compelling voice; and now with a
+      swift-drawn breath she threw back her head and looked up at him fairly,
+      with all her soul in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you satisfied?&rdquo; she asked tremulously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Santa Filomena,&rdquo; he murmured with his lips against her hair, &ldquo;this is
+      worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared meet
+      his eyes when he finally held her from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I,
+      dear; you can trust me, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; she said, her hand fluttering in his; &ldquo;but isn&rsquo;t&mdash;the train
+      coming?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you so anxious to have me go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hand closed tightly around his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, &ldquo;I have
+      something to ask you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To ask me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; are you surprised, can&rsquo;t you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still
+      further? Will you be my wife, love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
+      tenderness. &ldquo;If you really want me,&rdquo; she replied, with a sobbing laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon?&rdquo; he persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you must. You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not afraid of you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you should be. Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five;
+      did you remember that when you made me king among men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As ancient as that? Then you should be able to answer me. Make it soon,
+      sweetheart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, how you beg&mdash;for a king. Besides, there is Father, you know; he
+      decides everything for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaiting
+      him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last night,
+      and&mdash;Ah, the whistle! What day is this, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Friday, sweet, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am not at all superstitious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
+      Monday will be four days rolled into one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember,&rdquo; he continued hurriedly, &ldquo;you are doubly precious now, darling,
+      and take good care of yourself till our &lsquo;Auf Wiedersehn.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;and&mdash;you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who? There is no doctor here that I know of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I know one&mdash;Herbert.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God bless you for that, dear!&rdquo; he answered gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the
+      out-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kemp where
+      he belonged,&mdash;to his busy practice,&mdash;and leaving his child&rsquo;s
+      peace undisturbed. Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed
+      him to drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite and
+      happy talk? No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shown
+      in her; but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resort to
+      flirtation, and anything deeper was out of the question. He must certainly
+      have a little plain talk with the child this morning, and, well, he could
+      cry &ldquo;Ebenezer!&rdquo; on his departure. With this conclusion, he softly rose,
+      taking care not to disturb his placidly sleeping wife, who never dreamed
+      of waking till nine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth generally waited for him for breakfast, but not seeing her around, he
+      went in and took a solitary meal. Sauntering out afterward toward the
+      hotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting a
+      cigar, he was met at the door of the billiard-room by one of the clerks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp left this for you this morning,&rdquo; said he, holding out a small
+      envelope. A flush rose to the old gentleman&rsquo;s sallow cheek as he took it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I believe I shall come in here for a few minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chair
+      near the window. He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightly
+      nervous manner, and adjusted them hastily. The missive was addressed to
+      him, certainly; and with no little wonder he tore it open and read:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      BEACHAM&rsquo;S Friday morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MR. LEVICE:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MY DEAR SIR,&mdash;Pardon the hurried nature of this communication, but I
+      must leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operation
+      to undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare you
+      more fully, but time presses. Simply, then, I love your daughter. I told
+      her so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest and
+      happiest of men by returning my love. I am well aware what I am asking of
+      you when I ask her of you to be my wife. You know me personally; you know
+      my financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings with mercy
+      in the knowledge of our great love. Till Monday night, then, I leave her
+      and my happiness to your consideration and love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the greatest respect,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yours Sincerely,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      HERBERT KEMP.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clerk standing near him in the doorway turned hurriedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any trouble?&rdquo; he asked, moving toward him and noticing the ashy pallor of
+      his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s hand closed spasmodically over the paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he managed to answer, waving the man away; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t notice me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clerk, seeing his presence was undesirable, took up his position in
+      the doorway again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice sat on. No further sound broke from him; he had clinched his teeth
+      hard. It had come to this, then. She loved him; it was too late. If the
+      man&rsquo;s heart alone were concerned, it would have been an easy matter; but
+      hers, Ruth&rsquo;s. God! If she really loved, her father knew only too well how
+      she would love. Was the man crazy? Had he entirely forgotten the gulf that
+      lay between them? Great drops of perspiration rose to his forehead. Two
+      ideas held him in a desperate struggle,&mdash;his child&rsquo;s happiness; the
+      prejudice of a lifetime. Something conquered finally, and he arose quietly
+      and walked slowly off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through the trees he heard laughter. He walked round and saw her swinging
+      Will Tyrrell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s your father,&rdquo; cried Boss, from the limb of a tree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up, startled. With a newborn shyness she had endeavored to put
+      off this meeting with her father. She gave the swing another push and
+      waited his approach with beating heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The boys will excuse you, Ruth, I think; I wish you to come for a short
+      walk with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At his voice, the gentle seriousness of which penetrated even to the
+      Tyrrell boys&rsquo; understanding, she felt that her secret was known.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid her arm about his neck and gave him his usual morning kiss,
+      reddening slowly under his long searching look as he held her to him. She
+      followed him almost blindly as he turned from the grounds and struck into
+      the lane leading to the woods. Mr. Levice walked along, aimlessly knocking
+      off with his stick the dandelions and camomile in the hedges. It was with
+      a wrench he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My child,&rdquo; he said, and now the stick acted as a support, &ldquo;I was just
+      handed a note from Dr. Kemp. He has asked me for your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the pause that followed Ruth&rsquo;s lovely face was hidden in her hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He also told me that he loves you,&rdquo; he continued slowly, &ldquo;and that you
+      return his love. Will you turn your face to me, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did so with dignity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You love this man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do.&rdquo; As reverently as if at the altar, she faced and answered her
+      father. All her love was in the eyes she raised to his. Beneath their
+      happy glow Levice&rsquo;s sank and his steady lips grew pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were away from mankind in the shelter of the woods, the birds gayly
+      carolling their matins above them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you desire to become his wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Neck, face, and ears were suffused with color as she faltered unsteadily,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Father, he loves me.&rdquo; Then at the wonder of it, she exclaimed,
+      throwing her arms about his neck impulsively and hiding her face in his
+      shoulder, &ldquo;I am so happy, so happy! It seems almost too beautiful to be
+      true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man&rsquo;s trembling hand smoothed the soft little tendrils of hair
+      that had escaped from their pins. He stifled a groan as he was thus
+      disarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what,&rdquo; she asked, her sweet eyes holding his as she stepped back,
+      &ldquo;what do you think of Herbert Kemp, M. D.? Will you be proud of your
+      son-in-law, Father darling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice&rsquo;s hand fell suddenly on her shoulder. He schooled himself to smile
+      quietly upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp is a great friend of mine. He is a gentleman whom all the world
+      honors, not only for his professional worth, but for his manly qualities.
+      I am not surprised that you love him, nor yet that he loves you&mdash;except
+      for one thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that?&rdquo; she asked, smiling confidently at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Child, you are a Jewess; Dr. Kemp is a Christian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And still his daughter smiled trustingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What difference can that make, since we love each other?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you believe me, Ruth, when I say that all I desire is your
+      happiness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I tell you I can never bring myself to approve of a marriage between
+      you and a Christian. There can be no true happiness in such a union.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? Inasmuch as all my life you have taught me to look upon my
+      Christian friends as upon my Jewish, and since you admit him
+      irreproachable from every standpoint, why can he not be my husband?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever thought of what such a marriage entails?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do so now: think of every sacrifice, social and religious, it
+      enforces; think of the great difference between the Jewish race and the
+      Christians; and if, after you have measured with the deadliest earnestness
+      every duty that married life brings, you can still believe that you will
+      be happy, then marry him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With your blessing?&rdquo; Her lovely, pleading eyes still held his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always with my blessing, child. One thing more: did Dr. Kemp mention
+      anything of this to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he must have forgotten it as I did, or rather, if I ever thought of
+      it, it was a mere passing shadow. I put it aside with the thought that
+      though you and I had never discussed such a circumstance, judging by all
+      your other actions in our relations with Christians, you would be above
+      considering such a thing a serious obstacle to two people&rsquo;s happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down to detail,
+      and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas. However, I shall remind
+      Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then&mdash;you will not object
+      to this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; but I know&mdash;I know&mdash;&rdquo; What did she know except of the
+      greatness of his love that would annihilate all her father&rsquo;s forebodings?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; her father answered the half-spoken thought; &ldquo;I know too. But
+      ponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night,
+      when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase of
+      this terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Love is so selfish. Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she had never
+      failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and the sad eyes
+      of her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother will soon be awake,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;had you not better go back?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something that she had expected was wanting in this meeting; she looked at
+      him reproachfully, her mouth visibly trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Father, you are so cold and hard, and you have not even&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till Monday night, Ruth. Then I will do anything you ask me. Now go
+      back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet. I
+      shall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something to
+      think of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon Dr. Kemp received the following brief note:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      BEACHAM&rsquo;S, August 25, 188&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DR. KEMP:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR SIR,&mdash;Have you forgotten that my daughter is a Jewess; that you
+      are a Christian? Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider this
+      question from every possible point of view. If then both you and my
+      daughter can satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedly
+      have, I shall raise no obstacle to your desires.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sincerely your friend,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JULES LEVICE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the mean time Ruth was thinking it all out. Love was blinding her,
+      dazzling her; and the giants that rose before her were dwarfed into
+      pygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only in smiling
+      at their feebleness. Love was an Armada, and bore down upon the little
+      armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as little Rose
+      Delano stood in Ruth&rsquo;s room looking up into her friend&rsquo;s face, the dreamy,
+      starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples about the corners
+      of her mouth, the whole air of a mysterious something, baffled and
+      bewildered her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon Ruth&rsquo;s writing-table rested a basket of delicate Marechal Niel buds,
+      almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was not unknown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has agreed well with you, Miss Levice,&rdquo; said Rose, in her gentle,
+      patient voice, that seemed so out of keeping with her young face. &ldquo;You
+      look as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have,&rdquo; laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; &ldquo;it has
+      made a &lsquo;nut-brown mayde&rsquo; of me, I think, Rosebud. But tell me the city
+      news. Everything in running order? Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything is as your kind help has willed it. I have a pleasant little
+      room with a middle-aged couple on Post Street. Altogether I earn ten
+      dollars over my actual monthly expenses. Oh, Miss Levice, when shall I be
+      able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that is
+      why I am so happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes. Yet the
+      first time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have a
+      history.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sad?&rdquo; The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice
+      sounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am no sorceress,&rdquo; she answered evasively but lightly; &ldquo;look in the
+      glass and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remind me of Floy Tyrrell. Pooh! Let us talk of something else. Then
+      it can&rsquo;t be Wednesdays?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It can be any day. The Page children can have Friday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know how Mr. Page is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you not hear of the great operations he&mdash;Dr. Kemp&mdash;performed
+      Friday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo; She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of
+      blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had had
+      one lesson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss Dora
+      a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little ones in
+      there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One of the
+      doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and
+      dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was
+      passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms.
+      He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to
+      pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my hand so very friendly. And
+      now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss Levice, he has no parallel but
+      himself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It was
+      only very sweet and true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew just what he must be when I saw him,&rdquo; the girl babbled on; &ldquo;that
+      was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his
+      strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me if
+      I tire you; you see he sent you to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not tire me, Rose,&rdquo; she said gravely. And the same expression
+      rested upon her face till evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy,
+      low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was
+      partially the result of her father&rsquo;s expressive countenance and voice. If
+      he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in
+      the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had spoken a
+      few disturbing words to her:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain
+      project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early, and
+      there is nothing to prevent your receiving him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He was
+      regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?&rdquo; she
+      questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm
+      reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I
+      told you to consider, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in childhood,
+      when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn this same
+      sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the pain he
+      himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand never
+      could have done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown, that
+      fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color was
+      upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted
+      drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some
+      old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of
+      all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose
+      slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her swiftly
+      to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. &ldquo;Are you
+      tired of me already, love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not of you; of waiting,&rdquo; she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hardly expected this,&rdquo; he said after a pause; &ldquo;has your father flown
+      bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while, was
+      it not?&rdquo; she asked simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your
+      exit on his entrance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she laughed quietly; &ldquo;I am going to play the role of the audience
+      to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted him
+      settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it quickly
+      to his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is well that you remain,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;because we agree at any
+      rate on the main point,&mdash;that we love each other. Always that,
+      darling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always that&mdash;love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilled him
+      oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth moved like a
+      bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step had given
+      her the momentary courage thus to address him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed a
+      striking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;
+      Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silvery
+      hair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, served as
+      a foil to the other&rsquo;s bright, handsome figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is more
+      thoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is a
+      freemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is a sign
+      of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise. Levice&rsquo;s
+      hand closed tightly about the doctor&rsquo;s large one; there was a great
+      feeling of mutual respect between these two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you and your wife?&rdquo; asked the doctor, seating himself in a low,
+      silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed. She wished to
+      be remembered to you.&rdquo; As he spoke, he half turned his head to where Ruth
+      sat in a corner, a little removed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you sit back there, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up the
+      curious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of an
+      isosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles of the
+      base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking each point
+      an alien from the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seated
+      herself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from the sconce
+      behind fell upon her father&rsquo;s head, each silvery hair seemed to speak of
+      quiet old age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bush the
+      thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, in person, what
+      I asked you in writing last Friday,&mdash;will you give me your daughter
+      to be my wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will answer you as I did in writing. Have you considered that you are a
+      Christian; that she is a Jewess?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you, my child?&rdquo; he addressed her in the old sweet way that she had
+      missed in the afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have also done so to the best of my ability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have found it raised no barrier to your desire to become Dr.
+      Kemp&rsquo;s wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men drew a deep breath at the sound of the little decisive word,
+      but with a difference. Kemp&rsquo;s face shone exultantly. Levice pressed his
+      lips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veined
+      hands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quite
+      peaceful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by their
+      children upon their choice of husband or wife. In France the parents are
+      consulted before the daughter; it is not a bad plan. It often saves some
+      unnecessary pangs&mdash;for the daughter. I am sorry in this case that we
+      are not living in France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you object?&rdquo; Kemp almost hurled the words at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I crave your patience,&rdquo; answered the old man, slowly; &ldquo;I have grown
+      accustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in this
+      instance. But as you have put the question, I may answer you now. I do
+      most solemnly and seriously object.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly. The doctor
+      also changed color.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My child,&rdquo; Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, &ldquo;by allowing
+      you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with my apparent
+      sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done you a great
+      wrong; I admit it with anguish. I ask your forgiveness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Father!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s clinched hand came down with force upon his knee. He was white
+      to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strong decisiveness
+      rang unmistakably in every word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice, I trust I am not speaking disrespectfully,&rdquo; he began, his
+      manly voice plainly agitated, &ldquo;but I must say that it was a great
+      oversight on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as she is,
+      into Christian society,&mdash;put her right in the way of loving or being
+      loved by any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairs
+      could lead to nothing. It was not only wrong, but, holding such views, it
+      was cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I acknowledge my culpability; my only excuse lies in the fact that such
+      an event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination. If it
+      had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscience and
+      bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to think seriously
+      upon such an issue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, I do not understand your exception; you are not orthodox.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but I am intensely Jewish,&rdquo; answered the old man, proudly regarding
+      his antagonist. &ldquo;I tell you I object to this marriage; that is not saying
+      I oppose it. There are certain things connected with it of which neither
+      you nor my daughter have probably thought. To me they are all-powerful
+      obstacles to your happiness. Being an old man and more experienced, will
+      you permit me to suggest these points? My friend, I am seeking nothing but
+      my child&rsquo;s happiness; if, by opening the eyes of both of you to what
+      menaces her future welfare, I can avert what promises but a sometime
+      misery, I must do it, late though it may be. If, when I have stated my
+      view, you can convince me that I am wrong, I shall be persuaded and admit
+      it. Will you accept my plan?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp bowed his head. The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyes
+      deepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice.
+      Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote and
+      shadowy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you say,&rdquo; began Levice, &ldquo;we are not orthodox; but before we become
+      orthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested with
+      certain hereditary traits that are unconvertible. Every Jew bears in his
+      blood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel. The
+      farther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance. In
+      most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we have been
+      set upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginning to
+      smile,&mdash;that is, some of us. Those whose fathers were helped on are
+      nearer the man as he should be than those whose fathers are still
+      grovelling. My child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture and
+      refinement can give. She is not an exception; there are thousands like her
+      among our Jewish girls. Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew from his
+      coarser surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and he will
+      stand forth the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mix forever
+      with pitch and remain undefiled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No man could,&rdquo; observed Kemp, as Levice paused. &ldquo;But what are these
+      things to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing; but to Ruth, much. That is part of the bar-sinister between you.
+      Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in my family;
+      but there are many families, people we visit and love, who, though
+      possessing all the substrata of goodness, have never been moved to cast
+      off the surface thorns that would prick your good taste as sharply as any
+      physical pain. This, of course, is not because they are Jews, but because
+      they lack refining influences in their surroundings. We look for and
+      excuse these signs; many Christians take them as the inevitable marks of
+      the race, and without looking further, conclude that a cultured Jew is an
+      impossibility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you who number
+      so many of them among your friends should not make such sweeping
+      assertions. The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom my
+      child would be, without doubt, ostracized. This only by your people; by
+      ours it would be worse,&mdash;for she will have raised a terrible barrier
+      by renouncing her religion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall never renounce my religion, Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would be
+      cut adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where they
+      rightfully belong to where they are not wanted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; interrupted Kemp, &ldquo;allow me to show you wherein such a state of
+      affairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence. The friends we
+      care for and who care for us will not drop off if we remain unchanged.
+      Because I love your daughter and she loves me, and because we both desire
+      our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein have we erred?
+      We shall still remain the same man and woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unhappily the world would not think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let them hold to their bigoted opinion; it is valueless, and having
+      each other, we can dispense with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would be
+      impossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up of more
+      than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched. The knowledge
+      that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But such knowledge,&rdquo; interrupted Ruth&rsquo;s sweet voice, &ldquo;would be robbed of
+      all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly to
+      his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he responded; &ldquo;count the world as nothing. You have just
+      said, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion. How could that
+      be when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any man who
+      would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into his life. As
+      for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one. My God is fixed and
+      unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinity would be to
+      deny his omnipotence. As to forms, you, Father, have bred in me a contempt
+      for all but a few. Saturday will always be my Sabbath, no matter what
+      convention would make me do. We have decided that writing or sewing or
+      pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on that day than on
+      another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander is more so. But on
+      that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is the force of custom.
+      Any day would do as well if we were used to it,&mdash;for who can tell
+      which was the first and which the seventh counting from creation? On our
+      New Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of time had passed; but I
+      live only according to one record of time, and my New Year falls always on
+      the 1st of January. Atonement is a sacred day to me; I could not desecrate
+      it. Our services are magnificently beautiful, and I should feel like a
+      culprit if debarred from their holiness. As to fasting, you and I have
+      agreed that any physical punishment that keeps our thoughts one moment
+      from God, and puts them on the feast that is to come, is mere sham and
+      pretence. After these, Father, wherein does our religion show itself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; he replied with some bitterness, &ldquo;we hold few Jewish rites.
+      Well, and so you think you can keep these up? And you, Dr. Kemp?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp had been listening attentively while Ruth spoke. His eyes kindled
+      brightly as he answered,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should she not? If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, body
+      and soul, as she is to me, what is to prevent her from so continuing? And
+      if my wife would permit me to go with her upon her holidays to your
+      beautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I. Loving her,
+      what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich their
+      lives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them that made
+      every shot of his harmless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can understand,&rdquo; he ventured, &ldquo;that no gentleman with self-respect
+      would, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person&rsquo;s religion. You,
+      Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that has withstood
+      everything and has never yet been sneered at, however its followers have
+      been persecuted. Many of its minor forms are slowly dying out and will
+      soon be remembered only historically; this history belongs to every one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. Let us, however, stick to the point in question. You are a man
+      who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off most of its
+      unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my&mdash;for your
+      daughter. This distinguishes you. If I were to say the characteristic has
+      never been unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needs no
+      excuse. Now, sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; more
+      formally, a Unitarian. Our faiths are not widely divergent. We are both
+      liberal; otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment. As to
+      forms, for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity,&mdash;a
+      sort of moral backbone without which they might fall. Sunday is to me a
+      day of rest if my patients do not need me. I enjoy hearing a good sermon
+      by any noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that, but
+      for the pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentle stirring
+      up. There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that is Christmas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking for sympathy
+      for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own home the wife
+      whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watches your feelings
+      with no answering sympathy? Will this not breed dissension, if not in
+      words, at least in spirit? Will you not feel the want and resent it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp was silent. The question was a telling one and required thought;
+      therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him. Her quiet voice
+      carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of grave grace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She addressed her father; each had refrained from appealing to the other.
+      The situation in the light of their new, great love was strained and
+      unnatural.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should endeavor that he should feel no lack,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;for so far as
+      Christmas is concerned, I am a Christian also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not understand.&rdquo; Her father&rsquo;s lips were dry, his voice husky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ever since I have been able to judge,&rdquo; explained the girl, quietly,
+      &ldquo;Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that ever
+      lived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her to
+      continue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great and good.
+      Later, when I had read his &lsquo;Sermon on the Mount,&rsquo; I grew to see that what
+      he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; it made me no
+      less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness. To me he
+      became the embodiment of Love in the highest,&mdash;Love perfect, but warm
+      and human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinity to augment its
+      power over us. He was God&rsquo;s attestation, God&rsquo;s symbol of what Man might
+      be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So I may call myself a
+      christian, though I spell it with a small letter. It is right that such a
+      man&rsquo;s birthday should be remembered with love; it shows what a sweet power
+      his name is, when, as that time approaches, everybody seems to love
+      everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrong for me to participate in
+      my husband&rsquo;s actions on that day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She received no answer. She looked only at her father with loving
+      earnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quite lost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would this be wrong, Father?&rdquo; she urged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load. His dark, sallow
+      face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion,&rdquo; he responded;
+      &ldquo;I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leap thus far. It
+      were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No; you would be but
+      giving your real feelings expression. But such an expression would grieve&mdash;Pardon;
+      I am to consider your happiness.&rdquo; He seemed to swallow something, and
+      hastily continued: &ldquo;While we are still on this subject, are you aware, my
+      child, that you could not be married by a Jewish rabbi?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started perceptibly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should love to be married by Doctor C&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo; As she pronounced
+      the grand old rabbi&rsquo;s name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. But you would have to take a justice as a substitute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A Unitarian minister would be breaking no law in uniting us, and I think
+      would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had no objection.&rdquo;
+       The doctor looked at him questioningly. Levice answered by turning to
+      Ruth. She passed her hand over her forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;that after a ceremony had been performed, Dr.
+      C&mdash;&mdash; would bless us? As a friend, would he have to refuse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He would be openly sanctioning a marriage which according to the
+      rabbinical law is no marriage at all. Do you think he would do this,
+      notwithstanding his friendship for you?&rdquo; returned her father. They both
+      looked at him intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, well,&rdquo; she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming to
+      her pale lips, &ldquo;it is but a sentiment, and I could forego it, I suppose.
+      One must give up little things sometimes for great.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and this would be but the first. My children, there is something
+      radically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much before
+      marriage. &lsquo;Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;&rsquo; and why should we
+      add trouble to days already burdened before they come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We should find all this no trouble,&rdquo; said Kemp; &ldquo;and what is to trouble
+      us after? We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God&rsquo;s
+      name, do you ask for more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people. Marriage is a step
+      not entered into lightly. Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heard of
+      with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages. We know
+      beforehand what we have to expect from every quarter. No question I have
+      put would be necessary with a Jew. His ways are ours, and, with few
+      exceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him. How am I
+      sure of this with you? In a moment of anger this difference of faith may
+      be flung in each other&rsquo;s teeth, and what then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean you cannot trust me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The quiet, forceful words were accompanied by no sign of emotion. His deep
+      eyes rested as respectfully as ever upon the old gentleman&rsquo;s face. But the
+      attack was a hard one upon Levice. A vein on his temple sprang into blue
+      prominence as he quickly considered his answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in any
+      undertaking; but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect from you
+      as I should have from any Jew who would ask for my daughter&rsquo;s hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand that,&rdquo; admitted the other; &ldquo;but a few minutes ago you
+      imputed a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to any
+      gentleman. You may have heard of such happenings among some, but an event
+      of that kind would be as removed from us as the meeting of the poles.
+      Everything depends on the parties concerned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Besides, Father,&rdquo; added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, &ldquo;when
+      one loves greatly, one is great through love. Can true married love ever
+      be divided and sink to this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little white and gold clock ticked on; it was the only sound. Levice&rsquo;s
+      forehead rested upon his hand over which his silvery hair hung. Kemp&rsquo;s
+      strong face was as calm as a block of granite; Ruth&rsquo;s was pale with
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the old man threw back his head. They both started at the
+      revelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in a
+      strained smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I,&rdquo; he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance,&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      have one last suggestion to make. You may have children. What will be
+      their religion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp&rsquo;s face. As for the
+      girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon her father&rsquo;s
+      changed face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor gave one quick glance at Ruth and answered,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If God should so bless us, I think the simple religion of love enough for
+      childhood. Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let them choose for
+      themselves, as all should be allowed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you, my Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should be guided by my husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back,
+      dully reiterating, &ldquo;Time flies, time flies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have quite finished,&rdquo; said Levice, rising.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp did likewise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After all,&rdquo; he said deferentially, &ldquo;you have not answered my question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;think&mdash;I&mdash;have,&rdquo; replied the old man, slowly. &ldquo;But to
+      what question do you refer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The simple one,&mdash;will you give me your daughter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; I will not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp drew himself up, bowed low, and stood waiting some further word, his
+      face ashy white. Levice&rsquo;s lips trembled nervously, and then he spoke in a
+      gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrast to his
+      former violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old, holds
+      with me in this. I do not know how wildly she would take such a
+      proposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shall not
+      oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place my beliefs as
+      an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it is she who will have
+      to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have been friends; outside of
+      this one great difference there is no man to whom I would more gladly
+      trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentleman who has honored my
+      child in his love for her. If I have hurt you in these bitter words,
+      forgive me; as my daughter&rsquo;s husband, we must be more than friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out his hand. The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,
+      made answer somewhat confusedly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice, I thank you. I can say no more now, except that no son could
+      love and honor you more than I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,
+      looking straight ahead of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My darling,&rdquo; said her father, softly laying his hand on her head and
+      raising her lovely face, &ldquo;if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trust me,
+      dear, it was through no lack of love for you. Do not consider me; forget,
+      if you will, all I have said. You are better able, perhaps, than I to
+      judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if after all this
+      thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him. You know
+      that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give you to him, I
+      shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; you can pass
+      through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped and
+      kissed her. He wrung the doctor&rsquo;s hand again in passing, and abruptly
+      turned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruth
+      followed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the old man
+      passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into place
+      behind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      She was perfectly still. Her eyes seemed gazing into vacancy.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth,&rdquo; he said softly; but she did not move. His own face showed signs of
+      the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as if after a
+      long, triumphant struggle. He came nearer and laid his hand gently upon
+      her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;have you forgotten me entirely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His hand shook slightly; but Ruth gave no sign that she saw or heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This has been too much for you,&rdquo; he said, drawing her head to his breast.
+      She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her face lily-white
+      against him. They remained in this position for some minutes till he
+      became alarmed at her passivity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are tired, darling,&rdquo; he said, stroking her cheek; &ldquo;shall I leave
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, and sprang
+      to her feet. She turned giddy and swayed toward him. He caught her in his
+      arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so dizzy,&rdquo; she laughed in a broken voice, looking with dry, shining
+      eyes at him; &ldquo;hold me for a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He experienced a feeling of surprise as she clasped her arms around his
+      neck; Ruth had been very shy with her caresses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes met hers in a long, strange look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what are you thinking?&rdquo; he asked in a low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is an old German song I used to sing,&rdquo; she replied musingly; &ldquo;will
+      you think me very foolish if I say it is repeating itself to me now, over
+      and over again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, dear?&rsquo; he asked, humoring her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you understand German? Oh, of course, my student; but this is a sad
+      old song; students don&rsquo;t sing such things. These are some of the words:
+      &lsquo;Beh te Gott! es war zu schoen gewesen.&rsquo; I wish&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a miserable song,&rdquo; he said lightly; &ldquo;forget it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She disengaged herself from his arms and sat down. Some late roisterers
+      passing by in the street were heard singing to the twang of a mandolin. It
+      was a full, deep song, and the casual voices blended in perfect accord. As
+      the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him with a haunting
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;People are always singing to us; I wish they wouldn&rsquo;t. Music is so sad;
+      it is like a heart-break.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knelt beside her; he was a tall man, and the action seemed natural.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are pale and tired,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and I am going to take a doctor&rsquo;s
+      privilege and send you to bed. To-morrow you can answer better what I so
+      long to hear. You heard what your father said; your answer rests entirely
+      with you. Will you write, or shall I come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, &ldquo;you have
+      very pretty, soft dark hair? Does it feel as soft as it looks?&rdquo; She raised
+      her hand, and ran her fingers lingeringly through his short, thick hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she said brightly, &ldquo;here are some silvery threads on your temples.
+      Troubles, darling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall pull them out,&rdquo; he answered, drawing her little hand to his
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, go away,&rdquo; she said quickly, snatching it from him and moving from
+      her chair as he rose. She rested her elbow on the mantel-shelf, and the
+      candles from the silver candelabra shone on her face; it looked strained
+      and weary. Kemp&rsquo;s brows gathered in a frown as he saw it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going this minute,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and I wish you to go to bed at once.
+      Don&rsquo;t think of anything but sleep. Promise me you will go to bed as soon
+      as I leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, sweetheart,&rdquo; he said, kissing her softly, &ldquo;and dream happy
+      dreams.&rdquo; He stooped again to kiss her hands, and moved toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Herbert!&rdquo; His hand was on the portiere, and he turned in alarm at her
+      strange call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked, taking a step toward her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. Don&rsquo;t&mdash;don&rsquo;t come back, I say. I just wished to see your
+      face. I shall write to you. Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the curtain fell behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he passed down the gravel walk, a hack drew up and stopped in front of
+      the house. Louis Arnold sprang out. The two men came face to face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold recognized the doctor immediately and drew back. When Kemp saw who
+      it was, he bowed and passed on. Arnold did likewise, but he went in where
+      the other went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late, after midnight. He had just arrived on a delayed southern
+      train. He knew the family had come home that morning. Dr. Kemp was rather
+      early in making a visit; it had also taken him long to make it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louis put his key in the latch and opened the door. It was very quiet; he
+      supposed every one had retired. He flung his hat and overcoat on a chair
+      and walked toward the staircase. As he passed the drawing-room, a stream
+      of light came from beneath the portiere. He hesitated in surprise,
+      everything was so quiet. Probably the last one had forgotten to put out
+      the lights. He stepped noiselessly up and entered the room. His footfall
+      made no sound on the soft carpet as he moved about putting out the lights.
+      He walked to the mantel to blow out the candles, but stopped, dumfounded,
+      within a foot of it. The thing that disturbed him was the motionless white
+      figure of his cousin. It might have been a marble statue, so lifeless she
+      seemed, though her face was hidden in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment Arnold was terrified; but the feeling was immediately
+      succeeded by one of exquisite pain. He was a man not slow to conjecture;
+      by some intuition he understood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He regained his presence of mind and turned quietly to quit the room; his
+      innate delicacy demanded it. He had but turned when a low, moaning sound
+      arrested him; he came back irresolutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you call, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth, it is I, Louis, who is speaking to you. Do you know how late it
+      is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With gentle force he drew her fingers from her face. The mute misery there
+      depicted was pitiful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, go to bed, Ruth,&rdquo; he said as to a child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made a movement to rise, but sank back again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so tired, Louis,&rdquo; she pleaded in a voice of tears, like a weary
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know; but I will help you.&rdquo; The unfamiliar, gentle quality of his
+      voice penetrated even to her numbed senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not seen him since the night he had asked her to be his wife. No
+      remembrance of this came to her, but his presence held something new and
+      restful. She allowed him to draw her to her feet; and as calmly as a
+      brother he led her upstairs and into her room. Without a question he lit
+      the gas for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Ruth,&rdquo; he said, blowing out the match. &ldquo;Go right to bed; your
+      head will be relieved by sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Louis,&rdquo; she said, feeling dimly grateful for something his
+      words implied; &ldquo;good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold noiselessly closed the door behind him. She quickly locked it and
+      sat down in the nearest chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hands were interlaced so tightly that her nails left imprints in the
+      flesh. She had something to consider. Oh dear, it was such a simple thing;
+      was she to break her father&rsquo;s heart, or her own and&mdash;his? Her
+      father&rsquo;s, or his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was so stupid to sit and repeat it. Surely it was decided long ago.
+      Such a long time ago, when her father&rsquo;s loving face had put on its misery.
+      Would it look that way always? No, no, no! She would not have it; she
+      dared not; it was too utterly wretched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still, there was some one else at the thought of whom her temples throbbed
+      wildly. It would hurt him; she knew it. The thought for a moment was a
+      miserable ecstasy; for he loved her,&mdash;her, simple Ruth Levice,&mdash;beyond
+      all doubting she knew he loved her; and, oh, father, father, how she loved
+      him! Why must she give it all up? she questioned fiercely; did she owe no
+      duty to herself? Was she to drag out all the rest of her weary life
+      without his love? Life! It would be a lingering death, and she was young
+      yet in years. Other girls had married with graver obstacles, in open
+      rupture with their parents, and they had been happy. Why could not she? It
+      was not as if he were at fault; no one dared breathe a word against his
+      fair fame. To look at his strong, handsome face meant confidence. That was
+      when he left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some one else had left the room also. Some one who had loved her all her
+      life, some one who had grown accustomed in more than twenty years to
+      listen gladly for her voice, to anticipate every wish, to hold her as in
+      the palm of a loving hand, to look for and rest on her unquestioned love.
+      He too had left the room; but he was not strong and handsome, poor, poor
+      old father with his small bent shoulders. What a wretched thing it is to
+      be old and have the heart-strings that have so confidently twisted
+      themselves all these years around another rudely cut off,&mdash;and that
+      by your only child!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the thought an icy quiet stole over her. How long she sat there,
+      musing, debating, she did not know. When the gray dawn broke, she rose up
+      calmly and seated herself at her writing-table. She wrote steadily for
+      some time without erasing a single word. She addressed the envelope
+      without a falter over the name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is over,&rdquo; she said audibly and deliberately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cock crowed. It was the beginning of another day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XIX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp tossed the reins to his man, sprang from his carriage, and
+      hurried into his house. &ldquo;Burke!&rdquo; he called while closing the door,
+      &ldquo;Burke!&rdquo; He walked toward the back of the house and into the kitchen,
+      still calling. Finding it empty, he walked back again and began a still
+      hunt about the pieces of furniture in the various rooms. Being
+      unsuccessful, he went into his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurried
+      again to the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where have you been, Burke?&rdquo; he exclaimed as that spare-looking personage
+      turned, spoon in hand, from the range.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right here, General,&rdquo; he replied in surprise, &ldquo;except when I went out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well; did any mail come here for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One little Billy-do, General. I put it under your dinner-plate; and shall
+      I serve the soup?&rdquo; the last was bellowed after his master&rsquo;s retreating
+      form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till I ring,&rdquo; he called back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and sat down
+      hastily, conscious of a slight excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His name and address stared at him from the white envelope in a round,
+      firm hand. There was something about the loop-letters that reminded him of
+      her, and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface. He did not break
+      the seal for some minutes,&mdash;anticipation is sometimes sweeter than
+      realization. Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for a second,&mdash;a
+      boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished some expected
+      pleasure to spring suddenly upon him. How would she address him? The
+      memory of their last meeting gave him courage, and he opened his eyes. The
+      denouement was disconcerting. Directly under the tiny white monogram she
+      had begun without heading of any description:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was cruel of me to let you go as I did: you were hopeful when you left.
+      I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason. After all, it saved
+      you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even then I knew
+      it could never be. Never! Forever!&mdash;do you know the meaning of those
+      two long words? I do. They have burned themselves irrevocably into my
+      brain; try to understand them,&mdash;they are final.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you know
+      exactly how I still consider what is separating us. I am wrong. Only I am
+      causing this separation; no one else could or would. Do not blame my
+      father; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; he
+      would think I am sacrificing my happiness for him. I have no doubt you
+      think so now. Let me try to make you understand how different it really
+      is. I am no Jephthah&rsquo;s daughter,&mdash;he wants no sacrifice, and I make
+      none. Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me. You heard my
+      father&rsquo;s words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoil
+      upon your heart like a death&rsquo;s hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward I am!
+      Let me say it now,&mdash;I could never be happy with you. Do you remember
+      Shylock,&mdash;the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a
+      breaking heart? I could not make merry while he wept; my heart would weep
+      also. You see how selfish I am; I am doing it for my own sake, and for no
+      one&rsquo;s else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And that is why I ask you now to forgive me,&mdash;because I am not noble
+      enough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I am a
+      light person seemingly to play thus with a man&rsquo;s heart. If this reflection
+      can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it sound presumptuous or ironical
+      for me to say I shall pray you may be happy without me? Well, it is said
+      hearts do not break for love,&mdash;that is, not quickly. If you will just
+      think of what I have done, surely you will not regret your release; you
+      may yet find a paradise with some other and better woman. No, I am not
+      harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be happy. Why should not you,
+      then,&mdash;you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. In your busy, full life
+      this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthy of spoiling your life
+      for you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. I am
+      such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgive me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      RUTH.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking
+      soup.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;thought you had forgotten to ring,&rdquo; he stammered, shocked
+      at the altered face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it away,&rdquo; said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. &ldquo;I do
+      not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not be
+      disturbed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and
+      went back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his
+      desk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It took a
+      long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him as he
+      laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could see the
+      expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty feeling
+      of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her,&mdash;how could he,
+      with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got up and
+      paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling almost
+      overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves to him.
+      &ldquo;Paradise with some other, better woman,&rdquo;&mdash;she might have left that
+      out; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. &ldquo;I too shall
+      be happy.&rdquo; Not that, not some other man&rsquo;s wife,&mdash;the thought was
+      demoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. &ldquo;I must get
+      out of this,&rdquo; he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hat and
+      went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with it, and
+      then came home and wrote to her:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I can never forgive you; love&rsquo;s litany holds no such word. Be happy if you
+      can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much,&mdash;the fact that you are
+      somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the
+      living. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,
+      the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever the need,
+      remember&mdash;I am at hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      HERBERT KEMP.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice&rsquo;s face was more haggard than Ruth&rsquo;s when, after this answer was
+      received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavy shadows
+      around her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all over, Father,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;we have parted forever. Perhaps I did
+      not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shall be
+      happier with you, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure, my darling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it is dead
+      and buried; we must never remind each other of it again. Kiss me, Father,
+      and forget that it has been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as he
+      looked into her lovely, resolute face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      We do not live wholly through ourselves. What is called fate is but the
+      outcome of the spinning of other individuals twisted into the woof of our
+      own making; so no life should be judged as a unit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth Levice was not alone in the world; she was neither recluse nor a
+      genius, but a girl with many loving friends and a genial home-life. Having
+      resolved to bear to the world an unchanged front, she outwardly did as she
+      had always done. Her mother&rsquo;s zealous worldliness returned with her
+      health; and Ruth fell in with all her plans for a gay winter,&mdash;that
+      is, the plans were gay; Ruth&rsquo;s presence could hardly be termed so. The old
+      spontaneous laugh was superseded by a gentle smile, sympathetic perhaps,
+      but never joyous. She listened more, and seldom now took the lead in a
+      general conversation, though there was a charm about a tete-a-tete with
+      her that earnest persons, men and women, felt without being able to define
+      it. For the change, without doubt, was there. It was as if a quiet hand
+      had been passed over her exuberant, happy girlhood and left a serious,
+      thoughtful woman in its stead. A subtile change like this is not speedily
+      noticed by outsiders; it requires usage before an acquaintance will
+      account it a characteristic instead of a mood. But her family knew it.
+      Mrs. Levice, wholly in the dark as to the cause, wondered openly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might be thirty, Ruth, instead of twenty-two, by the staidness of
+      your demeanor. While other girls are laughing and chatting as girls
+      should, you look on with the tolerant dignity of a woman of grave
+      concerns. If you had anything to trouble you, there might be some excuse;
+      but as it is, why can&rsquo;t you go into enjoyments like the rest of your
+      friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t I? Why, I hardly know another girl who lives in such constant
+      gayety as I. Are we not going to a dinner this evening and to the ball
+      to-morrow night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but you might as well be going to a funeral for all the pleasure you
+      seem to anticipate. If you come to a ball with such a grandly serious air,
+      the men will just as soon think of asking a statue to dance as you. A
+      statue may be beautiful in its niche, but people do not care to study its
+      meaning at a ball.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you wish me to do, Mamma? I should hate the distinction of a
+      wall-flower, which you think imminent. I am afraid I am too big a woman to
+      be frolicsome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never were that, but you were at least a girl. People will begin to
+      think you consider yourself above them, or else that you have some secret
+      trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile of incredulity with which she answered her would have been
+      heart-breaking had it been understood. No flush stained the ivory pallor
+      of her face at these thrusts in the dark; Louis was never annoyed in this
+      way now. Her old-time excited contradictions never obtruded themselves in
+      their conversations. A silent knowledge lay between them which neither, by
+      word or look, ever alluded to. Mrs. Levice noted with delight their
+      changed relations. Louis&rsquo;s sarcasm ceased to be directed at Ruth; and
+      though the familiar sparring was missing, Mrs. Levice preferred his
+      deferential bearing when he addressed her, and Ruth&rsquo;s grave graciousness
+      with him. She drew her own conclusions, and accepted Ruth&rsquo;s quietness with
+      more patience on this account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Louis understood somewhat; and in his manliness he could not hide that her
+      suffering had cost him a new code of actions. But he could not understand
+      as her father did. Despite her brave smile, Levice could almost read her
+      heart-beats, and the knowledge brought a hardness and a bitter regret. He
+      grew to scanning her face surreptitiously, looking in vain for the old,
+      untroubled delight in things; and when the unmistakable signs of secret
+      anguish would leave traces at times, he would turn away with a groan. Yet
+      there was nothing to be done. He knew that her love had been no light
+      thing nor could her giving up be so; but feeling that no matter what the
+      present cost, the result would compensate, he trusted to time to heal the
+      wound. Meanwhile his own self-blame at these times left its mark upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For Ruth lived a dual life. The real one was passed in her quiet chamber,
+      in her long solitary walks, and when she sat with her book, apparently
+      reading. She would look up with blank, despairing eyes, clinched hands,
+      and hard-set teeth when the thought of him and all her loss would steal
+      upon her. Her father had caught many such a look upon her face. She had
+      resolved to live without him, but accomplishment is not so easy. Besides,
+      it was not as if she never saw him. San Francisco is not so large a city
+      but that by the turning of a corner you may not come across a friend. Ruth
+      grew to study the sounds the different kinds of vehicles made; and the
+      rolling wheels of a doctor&rsquo;s carriage behind her would set her pulses
+      fluttering in fright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was walking one day along Sutter Street toward Gough from Octavia. The
+      street takes a sudden down-grade midway in the block. She was approaching
+      this declension just before the Boys&rsquo; High School when a carriage drove
+      quickly up the hill toward her. The horses gave a bound as if the reins
+      had been jerked; there was the momentary flash of a man&rsquo;s stern, white
+      face as he raised his hat; and Ruth was walking down the hill, trembling
+      and pale. It was the first time; and for one minute her heart seemed to
+      stop beating and then rushed wildly on. Whether she had bowed or made any
+      sign of recognition, she did not know. It did not matter, though; if he
+      thought her cold or strange or anything, what difference could it possibly
+      make? For her there would be left forever this dead emptiness. These
+      casual meetings were inevitable; and she would come home after them
+      worn-out and heavy-eyed. &ldquo;A slight headache&rdquo; was a recurrent excuse with
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had common friends, and it would not have been surprising had she met
+      him at the different affairs to which she went, always through her
+      mother&rsquo;s desire. But the dread of coming upon him slowly departed as the
+      months rolled by and with them all token of him. Time and again she would
+      hear allusions to him. &ldquo;Dr. Kemp has developed into a misogynist,&rdquo; pouted
+      Dorothy Gwynne. &ldquo;He was one of the few decided eligibles on the horizon,
+      but it requires the magnet of illness to draw him now. I really must look
+      up the symptoms of a possible ache; the toilet and expression of an
+      invalid are very becoming, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp made a splendid donation to our kindergarten to-day. I have not
+      seen him since we were in the country, and he thought me looking very
+      well. He inquired after the family, and I told him we had a residence, at
+      which he smiled.&rdquo; This from Mrs. Levice. Ruth would have given much to
+      have been able to ask after him with self-possession, but the muscles of
+      her throat seemed to swell and choke her while silent. She went now and
+      then to see Bob Bard in his flower-store; he would without fail inquire
+      after &ldquo;our friend&rdquo; or tell her of his having passed that day. Here was her
+      one chance of inquiring if he was looking well, to which the answer was
+      invariably &ldquo;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat one night at the opera in her wonted beauty, with her soft, dusky
+      hair rolled from her sweet Madonna face. Many a lorgnette was raised a
+      second and a third time toward her. Louis, seated next to her, resented
+      with unaccountable ferocity this free admiration that she did not see or
+      feel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the curtain went down on the first act, he drew her attention to some
+      celebrity then passing out. She raised her glass, but her hand fell
+      nerveless in her lap. Immediately following him came Dr. Kemp. Their eyes
+      met, and he bowed low, passing on immediately. The rest of the evening
+      passed like a nightmare; she heard nothing but her heart-throbs, saw
+      nothing but his beloved face regarding her with simple courtesy. Louis
+      knew that for her the opera was over; the tell-tale bistrous shadows grew
+      around her eyes, and she became deadly silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a magnificent man he is,&rdquo; murmured Mrs. Levice, &ldquo;and what an
+      impressive bow he has!&rdquo; Ruth did not hear her; but when she reached her
+      own room, she threw herself face downward on her bed in intolerable
+      anguish. She was not a girl who cried easily. If she had been, her
+      suffering would not have been so intense,&mdash;when the flood-gates are
+      opened, the river finds relief. Over and over again she wished she might
+      die and end this eager, passionate craving for some token of love from
+      him, or for the power of letting him know how it was with her. And it
+      would always be thus as long as she lived. She did not deceive herself; no
+      mere friendship would have sufficed,&mdash;all or nothing after what had
+      been.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Physically, however, she bore no traces of this continual restraint. On
+      the contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions. Little
+      children, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to be taken
+      into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her. By degrees
+      her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect and the sympathy of
+      her face, and came to regard her as the queen of confidantes. Young girls
+      with their continual love episodes and excitements, ambitious youths with
+      their whimsical schemes of life and aspirations of love, sought her out
+      openly. Few of these latter dared hope for any individual thought from
+      her, though any of the older men would have staked a good deal for the
+      knowledge that she singled him for her consideration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold viewed it all with inward satisfaction. He regarded memory but as a
+      sort of palimpsest; and he was patiently waiting until his own name should
+      appear again, when the other&rsquo;s should have been sufficiently obliterated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a severe winter, and everybody appreciated the luxury of a warm
+      home. December came in wet and cold, and la grippe held the country in its
+      disagreeable hold. The Levices were congratulating themselves one evening
+      on their having escaped the epidemic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose the secret of it lies in the fact that we do not coddle
+      ourselves,&rdquo; observed Levice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you were to coddle yourself a little more,&rdquo; retorted his wife, &ldquo;you
+      would not cough every morning as you do. Really, Jules, if you do not
+      consult a physician, I shall send for Kemp myself. I actually think it is
+      making you thin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; he replied carelessly; &ldquo;it is only a little irritation of the
+      throat every morning. If the weather is clear next week, I must go to New
+      York. Eh, Louis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At this time of the year!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Levice, in expostulation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some one has to go, and the only one that should is I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I could manage it,&rdquo; said Louis, &ldquo;if you would see about the other
+      adjustment while I am gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you could not,&rdquo;&mdash;when Levice said &ldquo;no,&rdquo; it seldom meant an
+      ultimate &ldquo;yes.&rdquo; &ldquo;Besides, the trip will do me good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall go with you,&rdquo; put in Mrs. Levice, decidedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear; you could not stand the cold in New York, and I could not be
+      bothered with a woman&rsquo;s grip-sack.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take Ruth, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should love to go with you, Father,&rdquo; she replied to the questioning
+      glance of his eyes. He seemed to ponder over it for a while, but shook his
+      head finally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said again; &ldquo;I shall be very busy, and a woman would be a
+      nuisance to me. Besides, I wish to be alone for a while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They all looked at him in surprise; he was so unused to making testy
+      remarks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grown tired of womankind?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Levice, playfully. &ldquo;Well, if you
+      must, you must; don&rsquo;t overstay your health and visit, and bring us
+      something pretty. How long will you be gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends on the speediness of the courts. No more than three weeks at
+      the utmost, however.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the following Wednesday being bright and sunny, he set off; the family
+      crossed the bay with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care of your mother, Ruth,&rdquo; he said at parting, &ldquo;and of yourself, my
+      pale darling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about me, Father,&rdquo; she said, pulling up his furred collar;
+      &ldquo;indeed, I am well and happy. If you could believe me, perhaps you would
+      love me as much as you used to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As much! My child, I never loved you better than now; remember that. I
+      think I have forgotten everybody else in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, dear! it makes me feel miserable to think I should cause you a
+      moment&rsquo;s uneasiness. Won&rsquo;t you believe that everything is as I wish it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I could, I should have to lose the memory of the last four months.
+      Well, try your best to forgive me, child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unless you hate me, don&rsquo;t hurt me with that thought again. I forgive you?
+      I, who am the cause of it all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her tear-filled eyes tenderly, and turned with a sign to her
+      mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They watched to the last his loved face at the window, Ruth with a sad
+      smile and a loving wave of her handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Over at the mole it is not a bad place to witness tragedies. Pathos holds
+      the upper hand, and the welcomes are sometimes as heart-rending as the
+      leave-takings. A woman stood on the ferry with a blank, working face down
+      which the tears fell heedlessly; a man, her husband, turned from her, drew
+      his hat down over his eyes, and stalked off toward the train without a
+      backward glance. Parting is a figure of death in this respect,&mdash;that
+      only those who are left need mourn; the others have something new beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The fire-light threw grotesque shadows on the walls. Ruth and Louis in the
+      library made no movement to ring for lights; it was quite cosey as it was.
+      They had both drawn near the crackling wood-blaze, Ruth in a low rocker,
+      Arnold in Mr. Levice&rsquo;s broad easy-chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I surely thought you intended going to the concert this evening, Louis,&rdquo;
+       she said, looking across at him. &ldquo;I fancy Mamma expected you to accompany
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Voluntarily put myself into the cold when there is a fire blazing
+      right here? Ah, no. At any rate, your mother is all right with the
+      Lewises, and I am all right with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I give you a guarantee I shall not bite; you look altogether too hard for
+      my cannibalistic propensities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is something not to be accounted soft. I think a redundancy of flesh
+      overflows in trickling sentimentality. My worst enemy could not accuse me
+      of either fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your best friend would not mind a little thaw now and then. One of
+      the girls confided to me today that walking on and over-waxed floor was
+      nothing to attempting an equal footing in conversation with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry I am such a slippery customer. Does not the fire burn your
+      face? Shall I hand you a screen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I like to toast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your complexion might char; move your chair a little forward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In two minutes I intend to have lights and to bring my work down. Will it
+      make you tired to watch me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exceedingly. I prefer your undivided attention; it is not often we are
+      alone, Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up slightly startled; he seldom made personal remarks. Her
+      pulses began to flutter with the premonition that reference to a tacitly
+      buried secret was going to be made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have been going out and receiving a good deal lately, though somehow I
+      don&rsquo;t feel festive, with Father away in freezing New York. Mamma would
+      gladly have stayed at home to-night if Jennie had not insisted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think so? I fancy she was a very willing captive; she intimated as
+      much to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in words, but her eyes were interesting reading: first, capitulation
+      to Jennie, then, in rapid succession, inspiration, command, entreaty, a
+      challenge and retreat, all directed at me. Possibly this eloquence was
+      lost upon you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Entirely. What was your interpretation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that was confidential. Perhaps I even endowed her with these
+      thoughts, knowing her desires were in touch with my own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is wanton cruelty to arouse a woman&rsquo;s curiosity and leave it
+      unsatisfied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not cruelty; it is cowardice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gazed at him in wonder. His apple-blossom cheeks wore a rosier glow
+      than usual. He seized a log from the box, threw it on the blaze that
+      illumined their faces, grasped the poker, and leaning forward in his chair
+      let it grow hot as he held it to the flames. His glasses fell off,
+      dangling from the cord; and as he adjusted them, he caught the curious,
+      half-amused smile on Ruth&rsquo;s attentive face. He gave the fire a sharp
+      raking and addressed her, gazing into the leaping flames.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was wondering why, after all, you could not be happy as my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A numbness as of death overspread her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I could make you happy, Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the pregnant silence that followed he looked up, and meeting her sad,
+      reproachful eyes, laid down the poker softly but resolutely; there was
+      method in the action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In fact, I know I could make you happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis, have you forgotten?&rdquo; she cried in sharp pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have forgotten nothing,&rdquo; he replied incisively. &ldquo;Listen to me, Ruth. It
+      is because I remember that I ask you. Give me the right to care for you,
+      and you will be happier than you can ever be in these circumstances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not know what you ask, Louis. Even if I could, you would never be
+      satisfied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try me, Ruth,&rdquo; he entreated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised herself from her easy, reclining position, and regarded him
+      earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you desire,&rdquo; she said in a restrained manner, &ldquo;would be little short
+      of a crime for me. What manner of wife should I be to you when my every
+      thought is given to another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His face put on the set look of one who has shut his teeth hard together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I anticipated this repulse,&rdquo; he said after a pause; &ldquo;so what you have
+      just assured me of does not affect my wish or my resolution to continue my
+      plea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you marry a woman who feels herself as closely bound to another, or
+      the memory of another, as if the marriage rite had been actually
+      performed? Oh, Louis, how could you force me to these disclosures?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am seeking no disclosure, but it is impossible for me to continue
+      silent now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Because I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat so close together he might have touched her by putting out his
+      hand, but he remained perfectly still, only the pale excitement of long
+      repression speaking from his face; but she shrank back at his words and
+      raised her hand as if about to receive a blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not be alarmed,&rdquo; he continued, noticing the action; &ldquo;my love cannot
+      hurt you, or it would have killed you long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Louis,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;forgive me; I never thought you cared so
+      much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How should you? I am not a man to wear my heart upon my sleeve. I think I
+      have always loved you; but living as familiarly as we have lived, seeing
+      you whenever I wished, the thought that some day this might end never
+      occurred to me. It was only when the possibility of some other man&rsquo;s
+      claiming your love and taking you from me presented itself, that my heart
+      rose up in arms against it,&mdash;and then I asked you to be my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, raising her pale face; &ldquo;and I refused. The same cause
+      that moved me then, and to which you submitted without protest, rules me
+      now, and you know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I do not know it. What then might have had a possible issue is now
+      done with&mdash;or do I err?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mouth trembled piteously, but no tears came as she lowered her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then listen to me. You may think me a poor sort of a fellow even to wish
+      you to marry me when you assure me that you love another. That means that
+      you do not love me as a husband should be loved, but it does not prove
+      that you never could love me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It proves just that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you may think so now, but let me reason you into seeing the falsity
+      of your thought,&mdash;for I do not wish to force or impel you to do a
+      thing repugnant to your reason as well as to your feelings. To begin with,
+      you do not dislike me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His face was painful in its eagerness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have always loved you as a dear brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some people would consider that worse than hostility; I do not. Another
+      question: Is there anything about my life or personality to which you
+      object, or of which your are ashamed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know how proud we all are of you in your bearing in every relation of
+      life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was egotist enough to think as much at any rate; otherwise I could not
+      approach you so confidently. Well, love&mdash;indifferent if you will&mdash;and
+      respect are not a bad foundation for something stronger. Will you, for the
+      sake of argument, suppose that for some reason you have forgotten your
+      opposition and have been led into marrying me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sad indulgence of her smile was not inspiriting, but he continued,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, then, say you are my wife; that means I am your husband, and I love
+      you. You do not return my love, you say; you think you would be wretched
+      with me because you love another. Still, you are married to me; that gives
+      me rights that no other man can possess, no matter how much you love him.
+      You are bound to me, I to you and your happiness; so I pledge myself to
+      make you happier than you are now, because I shall make you forget this
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You could not, and I should only grow to hate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible,&rdquo; the pallor of his face intensifying; &ldquo;because I should so
+      act that my love would wait upon your pleasure: it would never push itself
+      into another&rsquo;s place, but it would in time overshadow the other. For,
+      remember, I shall be your husband. I shall give you another life; I shall
+      take you away with me. You will leave all your old friends and
+      associations for a while, and I shall be with you always,&mdash;not
+      intrusively, but necessarily. I shall give you every pleasure and novelty
+      that the Old World can afford. I shall shower my love on you, not myself.
+      In return I shall expect your tolerance. In time I will make you love me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice shook with the strength of his passion, while she listened in
+      heart-sick fear. Carried away by his manner, she almost felt as if he had
+      accomplished his object. He quieted down after this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you see, Ruth, that all this change must make you forget? And if
+      you tried to put the past from you for no other reason than that your
+      wifehood would be less untrue, you would be but following the instincts of
+      a truly honorable woman. After that, all would be easy. In every instance
+      you would be forced to look upon me as your husband, for you would belong
+      to me. I should be the author of all your surroundings; and always keeping
+      in mind how I want you to regard me, I should woo you so tenderly that
+      without knowing it you would finally yield. Then, and only then, when I
+      had filled your thought to the exclusion of every other man, I should
+      bring you home; and I think we should be happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you would be satisfied to give so much and receive so little?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The end would repay me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a pretty story,&rdquo; she said, letting her hands fall listlessly into
+      her lap, &ldquo;but the denouement is a castle in Spain that we should never
+      inhabit. You think your love is strong enough to kill mine first of all;
+      well, I tell you, nothing is strong enough for that. With this fact
+      established the rest is needless to speak of. It is only your dream,
+      Louis; forgive me that I unwittingly intruded into it; reality would mean
+      disillusion,&mdash;we are happy only when we dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are bitter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our relations are turned, then; I have put into practice your old
+      theories of the uselessness of life. No; I am wrong. It is better to die
+      than not to have loved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think you have lived your life, then. I can&rsquo;t convince you otherwise
+      now; but I am going to beg you to think this over, to try to imagine
+      yourself my wife. I will not hasten your decision, but in a week&rsquo;s time
+      you should be able to answer me yes or no. If anything can help my cause,
+      I cannot overlook it; so I may tell you now that for some occult reason
+      your mother&rsquo;s one wish is to see you my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my father?&rdquo; her voice was harsh now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father has expressed to your mother that such a course would make
+      him happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose suddenly as if oppressed. Her face looked hard to a degree. She
+      stood before him, tall and rigid. He stood up and faced her, reading her
+      face so intently that he straightened himself as if to receive an attack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will consider what you have said,&rdquo; she said mechanically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The reaction was so unexpected that he turned giddy and caught on to the
+      back of a chair to steady himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will not take me a week,&rdquo; she went on with no change in her monotone;
+      &ldquo;I can give you an answer in a day or two. To-morrow night, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a step forward, a movement to seize her hand; but she stepped back
+      and waved him off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me,&rdquo; she cried in a suppressed voice; &ldquo;at least you are not
+      my husband&mdash;yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned hastily toward the door without another word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His vibrant voice compelled her to turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want no martyr for a wife, nor yet a tragedy queen. If you can come to
+      me and honestly say, &lsquo;I trust my happiness to you,&rsquo; well and good. But as
+      I told you once before, I am not a saint, and I cannot always control
+      myself as I have been forced to do tonight. If this admission is damaging,
+      it is too true to be put lightly aside. I shall not detain you longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked haughty and cold regarding her from this dim distance. Her
+      gentleness struggled to get the better of her, and she came back and held
+      out her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry if I offended you, Louis; good-night. Will you not pardon my
+      selfishness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes gleamed behind their glasses; he did not take her hand, but
+      merely bent over the little peace-offering as over a sacrament. Seeing
+      that he had no intention of doing more, her hand fell passively to her
+      side, and she left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the door closed softly, Arnold sank with a hopeless gesture into a
+      chair and buried his face in his hands. He was not a stoic, but a man,&mdash;a
+      Frenchman, who loved much; but Arnold, half-blinded by his own love,
+      scarcely appreciated the depths of self-forgetfulness to which Ruth would
+      have to succumb in order to accept the guaranty of happiness which he
+      offered her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question now presented itself in the light of a duty: if by this
+      action she could undo the remorse that her former offence had inflicted,
+      had she the right to ignore the opportunity? A vision of her own sad face
+      obtruded itself, but she put it sternly from her. If she were to do this
+      thing, the motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly kept in view
+      the fact that her marriage would be the only means by which her father
+      might be relieved of the haunting knowledge of her lost peace of mind. Had
+      she given one thought to Louis, the possibility of the act would have been
+      abhorrent to her. One picture she kept constantly before her,&mdash;her
+      father&rsquo;s happy eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was embroidering
+      to Ruth&rsquo;s pale face. Every time the latter stirred, her mother started
+      expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not forthcoming.
+      Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the feeling of
+      comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call
+      comfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth&rsquo;s face had at last
+      led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark
+      shadows about her eyes meant something decidedly not gladsome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you feel well, Ruth?&rdquo; she asked finally with some anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth raised her heavy eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Oh, I feel perfectly well. Why do you ask? Do I look ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you do; your face is pale, and your eyes look tired. Did you sit up
+      late last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so
+      evident to her now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied; &ldquo;I believe it could not have been nine when I went
+      upstairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis&rsquo;s company unpleasant?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such
+      tactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of
+      which her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almost positive
+      that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash of
+      intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. It was
+      natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so
+      reserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something
+      more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; she observed, as if continuing a discussion, &ldquo;I think Louis
+      charming in a tete-a-tete,&mdash;when he feels inclined to be interesting
+      he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worth repeating? It is a
+      dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and encountered
+      Ruth&rsquo;s full, questioning gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it you would like to know, Mamma?&rdquo; she asked in a gentle voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing that you do not wish to tell,&rdquo; her mother answered proudly, but
+      regarding her intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment
+      before answering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had decided
+      I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked me to&mdash;marry
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The avowal was not made with the conventional confusion and trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice was startled by the dead calm of her manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say that as if it were a daily occurrence for a man like Louis Arnold
+      to offer you his hand and name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you do. I confess I think you are not one tenth as excited as I am.
+      Why didn&rsquo;t you tell me before? Any other girl would have sat up to tell
+      her mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have been
+      looking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean by
+      saying you wished to wait till you had decided? Decided what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As if you could question it, you fortunate girl! Or were you waiting for
+      me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have been honored.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honor is not everything, Mamma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment a desperate longing for her mother&rsquo;s sympathy seized her;
+      but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would occasion
+      came to her, and her lips remained closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; responded her mother, &ldquo;and you have more than that; surely Louis did
+      not neglect to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean his love, I suppose,&mdash;yes, I have that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what else would you have? You probably know that he can give you
+      every luxury within reason,&mdash;so much for honest practicality. As to
+      Louis himself, the most fastidious could find nothing to cavil at,&mdash;he
+      will make you a perfect husband. You are familiar enough with him to know
+      his faults; but no man is faultless. I hope you are not so silly as to
+      expect some girlish ideal,&mdash;for all the ideals died in the Golden
+      Age, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As mine did. No; I have outgrown imagination in that line.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why do you hesitate?&rdquo; Her mother&rsquo;s eyes were shining; her face was
+      alive with the excitement of hope fulfilled. &ldquo;Is there anything else
+      wanting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she responded dully; &ldquo;but let us not talk about it any more, please.
+      I must see Louis again, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If your father were here, he could help you better, dear;&rdquo; there was no
+      reproach in Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s gentle acceptance of the fact; &ldquo;he will be so
+      happy over it. There, kiss me, girlie; I know you like to think things out
+      in silence, and I shall not say another word about it till you give me
+      leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She kept her word. The dreary afternoon dragged on. By four o-clock it was
+      growing dark, and Mrs. Levice became restless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to my room to write to your father now,&mdash;he shall have a
+      good scolding for the non-receipt of a letter to-day;&rdquo; and forthwith she
+      betook herself upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth closed her book and moved restlessly about the room. She wandered
+      over to the front window, and drawing aside the silken curtain, looked out
+      into the storm-tossed garden. The pale heliotropes lay wet and sweet
+      against the trellises; some loosened rose-petals fluttered noiselessly to
+      the ground; only the gorgeous chrysanthemums looked proudly indifferent to
+      the elements; and the beautiful, stately palm-tree just at the side of the
+      window spread its gracious arms like a protecting temple. She felt
+      suddenly oppressed and feverish, and threw open the long French window.
+      The rain had ceased for the time, and she stepped out upon the veranda.
+      The fragrance of the rain-soaked flowers stole to her senses; the soft,
+      sweet breeze caressed her temples; she stood still in the perfumed
+      freshness and enjoyed its peace. By and by she began to walk up and down.
+      Evening was approaching, and Louis would soon be home. She had decided to
+      meet him on his return and have it over with. She must school herself to
+      some show of graciousness. The thing must not be done by halves or it must
+      not be done at all. Her father&rsquo;s happiness; over and over she repeated it.
+      She went so far as to picture herself in his arms; she heard the old-time
+      words of blessing; she saw his smiling eyes; and a gentleness stole over
+      her whole face, a gentle nobility that made it strangely sweet. The soft
+      patter of rain on the gravel roused her, and she went in; but she felt
+      better, and wished Louis might come in while the mood was upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearing six when Mrs. Levice came back humming a song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would still be here. Make a light, will you, Ruth; it is as
+      pitchy as Hades, only that smouldering log looks purgatorial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth lit the gas; and as she stood with upturned eyes adjusting the
+      burner, her mother noticed that the heaviness had departed from her face.
+      She sank into a rocker and took up the evening paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What time is it, Ruth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty minutes to six,&rdquo; she answered, glancing at the clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As late as that?&rdquo; She meant to say, &ldquo;And Louis not home yet?&rdquo; but forbore
+      to mention his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is raining heavily now,&rdquo; said Ruth, throwing a log upon the fire. Mrs.
+      Levice unfolded the crackling newspaper, and Ruth moved over to the window
+      to draw down the blinds. As she stood looking out with her hand on the
+      chair, she saw the gate swing slowly open, and a messenger-boy came
+      dawdling up the walk as if the sun were streaming full upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth stepped noiselessly out, meaning to anticipate his ring. A vague
+      foreboding drove the blood from her lips as she stood waiting at the open
+      hall-door. Seeing the streaming light, the boy managed to accelerate his
+      snail&rsquo;s pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Ruth Levice live here?&rdquo; he asked, stopping in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; She took the packet he handed her. &ldquo;Any charges or answers?&rdquo; she
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nom,&rdquo; answered the boy; and noticing her pallor and apprehension, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+      shet the door for you,&rdquo; he added, laying his hand on the knob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Here, take two cars if necessary; it is too wet to walk.&rdquo; She
+      handed him a quarter, and the boy went off, gayly whistling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She closed the heavy door softly and sat down on a chair. She recognized
+      Louis&rsquo;s handwriting on the wrapper, and her heart fluttered ominously. She
+      tore off the damp covering, and the first thing she encountered was
+      another wrapper on which was written in large characters:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR RUTH,&mdash;Do not be alarmed; everything is all right. I had to
+      leave town on the overland at 6 P.M. Read the letter first, then the
+      telegram; they will explain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      LOUIS
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The kindly feeling that had prompted this warning was appreciated; one
+      fear was stilled. She drew out the letter; she saw in perplexity that it
+      was from her father. She hurriedly opened it and read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      NEW YORK, Jan. 21, 188&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR LOUIS,&mdash;I am writing this from my bed, where I have been
+      confined for the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a
+      daily postal. Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious to
+      start home again. I really cannot rest here, and have made arrangements to
+      leave to-morrow. Have taken every precaution against catching cold, and
+      apart from feeling a trifle weak and annoyed by a cough, am all right.
+      Shall come home directly. Say nothing of this to Esther or Ruth; shall
+      apprise them by telegram of my home-coming. Had almost completed the
+      business, and can leave the rest to Hamilton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My love to you all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Your loving Uncle,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JULES LEVICE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Under this Louis had pencilled,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Received this this morning at 10.30.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth closed her eyes as she unfolded the telegram; then with every nerve
+      quivering she read the yellow missive:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      RENO, Jan. 27, 188&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      LOUIS ARNOLD, San Francisco, Cal.:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Have been delayed by my cough. Feeling too weak to travel alone. Come if
+      you can.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JULES LEVICE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her limbs shook as she sat; her teeth chattered; for one minute she turned
+      sick and faint. Under the telegram Arnold had written:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Am sure it is nothing. He has never been ill, and is more frightened than
+      a more experienced person would be. There is no need to alarm your mother
+      unnecessarily, so say nothing till you hear from me. Shall wire you as
+      soon as I arrive, which will be to-morrow night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      LOUIS.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How could she refrain from telling her mother? She felt suddenly weak and
+      powerless. O God, good God, her heart cried, only make him well!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of the library door closing made her spring to her feet; her
+      mother stood regarding her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Ruth?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to be calm,&mdash;&ldquo;nothing
+      at all. Louis has just sent me word that he had to leave town this
+      evening, and says not to wait dinner for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very strange,&rdquo; mused her mother, moving slowly toward her and
+      holding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into her
+      pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, do
+      you?&rdquo; she asked, assuming a desperate gayety. &ldquo;There is nothing strange
+      about it; he often leaves like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in such weather and not after&mdash;&mdash; There won&rsquo;t be a man in
+      the house to-night. I wish your father were home; he would not like it if
+      he knew.&rdquo; She shivered slightly as they went into the dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The next day passed like a nightmare. To add to the misery of her secret,
+      her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any communication
+      from her husband. Had the weather been fair, Ruth would have insisted on
+      her going out with her; but to the rain of the day before was added a
+      heavy windstorm that made any unnecessary expedition from home absurd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down. She
+      was sure that the next delivery would bring something. Was it not time for
+      the second delivery? Would not Ruth please watch for the postman? By
+      half-past one she took up her station at the window only to see the jaunty
+      little rubber-encased man go indifferently by. At half-past four this
+      scene was repeated, and then she decided to act.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ring up the telegraph-office, Ruth; I am going to send a despatch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Mamma, probably the mail is delayed; it always is in winter.
+      Besides, you will only frighten Father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense; two days is a long delay without the excuse of a blockade. Go
+      to the telephone, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The telephone was broken yesterday, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had forgotten. Well, one of the girls must go; I can&rsquo;t stand it any
+      longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t send any of the girls in such weather; both the maids have
+      terrible colds, and Mary would not go if you asked her. Listen! It is
+      frightful. I promise to go in the morning if we don&rsquo;t get a letter, but we
+      probably shall. Let us play checkers for a while.&rdquo; With a forced stoicism
+      she essayed to distract her mother&rsquo;s thoughts, but with poor success. The
+      wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately after a show of
+      dining, Mrs. Levice went to bed. At Ruth&rsquo;s suggestion she took some
+      headache medicine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will make me sleep, perhaps; and that will be better than worrying
+      awake and unable to do anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The opiate soon had its effect; and with a sigh of relief Ruth heard her
+      mother&rsquo;s regular breathing. It was now her turn to suffer openly the
+      fox-wounds. Louis had said she would hear to-night; but at what time? It
+      was now eight o&rsquo;clock, and the bell might ring at any moment. Mrs. Levice
+      slept; and Ruth sat dry-eyed and alert, feeling her heart rise to her
+      throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled. It was one of
+      the wildest nights San Francisco ever experienced; trees groaned, gates
+      slammed, and a perfect war of the elements was abroad. The wailing wind
+      about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of some one begging for
+      shelter. The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine. Still her
+      mother slept. Ruth from her chair could see that her cheeks were
+      unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried; but any degree of
+      oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacing tidings.
+      Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrapped them in the
+      fleecy shawl that enveloped her. The action brought to her mind the way
+      her father used to tuck her little hands under the coverlet when a child,
+      after they had clung around his neck in a long good-night, and how no
+      sooner were they there than out they would pop for &ldquo;just one squeeze more,
+      Father;&rdquo; how long the good-nights were with this play! She had never
+      called him &ldquo;papa&rdquo; like other children, but he had always liked it best so.
+      She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweet little chimer rang
+      out ten bells; she began to grow heart-sick with her thoughts; her limbs
+      ached with stiffness, and she began a gentle walk up and down the room.
+      Would it keep up all night? There! surely somebody was crunching up the
+      gravel-walk. With one look at her sleeping mother, she quickly left the
+      room, closing the door carefully behind her. With a palpitating heart she
+      leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm, after all? The next
+      instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as startling in the dead of
+      the night as some supernatural summons. Before Ruth could hurry down,
+      Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out of her room and rushed to the
+      door. In a trice she was back again with the telegram and had put it into
+      Ruth&rsquo;s hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifteen cents&rsquo; charges,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pay it,&rdquo; returned Ruth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the maid turned away, she tore open the envelope. Before she could open
+      the form, a firm hand was placed upon hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me that,&rdquo; said her mother&rsquo;s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth recoiled; Mrs. Levice stood before her unusually quiet in her white
+      night-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth&rsquo;s fingers
+      from the paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Mamma, it was addressed to me&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a mistake, then; I know it was meant for me. Let go instantly, or
+      I shall tear the paper. Obey me, Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice sounded harsh as a man&rsquo;s. At the strange tone Ruth&rsquo;s fingers
+      loosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room; Ruth
+      followed her closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read. No change came over her
+      face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word to Ruth.
+      This was the message:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      RENO, Jan. 28, 188&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MISS RUTH LEVICE, San Francisco, Cal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Found your father very weak and feverish and coughing continually. Insists
+      on getting home immediately. Says to inform Dr. Kemp, who will understand,
+      and have him at the house on our arrival at 11.30 Thursday. No present
+      danger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      LOUIS ARNOLD
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Explain,&rdquo; commanded her mother, speaking in her overwrought condition as
+      if to a stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get into bed first, Mamma, or you will take cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice suffered herself to be led there, and in a few words Ruth
+      explained what she knew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You knew that yesterday before the train left?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Mamma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why didn&rsquo;t you tell me? I should have gone to him. Oh, why didn&rsquo;t you
+      tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have been too late, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is too late now; do you hear? I shall never see him again, and it
+      is all your fault&mdash;what do you know? Stop crying! will you stop
+      crying, or&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that are not
+      true. It will not be too late; perhaps it is nothing but the cough. Louis
+      says there is no danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; cried her mother, her whole figure trembling. &ldquo;I know there is
+      danger now, this minute. Oh, what can I do, what can I do?&rdquo; With this cry
+      all her strength seemed to give way; she sobbed and laughed with the
+      hysteria of long ago; when Ruth strove to put her arms around her, she
+      shook her off convulsively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me!&rdquo; she breathed; &ldquo;it is all your fault&mdash;he wants me&mdash;needs
+      me&mdash;and, oh, look at me here! Why do you stand there like a ghost? Go
+      away. No, come here&mdash;I want Dr. Kemp; now, at once, he said to have
+      him; send for him, Ruth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On Thursday morning,&rdquo; she managed to answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, now&mdash;I must, must, must have him! You won&rsquo;t go? Then I shall;
+      move aside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, summoning all her strength, strove to hold her in her arms, all to
+      no avail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lie still,&rdquo; she said sternly; &ldquo;I shall go for Dr. Kemp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t; it is night and raining. Oh,&rdquo; she continued, half deliriously,
+      &ldquo;I know I am acting strangely, and he will calm me. Ruth, I want to be
+      calm; don&rsquo;t you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two maids, frightened by the noise, stood in the doorway. Both had
+      their heads covered with shawls; both were suffering with heavy colds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, girls. Stay here with my mother; I am going for the doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Ruth, ain&rsquo;t you afraid? It&rsquo;s a awful night, and black as pitch,
+      and you all alone?&rdquo; asked one, with wide, frightened eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not afraid,&rdquo; said the girl, a great calmness in her voice as she
+      spoke above her mother&rsquo;s sobbing; &ldquo;stay and try to quiet her. I shall not
+      be gone long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flew into her room, drew on her overshoes and mackintosh, grasped a
+      sealskin hood, which she tied securely under her chin, and went out into
+      the howling, raging night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had but a few blocks to go, but under ordinary circumstances the
+      undertaking would have been disagreeable enough. The rain came down in
+      heavy, wild torrents; the wind roared madly, wrapping her skirts around
+      her limbs and making walking almost an impossibility; the darkness was
+      impenetrable save for the sickly, quavering light shed by the few
+      street-lamps, as far apart as angel visitants. Lowering her head and
+      keeping her figure as erect as possible, she struggled bravely on. She met
+      scarcely any one, and those she did meet occasioned her little uneasiness
+      in the flood of unusual emotions that overwhelmed her soul. At any other
+      time the thought of her destination would have blotted out every other
+      perception; now this was but one of many shuddering visions. Trouble was
+      making her hard; life could offer her little that would find her unequal
+      to the test. Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark, imposing
+      mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havocking elements. The
+      rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced it unflinchingly as a
+      small part of her trials. Without a tremor she ran up Dr. Kemp&rsquo;s steps. It
+      was only when she stood with her finger on the bell-button that she
+      realized whom she was about to encounter. Then for the first time she gave
+      one long sob of self-recollection, and pushed the button.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Burke almost immediately opened the door. Ruth had no intention of
+      entering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo; asked Burke, peering out into the darkness. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a divil
+      of a night for any one but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Dr. Kemp in?&rdquo; The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he opened the
+      door wide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, mum,&rdquo; he said apologetically; &ldquo;come in out of the night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Is the doctor in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he grumbled, &ldquo;and I can&rsquo;t stand here with the door open.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Close it, then, but see if he is in, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll lave it open, and ye can come in or stay out according if ye are
+      dry-humored or wet-soled;&rdquo; and he shuffled off. The door was open! Her
+      father had assured her of this once long ago. Inside were warmth and
+      light; outside, in the shadow, were cold and darkness. Here she stood.
+      Would the man never return? Ah, here he came hurrying along; she drew
+      nearer the door; within a half-foot she stood still with locked jaw and
+      swimming senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good woman,&rdquo; said the grave, kindly voice which calmed while it
+      unnerved her, &ldquo;come in and speak to me here. Am I wanted anywhere? Come
+      in, please; the door must be closed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With almost superhuman will she drew herself together and came closer.
+      Seeing the dark, moving figure, he opened the door wide, and she stepped
+      in; then as it closed she faced him, turning up her white, haggard face to
+      his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He recoiled as if stunned, but quickly recovered himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What trouble has brought you to me?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mother,&rdquo; she replied in a low, stifled voice, adding almost instantly
+      in a distant and formal tone, &ldquo;can you come at once? She is suffering with
+      hysteria and calls you incessantly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew himself up and looked at her with a cold, grand air. This girl had
+      been the only woman who had signally affected his life; yet if her only
+      recognition of it was this cold manner, he could command the same.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come,&rdquo; he replied, looking unbendingly, with steely gray eyes,
+      into her white passionless face, framed in its dark hood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She bowed her head&mdash;further words were impossible&mdash;and turned to
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He watched her tugging in blind stupefaction at the strange bolt, but did
+      not move to her assistance. Her head was bent low over the intricate
+      thing; but it was useless,&mdash;it would not move, and she suddenly
+      raised her eyes beseechingly to him; with a great revulsion of feeling he
+      saw that they were swimming in tears. His own lips trembled, and his heart
+      gave a wild leap. Then one of those unaccountable moods that sometimes
+      masters the best swayed him strongly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was alone with him there; he could keep her if he wished. One look at
+      her lovely, beloved face, and his higher manhood asserted itself. He
+      unlatched the door, and still holding it closed, said in a deferential
+      tone,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you not wait till I ring for my carriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather go at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing was left but for him to comply with her wishes; and as she walked
+      out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized a vial from
+      his office, and hurried after her. At this juncture the storm was
+      frightful. Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectually to
+      move on. Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gusts
+      carried his breath away. In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, who
+      was making small progress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you take my arm?&rdquo; he asked quietly. &ldquo;It will help you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew back in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no necessity,&rdquo; he indistinctly heard in the roar of the gale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He kept near enough to her, however, to see her. All along this block of
+      Van Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees; they
+      tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind. A violent gust almost
+      took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly for Dr. Kemp
+      to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back. At the same moment, one of
+      the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash upon them. By a great
+      effort he had turned and, holding her before him, received the greater
+      blow upon his back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you hurt?&rdquo; he asked, bending his head so near her face that his short
+      wet beard brushed her cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, wresting herself from him; &ldquo;I thank you&mdash;but you have
+      hurt yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken,&rdquo; he said abruptly. &ldquo;Take my arm, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not wait for her yea or nay; but drawing her arm through his, he
+      strode on in silence, holding it closely pinioned against his heart. When
+      they reached the house, they were both white and breathless. Nora opened
+      the door for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!&rdquo; she cried, wringing her hands as the doctor
+      threw off his coat and hat; &ldquo;all she does now is to stare at us with her
+      teeth all chattering.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor sprang up three steps at a time, Ruth quickly following.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was in a blaze of light; Mrs. Levice sat up in bed, her large
+      dark eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowy
+      counterpane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp looked like a pillar of strength as he came up to the bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he took her hand in his, she strove to speak; but the sobbing result
+      was painful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None of that!&rdquo; he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders. &ldquo;If you
+      try, you can stop this. Now see, I am holding you. Look at me, and you
+      will understand you must quiet down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He used his well-known power of magnetism. Gradually the quivering
+      shoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and he
+      gently laid her head upon the pillow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go away!&rdquo; she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move from
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed,&rdquo; he replied in a bright, soothing voice; &ldquo;see, I am going to
+      give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in a short
+      time. Now then, open your mouth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Doctor, I wish to speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After you have taken this and rested awhile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you won&rsquo;t go away?&rdquo; she persisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall stay right here.&rdquo; She obediently swallowed the dose; and as he
+      drew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her face
+      relaxed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so strengthening to have you here,&rdquo; she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be more strengthening for you to close your eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, who still stood in her wet clothes, lowered the lights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better change your clothes immediately,&rdquo; said Kemp, in a low tone
+      from his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not look at him, but at his voice she left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Quickly removing her wet garments, she slipped into a loose, dull red
+      gown. As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenly remembered
+      that his feet might be wet. She lit a candle, and going into Louis&rsquo;s room,
+      appropriated a pair of slippers that stood in his closet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now past midnight; but no thought of sleep occurred to her till,
+      entering her mother&rsquo;s room, she perceived in the semi-darkness that the
+      doctor lay back with closed eyes. He was not asleep, however, for he
+      opened his eyes at her light footfall. She looked very beautiful in her
+      unconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness of her
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you put them on?&rdquo; she asked in a hushed voice, holding out the
+      slippers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind,&rdquo; he replied, looking with hungry eyes into her face.
+      Seeing that he did not take them, she placed them on the carpet. The
+      action recalled him to himself, and wishing to detain her, he said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do they belong to a man as big as I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are my cousin&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had half turned to leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; he returned, &ldquo;and will he relish the idea of my standing in his
+      shoes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth&rsquo;s thoughts gave one miserable
+      bound to Arnold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will be pleased to add to your comfort,&rdquo; spoke Mrs. Levice from the
+      bed, thus saving Ruth an answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not need them,&rdquo; said the doctor, turning to her swiftly; &ldquo;and, Mrs.
+      Levice, if you do not go to sleep, I shall leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want Ruth to stay in the room,&rdquo; she murmured petulantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, Mamma,&rdquo; said Ruth, wearily, seating herself in a low,
+      soft-cushioned chair in a remote corner. She knew how to sit perfectly
+      still. It was a peculiar situation,&mdash;the mother, who had been the
+      means of drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and
+      he and she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulf
+      between them, sat there without a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s temples throbbed painfully; she felt weak and tired; toward morning
+      she sank into a heavy sleep. Kemp did not sleep; he kept his face turned
+      from her, trying to quiet his thoughts with the dull lullaby of the rain.
+      But he knew when she slept; his gaze wandered searchingly around the room
+      till it fell upon a slumber-robe thrown across a divan. He arose softly
+      and picked it up; his light step made no sound in the soft carpet. As he
+      came up to Ruth, he saw with an inward groan the change upon her sleeping
+      face. Great, dark shadows lay about her eyes not caused by the curling
+      lashes; her mouth drooped pathetically at the corners; her temples, from
+      which her soft hair was rolled, showed the blue veins; he would have given
+      much to touch her hair with his hand, but he laid the cover over her
+      shoulders without touching her, and tucked it lightly about her knees and
+      feet. Then he went back to his chair. It was five o&rsquo;clock before either
+      mother or daughter opened her eyes; they started up almost simultaneously.
+      Ruth noticed the warm robe about her, and her eyes sped to the doctor. He,
+      however, was speaking to Mrs. Levice, who in the dim light looked pale but
+      calm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel perfectly well,&rdquo; she was saying, &ldquo;and shall get up immediately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the necessity?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;Lie still to-day; it is not bad
+      weather for staying in bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did not Ruth tell you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me?&rdquo; he repeated in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of the cause of this attack?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must. Briefly, my husband has been in New York for the past five
+      weeks; he suffered there with acute pneumonia for a week, told us nothing,
+      but hurried home as soon as possible,&mdash;too soon, I suppose. Day
+      before yesterday my nephew received a letter stating these facts, and,
+      later, a telegram asking him to come to Reno, where he was delayed,
+      feeling too ill to go farther alone. The first I heard of this was last
+      night, when Ruth received this telegram from Louis.&rdquo; She handed it to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Kemp read, an unmistakable gravity settled on his face. As he was
+      folding the paper thoughtfully, Mrs. Levice addressed him again in her
+      unfamiliar, calm voice,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you please explain what he means by your understanding?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I suppose it is expedient for me to tell you at once,&rdquo; he said
+      slowly, reseating himself and pausing as if trying to recall something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Last year,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;probably as early as February, your husband came
+      to me complaining of a cough that annoyed him nights and mornings; he
+      further told me that when he felt it coming, he went to another apartment
+      so as not to disturb you. I examined him, and found he was suffering with
+      the first stages of asthma, and that one of his lungs was slightly
+      diseased already. I treated him and gave him directions for living
+      carefully. You knew nothing of this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; she answered hoarsely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he went on gently, &ldquo;there was no cause for worry; if checked in
+      time, a man may live to second childhood with asthma, and the loss of a
+      small portion of a lung is not necessarily fatal. He knew this, and was
+      mending slowly; I examined him several times and found no increase in the
+      loss of tissue, while he told me the cough was not so troublesome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But for some weeks before he left,&rdquo; said Mrs. Levice, &ldquo;he coughed every
+      morning and night. When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed me
+      out of the idea. How did you find him before he left?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not seen Mr. Levice for some months,&rdquo; he replied gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice eyed him questioningly, but he offered no explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do you think,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;that this asthma made the pneumonia
+      more dangerous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of her
+      voice and aspect remained unbroken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;for telling me so candidly. Then will you be here
+      to-morrow morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall manage to meet him at Oakland with a closed carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I go with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me; but it will be best for you to receive him quietly at home.
+      There must be nothing whatever to disturb him. Have all ready, especially
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And now, Doctor, let me thank you for your
+      kindness to me;&rdquo; she held out both hands. &ldquo;Will you let Ruth show you to a
+      room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you; it is impossible,&rdquo; he replied, looking at his watch. &ldquo;I
+      shall hurry home now. Good-morning, Mrs. Levice. There may be small cause
+      for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the more you can
+      help him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned from her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth, will you see the doctor to the door?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She followed him down the broad staircase, as in former days, but with a
+      difference. Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, and they
+      had descended together, talking pleasantly. Now not a word was said till
+      he had put on his heavy outer coat. As he laid his hand on the knob, Ruth
+      spoke,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there anything I can do for my father, do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She started as he turned a tired, haggard face to hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can think of nothing but to have his bed in readiness and complete
+      quiet about the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and&mdash;and do you think there is any danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! at least, I hope not. I shall be able to tell better when I see
+      him. Is there anything I can do for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the light of
+      his tender eyes. He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed it quickly
+      behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco this
+      Thursday morning. After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a day in
+      spring. Young girls tripped forth &ldquo;in their figures,&rdquo; as the French have
+      it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genial wooing of
+      sunbeams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion. Neither Ruth nor her mother
+      felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her position in her
+      husband&rsquo;s room, Ruth wandered downstairs. The silence seemed vocal with
+      her fears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I tell ye&rsquo;s two,&rdquo; remarked the cook as her young mistress passed from
+      the kitchen, &ldquo;that darter and father is more than kin, they is soul-kin,
+      if ye know what that means; an&rsquo; the boss&rsquo;s girl do love him more&rsquo;n seven
+      times seven children which such a man-angel should &lsquo;a&rsquo; had.&rdquo; For the
+      &ldquo;boss&rdquo; was to those who served him &ldquo;little lower than the angels;&rdquo; and
+      their prayers the night before had held an eloquent appeal for his
+      welfare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, with her face against the window, watched in sickening anxiety. She
+      knew they were not to be expected for some time, but it was better to
+      stand here than in the fear-haunted background.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stood
+      before the gate. She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned for one
+      second blindly against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell my mother they have come,&rdquo; she gasped to the maid, who had entered
+      the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she looked out. Two men were carrying one between them up the walk.
+      As they came nearer, she saw how it was. That bundled-up figure was her
+      father&rsquo;s; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father&rsquo;s; but as
+      they carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, panting
+      breaths came to her, were they her father&rsquo;s too? No need, Ruth, to rush
+      forward and vainly implore some power to tear from yourself the
+      respiration withheld from him. Air, air! So, man, so; one step more and
+      then relief. Ah!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused in agony at the foot of the stairs as the closing door shut out
+      the dreadful sound. We never value our blessings till we have lost them;
+      who thinks it a boon to be able to breathe without thinking of the action?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not seen her; his eyes had been closed as if in exhaustion as they
+      gently helped him along, and she had understood at once that the only
+      thing to be thought of was, by some manner of means, to remove the choking
+      obstacle from his lungs. Oh, to be able in her young strength to hold the
+      weak, loved form in her arms and breathe into him her overflowing
+      life-breath! She walked upstairs presently; he would be expecting her. As
+      she reached the upper landing, Kemp came from the room, closing the door
+      behind him. His bearing revealed a gravity she had never witnessed before.
+      In his tightly buttoned morning-suit, with the small white tie at his
+      throat, he might have been officiating at some solemn ceremonial. He stood
+      still as Ruth confronted him at the head of the stairs, and met her
+      lovely, miserable eyes with a look of sympathy. She essayed to speak, but
+      succeeded only in gazing at him in speechless entreaty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; he responded to her silent appeal; &ldquo;you were shocked at
+      what you heard: it was the asthma that has completely overpowered him. His
+      illness has made him extremely weak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you think&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must wait till he has rested; the trip was severe for one in his
+      condition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me the truth, please, with no reservations; is there danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eager, abrupt questions told clearly what she suffered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has never had any serious illness; if the asthma has not overleaped
+      itself, we have much to hope for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The intended consolation conveyed a contrary admission which she
+      immediately grasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That means&mdash;the worst,&rdquo; she said, her clasped fingers speaking the
+      language of despair. &ldquo;Oh, Doctor, you who know so much, can&rsquo;t you help
+      him? Think, think of everything; there must be something! Only do your
+      best, do your utmost; you will, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His deep, grave eyes answered her silently as he took both her little
+      clasped hands in his one strong one, saying simply,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me, but only so far as lies within my human power. He is somewhat
+      eased, and asks for you. Look at your mother: she is surpassing herself;
+      if your love for him can achieve one half such a conquest, you will but be
+      making good your inheritance. I shall be in again at one, and will send
+      some medicines up at once.&rdquo; He ended in his usual businesslike tone, and
+      walked hastily downstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was perfect quiet in the room as Ruth entered. Propped high by many
+      pillows, Jules Levice lay in his bed; his wife&rsquo;s arm was about him; his
+      head rested on her bosom; with her one disengaged hand she smoothed his
+      white hair. Never was the difference between them more marked than now,
+      when her beautiful face shone above his, which had the touch of the
+      destroyer already upon it; never was the love between them more marked
+      than now, when he leaned in his weakness upon her who had never failed him
+      in all their wedded years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes were half closed as if in rest; but he heard her enter, and Mrs.
+      Levice felt the tremor that thrilled him as Ruth approached.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The softly whispered love-name of old made her tremble; she smiled through
+      her tears, but when his feeble arms strove to draw her to him, she
+      stooped, and laying them about her neck, placed her cheek upon his. For
+      some minutes these three remained knit in a close embrace; love, strong
+      and tender, spoke and answered in that silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is good to be at home,&rdquo; he said, speaking with difficulty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not home without you, dear,&rdquo; murmured his wife, laying her lips
+      softly upon his forehead. Ruth, kneeling beside the bed, noticed how
+      loosely the dark signet-ring he wore hung upon his slender finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look ill, my Ruth,&rdquo; he said, after a pause. &ldquo;Lay my head down, Esther
+      love; you must be tired. Sit before me, dear, I want to see your two faces
+      together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His gaunt eyes flitted from one to the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a fair picture to take with one,&rdquo; he whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To keep with one,&rdquo; softly trembled his wife&rsquo;s voice; his eyes met hers in
+      a commiserating smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly he started up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth,&rdquo; he gasped, &ldquo;will you go to Louis? He must be worn out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She left the room hurriedly. Her faint knock was not immediately answered,
+      and she called softly; receiving no reply, she turned the knob, which
+      yielded to her hand. Sunbeams danced merrily about the room of the young
+      man, who sat in their light in a dejected attitude. He evidently had made
+      no change in his toilet; and as Ruth stood unnoticed beside him, her eyes
+      wandered over his gray, unshaven face, travel-stained and weary to a
+      degree. She laid her hand upon his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Louis,&rdquo; she called gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook under her touch, but made no further sign that he knew of her
+      presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be so tired, Louis,&rdquo; she continued sympathetically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It may have been the words, it may have been the tone, it may have been
+      that she touched some hidden thought, for suddenly, without premonition,
+      his breast heaved, and he sobbed heavily as only a man can sob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started back in pain. That such emotion could so unstring Louis Arnold
+      was a marvel. It did not last long; and as he rose from his chair he spoke
+      in his accustomed, quiet tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive my unmanliness,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;it was kind of you to come to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look very ill, Louis; can&rsquo;t I bring you something to refresh you, or
+      will you lie down?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall see; is there anything you wish to ask me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause he said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not be hopeless; he is in good hands, and everything that can be
+      done will be done. Is he resting now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; if to breathe like that is to rest. Oh, Louis, when I think how for
+      months he has suffered alone, it almost drives me crazy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why think of it, then? Or, if you must, remember that in his surpassing
+      unselfishness he saved you much anxiety; for you could not have helped
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not with our sympathy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not him, Ruth; to know that you suffered for him was&mdash;would have
+      been his crowning sorrow. Is there anything I can do now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, only think of yourself for a moment; perhaps you can rest a little,
+      for you need it, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A flame of color burned in his cheek at the unusual endearment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall bring you a cup of tea presently,&rdquo; she said as she left him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The morning passed into afternoon. Silence hung upon the house. A card had
+      been pinned under the door-bell; and the many friends, who in the short
+      time since the sick man&rsquo;s arrival had heard of his illness, dropped in
+      quietly and left as they came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Kemp came in after luncheon. Mr. Levice was sleeping,&mdash;in all
+      truth, one could say easily, but the doctor counted much from the rest. He
+      expected Dr. H&mdash;&mdash;- for a consultation. This he had done as a
+      voucher and a sort of comforting assurance that nothing would be left
+      undone. Dr. H&mdash;&mdash;- came in blandly; he went out gravely. There
+      was little to be said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp walked thoughtfully upstairs after his colleague had left, and went
+      straight to Arnold&rsquo;s room. The freedom of the house was his; he seemed to
+      have established himself here simply through his earnestness and devotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Arnold,&rdquo; he said to the Frenchman, who quickly rose from his desk, &ldquo;I
+      want you to prepare your aunt and your cousin for the worst. You know
+      this; but if he should have a spell of coughing, the end might be sudden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A cold pallor overspread Louis&rsquo;s face at the confirmation of his secret
+      fears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed slightly and cleared his throat before answering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will be no necessity,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;my uncle intends doing so
+      himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must not hasten it by excitement,&rdquo; said Kemp, moving toward the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is unavoidable,&rdquo; returned Arnold. &ldquo;You must know he had an object in
+      hurrying home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not know; but I shall prevent any unnecessary effort to speak. If
+      you can do this for him, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you know what it is in detail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then for his sake&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And for the others, he must be allowed to speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp regarded him steadily, wondering wherein lay the impression of
+      concealed power which emanated from him. He left the room without another
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. H&mdash;&mdash;- must have gone to school with you,&rdquo; panted Levice,
+      as Dr. Kemp entered; &ldquo;even his eyes have been educated to express the same
+      feeling; except for a little&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there,&rdquo; quieted Kemp; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t exhaust yourself. Miss Levice, that
+      fan, please. A little higher? How&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not go, Doctor,&rdquo; he said feebly; &ldquo;I have something to say, to do, and
+      you&mdash;I want you&mdash;give me something&mdash;I must say it now.
+      Esther, where are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Levice, you must not talk now,&rdquo; put in Kemp, authoritatively;
+      &ldquo;whatever you have to say will last till morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you. Now go to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice followed him to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You spoke just now of a nurse,&rdquo; she said through her pale lips; &ldquo;I shall
+      not want one: I alone can nurse him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is much required; I doubt if you are strong enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am strong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He clasped her hand in assent; he could not deny her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall come in and stay with you to-night,&rdquo; he said simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You. Why should you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I too love him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mouth trembled and the lines of her face quivered, but she drew her
+      hand quickly over it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp gave one sharp glance over to the bed; Ruth had laid her head beside
+      her father&rsquo;s and held his hand. In such a house, in every Jewish house,
+      one finds the best nurses in the family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Shafts of pale sunlight darted into the room and rested on Mr. Levice&rsquo;s
+      hair, covering it with a silver glory,&mdash;they trailed along the silken
+      coverlet, but stopped there; one little beam strayed slowly, and almost as
+      if with intention, toward Arnold, seated near the foot of the bed. Ruth,
+      lovely in her pallor, sat near him; Mrs. Levice, on the other side of the
+      bed, leaned back in her chair placed close to her husband&rsquo;s pillow; more
+      remote, though inadvertently so, sat Dr. Kemp. It was by Mr. Levice&rsquo;s
+      desire that these four had assembled here.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was sitting up, supported by many pillows; his face was hollow and
+      colorless; his hands lay listlessly upon the counterpane. No one touches
+      him; bathed in sunlight, as he was, the others seemed in shadow. When he
+      spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, but it was distinctly audible to
+      the four intent listeners; only the clock seemed to accompany his staccato
+      speech, running a race, as it were, with his failing strength.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a beautiful world,&rdquo; he said dreamily, &ldquo;a very beautiful world;&rdquo; the
+      sunbeams kissed his pale hands as if thanking him; no one stirred, letting
+      the old man take his time. Finally he realized that all were waiting for
+      him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Kemp,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;I have something to say to you,&mdash;to you in
+      particular, and to my daughter Ruth. My wife and nephew know in brief what
+      I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful event that
+      happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see the
+      necessity, for my reverting to it at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Every one&rsquo;s eyes rested upon him,&mdash;that is, all but Arnold&rsquo;s, which
+      seemed holding some secret communion with the cupids on the ceiling,&mdash;and
+      the look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth&rsquo;s face was unnoticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In all my long, diversified life,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;I had never suffered as I
+      did after she told me her decision,&mdash;for in all those years no one
+      had ever been made to suffer through me; that is, so far as I knew.
+      Unconsciously, or in anger, I may have hurt many, but never, as in this
+      case, with knowledge aforethought,&mdash;when the blow fell upon my own
+      child. You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave no
+      thought to you. She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands held
+      out, and with a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, &lsquo;Father, you are right;
+      I could not be happy with this man.&rsquo; At the moment I believed her,
+      thinking she had adopted my views; but with all her bravery, her real
+      feelings conquered her, and I saw. Not that she had spoken untruly, but
+      she had implied the truth only in part, I knew my child loved me, and she
+      meant honestly that my pain would rob her of perfect happiness with you,&mdash;my
+      pain would form an eclipse strong enough to darken everything. Do you
+      think this knowledge made me glad or proud? Do you know how love, that in
+      the withholding justifies itself, suffers from the pain inflicted? But I
+      said, &lsquo;After all, it is as I think; she will thank me for it some day.&rsquo; I
+      was not altogether selfish, please remember. Then, as I saw her silent
+      wrestling, came distrust of myself; I remembered I was pitted against two,
+      younger and no more fallible than myself. As soon as doubt of myself
+      attacked me, I strove to look on the other side; I strove to rid myself of
+      the old prejudices, the old superstitions, the old narrowness of faith; it
+      was useless,&mdash;I was too old, and my prejudices had become part of me.
+      It was in this state of perturbation that I had gone one day up to the top
+      floor of the Palace Hotel. Thank you, Doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter had quietly risen and administered a stimulant. As he resumed
+      his seat, Levice continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was seated at a window overlooking Market Street. Below me surged a
+      black mass of crowding, jostling, hurrying beings, so far removed they
+      seemed like little dots, each as large and no larger than his fellows.
+      Above them stretched the same blue arch of heaven, they breathed the same
+      air, trod in each other&rsquo;s footsteps; and yet I knew they were all so
+      different,&mdash;ignorance walked with enlightenment, vice with virtue,
+      rich with poor, low with high,&mdash;but I felt, poised thus above them,
+      that they were creatures of the same God. Go once thus, and you will
+      understand the feeling. And so I judged these aliens. Which was greater;
+      which was less? This one, who from birth and inheritance is able to stand
+      the equal of any one, or this one, who through birth and inheritance
+      blinks blindly at the good and beautiful? Character and circumstance are
+      not altogether of our own making; they are, to a great degree, results of
+      inherited tendencies over which we have no control,&mdash;accidents of
+      birthplace, in the choosing of which we had no voice. The high in the
+      world do not shine altogether by their own light, not do the lowly grovel
+      altogether in their own debasement,&mdash;I felt the excuse for humanity.
+      I was overwhelmed with one feeling,&mdash;only God can weigh such
+      circumstantial evidence; we, in our little knowledge of results, pronounce
+      sentence, but final judgment is reserved for a higher court, that sees the
+      cross-purposes in which we are blindly caught. So with everything. Below
+      me prayed Christian and Jew, Mohammedan and Brahmin, idolater and
+      agnostic. Why was one man different in this way from his fellows? Because
+      he was born so, because his parents were so, because he was bred so,
+      because it seemed natural and convenient to remain so,&mdash;custom and
+      environment had made his religion. Because Jesus Christ dared to attack
+      their existing customs and beliefs, the Jews, then powerful, first
+      reviled, then feared, then slew him; because the Jews could not honestly
+      say, &lsquo;I believe this man to be a God,&rsquo; they were hurled from their
+      eminence and dragged, living, for centuries in the dust. And yet why?
+      Because God withheld and still withholds from this little band the power
+      of believing in Christ as his son. Christians call this a wilful weakness;
+      Jews call it strength. After all, who is to be praised or blamed for it?
+      God. Then instead of beating the Jew, and instead of sneering at the
+      Christian, let each pity the other; because one, I know not which, is
+      weak, and because the other, I know not which, is strong. I left the
+      building; I came upon the street. I felt like saluting every one as my
+      brother. A little ragged child touched me, and as I laid my hand upon her
+      curly head, the thrill of humanity shot through me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not until I went to New York that the feelings I then experienced
+      took on a definite shape. There, removed from my old haunts, I wandered
+      alone when I could. Then I thought of you, my friend, of you, my child,
+      and beside you I was pitiful,&mdash;pitiful, because in my narrowness I
+      had thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishing restriction. I
+      resolved to be practical; I have been accused of being a dreamer. I
+      grasped your two images before me and drew parallels. Socially each was as
+      high as the other. Mentally the woman was as strong in her sphere as the
+      man was in his. Physically both were perfect types of pure, healthy blood.
+      Morally both were irreproachable. Religiously each held a broad love for
+      God and man. I stood convicted; I was in the position of a blind fool who,
+      with a beautiful picture before him, fastens his critical, condemning gaze
+      upon a rusting nail in the rusting wall behind,&mdash;a nail even now
+      loosened, and which in another generation will be displaced. Yet what was
+      I to do? Come back and tell you that I had been needlessly cruel? What
+      would that avail? True, I might make you believe that I no longer thought
+      marriage between you wrong; but that would not remove the fact that the
+      world, which so easily makes us happy or otherwise, did not see as I saw.
+      In this vortex I was stricken ill. All the while I wanted to hasten to
+      you, to tell you how it was with me, and it seemed as if I never could get
+      to you. &lsquo;Is this Nemesis,&rsquo; I thought, &lsquo;or divine interposition?&rsquo; So I
+      struggled till Louis came. Then all was easier. I told him everything and
+      said, &lsquo;Louis, what shall I do?&rsquo; &lsquo;only this,&rsquo; he answered simply: &lsquo;tell
+      them that their happy marriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the
+      world will be as nothing to these two who love each other.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the coverlet
+      and gave a leap upon Louis&rsquo;s shoulder like an angle&rsquo;s finger, but his gaze
+      remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling. Ruth had covered her face
+      with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with her eyes on Louis.
+      Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting Levice&rsquo;s eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe&mdash;and my wife believes,&rdquo; said Levice, heavily, as if the
+      words were so many burdens, &ldquo;that our child will be happy only as your
+      wife, and that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this
+      happiness. Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter.
+      Ruth!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Little one,&rdquo; he faltered, &ldquo;I have been very cruel in my ignorance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not think of this, Father,&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must,&rdquo; he said, taking her hand in his. &ldquo;Kemp, your hand, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as Kemp&rsquo;s
+      large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his head,
+      kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is one thing more,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;At the utmost I have but a few days
+      to live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my Ruth, as
+      I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may be permitted
+      sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a good girl, and now
+      I am going to ask you to do one thing more&mdash;you also, Doctor. Will
+      you be married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless your new life?
+      Will you let me see this? And listen,&mdash;will you let the world know
+      that you were married with my sanction, and did not have to wait till the
+      old man was dead? Will you do this for me, my dear ones?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you, Ruth?&rdquo; asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father&rsquo;s eager eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will,&rdquo; she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room
+      made it audible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always doing things for her ugly old father,&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;this time
+      giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hush, my darling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would like
+      to have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; he decided, noting with a pang the pale, weary face of
+      Levice; &ldquo;we will have it all as quiet as possible. You must rest now, and
+      leave everything to me. Would you prefer Dr. Stephens or a justice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Either. Dr. Stephens is a good man, whom I know, however; and one good
+      man with the legal right is as good as another to marry you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was little more said then. Kemp turned to Mrs. Levice and raised her
+      hand to his lips. Arnold confronted him with a pale, smiling face; the two
+      men wrung each other&rsquo;s hands, passing out together immediately after.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXVI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice. The
+      latter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head lay
+      back among the pillows as if the support were grateful. Still his eager
+      eyes were keenly fastened upon the close-lipped mouth and broad, speaking
+      brow of the minister who spoke so quietly and pleasantly. Kemp, looking
+      pale and handsome, answered fitfully when appealed to, and kept an
+      expectant eye upon the door. When Ruth entered, he went forward to meet
+      her, drawing her arm through his. They had had no word together, no
+      meeting of any kind but right here in the morning; and now, as she walked
+      toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes was all for
+      her father. Thought could hold no rival for him that day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens,&rdquo; said Kemp, presenting them. A swift
+      look of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman&rsquo;s beetle-brows as
+      he bent over her hand. Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughter of
+      little Jules Levice? Where did she get that pure Madonna face, that regal
+      bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth? The explanation was sufficient
+      when Mrs. Levice entered. They stood talking, not much, but in that
+      wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking. They were waiting
+      for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of pale heliotropes. He
+      always looked well and in character when dressed for some social event; it
+      was as if he were made for this style of dress, not the style for him. The
+      delicate pink of his cheeks looked more like the damask skin of a young
+      girl than ever; his eyes, however, behind their glasses, were veiled. As
+      he handed Ruth the flowers, he said,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked the doctor to allow me to give you these. Will you hold them with
+      my love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are both very dear to me,&rdquo; she replied, raising the flowers to her
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was being
+      performed. It was a striking picture, and one not likely to be forgotten.
+      Levice&rsquo;s eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as he looked at his
+      daughter,&mdash;for never had she looked as to-day in her simple white
+      gown, her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream; standing next to
+      Kemp, the well-mated forms were noticeable. Even Arnold, with his heart
+      like a crushed ball of lead, acknowledged it in bitter resignation. For
+      him the scene was one of those silent, purgatorial moments that are
+      approached with senses steeled and thought held in a vice. To the others
+      it passed, as if it had happened in a dream. Even when Kemp stooped and
+      pressed his lips for the first time upon his wife&rsquo;s, the real meaning of
+      what had taken place seemed far away to Ruth; the present held but one
+      thing in prominence,&mdash;the pale face upon the pillow. She felt her
+      mother&rsquo;s arms around her; she knew that Louis had raised her hand to his
+      lips, that she had drawn his head down and kissed him, that Dr. Kemp was
+      standing silently beside her, that the minister had spoken some gravely
+      pleasant words; but all the while she wanted to tear herself away from it
+      all and fold that eager, loving, dying face close to hers. She was allowed
+      to do so finally; and when she was drawn into the outstretched arms, there
+      was only the long silence of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp had left the room with Dr. Stephens, having a further favor to
+      intrust to him. The short announcement of this marriage, which Dr.
+      Stephens gave for insertion in the evening papers, created a world of
+      talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Kemp re-entered, Levice called him to him, holding out his hand. The
+      doctor grasped it in that firm clasp which was always a tonic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you kneel?&rdquo; asked Levice; Kemp knelt beside his wife, and the old
+      father blessed them in the words that held a double solemnity now:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think if you don&rsquo;t mind, dear, I shall close my eyes now,&rdquo; he said as
+      they arose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth moved about, closing the blinds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t close out all the sun,&rdquo; said her father; &ldquo;I like it,&mdash;it is an
+      old friend. After all, I don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;ll sleep; let me lie here and look
+      at you all awhile. Louis, my boy, must you go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; he replied, turning back from the door and gliding into a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you; and now don&rsquo;t think of me. Go on talking; it will be a
+      foretaste of something better to lie here and listen. Esther, are you
+      cold? I felt a shudder go through your hand, love. Ruth, give your mother
+      a shawl; don&rsquo;t forget that sometimes some one should see that your mother
+      is not cold. Just talk, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So they talked,&mdash;that is, the men did. Their grave, deep voices and
+      the heavily breathing of the invalid were the only sounds in the room.
+      Finally, as the twilight stole in, it was quite still. Levice had dropped
+      into a sort of stupor. Kemp arose then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be back presently,&rdquo; he said, addressing Mrs. Levice, who started
+      perceptibly as he spoke. &ldquo;I have some few directions to give to my man
+      that I entirely forgot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could not we send some one? You must not stay away now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall return immediately. Mr. Levice does not need me while he sleeps,
+      and these instructions are important. Don&rsquo;t stir, Arnold; I know my way
+      out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless Arnold accompanied him to the door. Ruth gave little heed to
+      their movements. Her agitated heart had grasped the fact that the lines
+      upon her father&rsquo;s face had grown weaker and paler, his breathing shorter
+      and more rasping; when she passed him and touched his hand, it seemed cold
+      and lifeless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At nine the doctor came in again; the only appreciable difference in his
+      going or coming was that no one rose or made any formal remarks. He went
+      up to the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping head. Mrs. Levice moved
+      her chair slightly as he seated himself on the edge of the bed and took
+      Levice&rsquo;s hand. Ruth, watching him with wide, distended eyes, thought he
+      would never drop it. Her senses, sharpened by suffering, read every change
+      on his face. As he withdrew his hand, she gave one long, involuntary moan.
+      He turned quickly to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he asked, his grave eyes scanning her anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; she responded. It was the first word she had spoken to him
+      since the afternoon ceremony. He turned back to Levice, lowering his ear
+      to his chest. After a faint, almost imperceptible pause he arose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you had all better lie down,&rdquo; he said softly. &ldquo;I shall sit with
+      him, and you all need rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could not rest,&rdquo; said Mrs. Levice; &ldquo;this chair is all I require.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you would lie on the couch here,&rdquo; he urged, &ldquo;you would find the
+      position easier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! I could not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at Ruth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall go by and by,&rdquo; she answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arnold had long since gone out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth&rsquo;s by and by stretched on interminably. Kemp took up the &ldquo;Argonaut&rdquo;
+       that lay folded on the table. He did not read much, his eyes straying from
+      the printed page before him to the &ldquo;finis&rdquo; writing itself slowly on Jules
+      Levice&rsquo;s face, and thence to Ruth&rsquo;s pale profile; she was crying,&mdash;so
+      quietly, though, that but for the visible tears an onlooker might not have
+      known it; she herself did not,&mdash;her heart was silently overflowing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Toward morning Levice suddenly sprang up in bed and made as if to leap
+      upon the floor. Kemp&rsquo;s quick, strong hand held him back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; he asked. Mrs. Levice stood instantly beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; gasped Levice, his eyes falling upon her, &ldquo;I wanted to get home; but
+      it is all right now. Is the child in bed, Esther?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here she is; lie still, Jules; you know you are ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not now. Ah, Kemp, I can get up now; I am quite well, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till morning,&rdquo; he resisted, humoring this inevitable idiosyncrasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is morning now; and I feel so light and well. Open the shutters,
+      Ruth; see, Esther; a beautiful day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was quite dark with the darkness that immediately precedes dawn; the
+      windows were bespangled with the distillations of the night, which gleamed
+      as the light fell on them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice seated herself beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very early, Jules,&rdquo; she said, smiling with hope, not knowing that
+      this deceptive feeling was but the rose-flush of the sinking sun; &ldquo;but if
+      you feel well when day breaks you can get up, can&rsquo;t he Doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Levice lay back with closed eyes for some minutes. A quivering smile
+      crossed his face and his eyes opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you singing that song just now, Ruth, my angel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What son, Father dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&mdash;&lsquo;Adieu,&mdash;adieu&mdash;pays&mdash;amours&rsquo;&mdash;we sang it&mdash;you
+      know&mdash;when we left home together&mdash;my mother said&mdash;I was too
+      small&mdash;too small&mdash;and&mdash;too&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth looked around wildly for Kemp. He had left the room; she must go for
+      him. As she came into the hall, she saw him and Louis hurriedly advancing
+      up the corridor. Seeing her, they reached her side in a breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go,&rdquo; she whispered through pale lips; &ldquo;he is breathing with that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp laid his hand upon her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay here a second; it will be quite peaceful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him in agony and walked blindly in after Louis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was lying as they had left him, with Mrs. Levice&rsquo;s hand in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep tight hold, darling,&rdquo; the rattling voice was saying. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t take it
+      off till&mdash;another takes it&mdash;it will not be hard then.&rdquo; Suddenly
+      he saw Louis standing pale and straight at the foot of the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good boy,&rdquo; he faltered, &ldquo;my good boy, God will bless&mdash;&rdquo; His eyes
+      closed again; paler and paler grew his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father!&rdquo; cried Ruth in agony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked toward her smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sweetest word,&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;it was&mdash;my glory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence. A soul is passing; a simple, loving soul, giving no trouble in
+      its passage; dropping the toils, expanding with infinity. Not utterly
+      gone; immortality is assured us in the hearts that have touched ours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence. A shadow falls, and Jules Levice&rsquo;s work is done; and the first
+      sunbeams crept about him, lay at his feet a moment, touched the quiet
+      hands, fell on the head like a benediction, and rested there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter XXVII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you would be quiet at this hour,&rdquo; said Rose Delano, seating
+      herself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening after the
+      funeral. They looked so different even in the waning light,&mdash;Ruth in
+      soft black, her white face shining like a lily above her sombre gown,
+      Rose, like a bright firefly, perched on a cricket, her cheeks rosy, her
+      eyes sparkling from walking against the sharp, cold wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are always quiet now,&rdquo; she answered softly; &ldquo;friends come and go, but
+      we are very quiet. It does me good to see you, Rosebud.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it?&rdquo; her sweet eyes smiled happily. &ldquo;I was longing to drop in if
+      only to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where to
+      find you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, where could I be but here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought possibly you had removed to your husband&rsquo;s home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a second Ruth looked at her wonderingly; then the slow rich color
+      mounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was one rosy
+      cloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have stayed right on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw the doctor to-day,&rdquo; she chatted. &ldquo;He looks pale; is he too busy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&mdash;that is, I suppose so. How are the lessons, Rose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything is improving wonderfully; I am so happy, dear Mrs. Kemp, and
+      what I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, I
+      pray, fall on you two who have been so much to me. Miss Gwynne told me
+      that to do good was your birthright. She said that the funeral, with its
+      vast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippled of
+      all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those who
+      thought they knew him best. You should feel very proud with such sweet
+      memories.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented Ruth, her eyes quickly suffused with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat quietly thus for some time, till Rose, rising from her cricket,
+      kissed her friend silently and departed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The waning light fell softly through the lace curtains, printing quaint
+      arabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a rich
+      yellow light. A carriage rolled up in front of the house. Dr. Kemp handed
+      the reins to his man and alighted. He walked slowly up to the door. It was
+      very still about the house in the evening twilight. He pushed his hat back
+      on his head and looked up at the clear blue sky, as if the keen breeze
+      were pleasant to his temples. Then with a quick motion, as though
+      recalling his thoughts, he turned and rang the bell. The latchkey of the
+      householder was not his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth, sitting in the shadows, had scarcely heard the ring. She was
+      absorbed in a new train of thought. Rose Delano was the first one who had
+      clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married. She
+      had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, looking at her
+      grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would have called for
+      congratulation. Rose, who knew only these two, naturally dwelt on their
+      changed relations. Her husband! Her dormant love gave an exultant bound.
+      Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; she sprang to her feet; the
+      door opened, and he came in. He saw her standing faintly outlined in the
+      dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening,&rdquo; he said, coming slowly toward her with extended hand;
+      &ldquo;have you been quite well to-day?&rdquo; He felt her fingers tremble in his
+      close clasp, and let them fall slowly. &ldquo;Bob sent you these early violets.
+      Shall I light the gas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned from her and rapidly filled the room with light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is your mother?&rdquo; he asked, turning toward her again. Her face was
+      hidden in the violets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upstairs with Louis. They had something to arrange. Did you wish to see
+      her?&rdquo; To judge from Ruth&rsquo;s manner, Kemp might have been a visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;If you will sit down, we can talk quietly till they
+      come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in another
+      before her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face. The
+      faraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad days had
+      been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong will every
+      impulse for any closer recognition. But this new look,&mdash;what did it
+      mean? In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen to his
+      own cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day,&rdquo; he observed; &ldquo;shall I
+      tell it to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it will not tire you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see the
+      look of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection. &ldquo;I was
+      coming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached the foot,
+      when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with an eager light
+      in his eyes. &lsquo;Aren&rsquo;t you Dr. Kemp?&rsquo; he asked breathlessly, like one who
+      had been running. I recollected him the instant he raised his hat from his
+      nimbus of golden hair. &lsquo;Yes; and you are Will Tyrrell,&rsquo; I answered
+      promptly. &lsquo;Why, how did you remember?&rsquo; he asked in surprise; &lsquo;you saw me
+      only once.&rsquo; &lsquo;Never mind; I remember that night,&rsquo; I answered. &lsquo;How is that
+      baby sister of yours?&rsquo; &lsquo;Oh, she&rsquo;s all right,&rsquo; he replied dismissing the
+      subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers. &lsquo;I say, do you ever see
+      Miss Levice nowadays?&rsquo; I looked at him with a half-smile, not knowing
+      whether to set him right or not, when he finally blurted out, &lsquo;She&rsquo;s the
+      finest girl I ever met. Do you know her well, Doctor?&rsquo; &lsquo;Well,&rsquo; I answered,
+      &lsquo;I know her slightly,&mdash;she is my wife.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had told the little incident brightly; but as he came to the end, his
+      voice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyes
+      sought hers. Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said you were my wife,&rdquo; he repeated softly, leaning forward, his hands
+      grasping the chair-arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what,&rdquo; asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice,&mdash;&ldquo;what
+      did Will say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who cared?&rdquo; he asked, quickly moving closer to her; &ldquo;do you?&rdquo; He caught
+      her hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingers
+      with hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ruth,&rdquo; he asked below his breath, &ldquo;have you forgotten entirely what we
+      are to each other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was such a cruel lover&rsquo;s act to make her face him thus, her bosom
+      panting, her face changing from white to red and from red to white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you, sweet love?&rdquo; he insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she whispered, trying to turn her head from him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With an irrepressible movement she sprang up, pushing his hand from hers.
+      He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fear
+      overpowering him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; he said quietly, &ldquo;that you no longer love me,&mdash;say it now
+      and have it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried in exquisite pain, &ldquo;why do you tantalize me so&mdash;can&rsquo;t
+      you see that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drew
+      her to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down. Mrs. Levice entered first
+      and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, saw too&mdash;nothing
+      but Ruth standing encircled by her husband&rsquo;s arm; her lovely face smiled
+      into his, which looked down at her with an expression that drove every
+      drop of blood from Arnold&rsquo;s face. For a moment they were unseen; but when
+      Ruth, who was the first to feel their presence, started from Kemp as if
+      she had committed a crime, Arnold came forward entirely at his ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kemp met Mrs. Levice with outstretched hands and smiling eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening, Mother,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;we had just been speaking of you.&rdquo; Mrs.
+      Levice looked into his deep, tender eyes, and raising her arm, drew his
+      head down and kissed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it with shy,
+      sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her. Sorrow had
+      softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, she wooed
+      everybody by her manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What were you saying of me?&rdquo; she asked, keeping Ruth&rsquo;s hand in hers and
+      looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his face radiant
+      with gladness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great house
+      to our little one, till we find something better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his back half
+      turned, looking over a book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now,&rdquo; she said, her voice
+      trembling slightly; &ldquo;but I never could leave this house to strangers,&mdash;every
+      room is too full of old associations, and sweet memories of him. Louis
+      wants me to go down the coast with him soon, stopping for a month or so at
+      Coronado. Go to your cottage meanwhile by yourselves; even I should be an
+      intruder. There, Ruth, don&rsquo;t I know? And when we come back, we shall see.
+      It is all settled, isn&rsquo;t it, Louis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned around then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I feel that I need a change of scene, and I should like to have her
+      with me; you do not need her now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ruth looked at his careworn face, and said with tender solicitude,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, Louis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so it was decided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Other Things Being Equal
+
+Author: Emma Wolf
+
+Posting Date: October 28, 2008 [EBook #1839]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Cantalupo
+
+
+
+
+
+OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL
+
+By Emma Wolf
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+A humming-bird dipped through the air and lit upon the palm-tree just
+below the open window; the long drowsy call of a crowing cock came from
+afar off; the sun spun down in the subdued splendor of a hazy veil. It
+was a dustless, hence an anomalous, summer's afternoon in San Francisco.
+
+Ruth Levice sat near the window, lazily rocking, her long lithe arms
+clasped about her knees, her face a dream of the day. The seasons single
+out their favorite moods: a violet of spring-time woos one, a dusky June
+rose another; to-day the soft, languorous air had, unconsciously to her,
+charmed the girl's waking dream.
+
+So removed was she in spirit from her surroundings that she heard with
+an obvious start a knock at the door. The knock was immediately followed
+by a smiling, plump young woman, sparkling of eye, rosy of cheek, and
+glistening with jewels and silk.
+
+"Here you are, Ruth," she exclaimed, kissing her heartily; whereupon
+she sank into a chair, and threw back her bonnet-strings with an air of
+relief. "I came up here at once when the maid said your mother was out.
+Where is she?"
+
+"Out calling. You look heated, Jennie; let me fan you."
+
+"Thanks. How refreshing! Sandal-wood, is it not? Where is your father?"
+
+"He is writing in the library. Do you wish to see him?"
+
+"Oh, no, no! I must see you alone. I am so glad Aunt Esther is out. Why
+aren't you with her, Ruth? You should not let your mother go off alone."
+
+The young girl laughed in merry surprise.
+
+"Why, Jennie, you forgot that Mamma has been used all her life to going
+out without me; it is only within the last few months that I have been
+her companion."
+
+"I know," replied her visitor, leaning back with a grim expression of
+disapproval, "and I think it the queerest arrangement I ever heard
+of. The idea of a father having the sole care of a daughter up to her
+twenty-first birthday, and then delivering her, like a piece of joint
+property, over to her mother! Oh, I know that according to their lights
+it did not seem absurd, but the very idea of it is contrary to nature.
+Of course we all know that your father was peculiarly fitted to
+undertake your training, and in this way your mother could more easily
+indulge her love of society; but as it is, no wonder she is as jealous
+of your success in her realm as your father was in his; no wonder she
+overdoes things to make up for lost time. How do you like it, Ruth?"
+
+"What?" softly inquired her cousin, slowly waving the dainty fan, while
+a smile lighted up the gravity of her face at this onslaught.
+
+"Going out continually night after night."
+
+"Mamma likes it."
+
+"Cela va sans dire. But, Ruth,--stop fanning a minute, please,--I want
+to know, candidly and seriously, would you mind giving it up?"
+
+"Candidly and seriously, I would do so to-day forever."
+
+"Ye-es; your father's daughter," said Mrs. Lewis, speaking more slowly,
+her bright eyes noting the perfect repose of the young girl's person;
+"and yet you are having some quiet little conquests,--the golden apples
+of your mother's Utopia. But to come to the point, do you realize that
+your mother is very ill?"
+
+"Ill--my mother?" The sudden look of consternation that scattered the
+soft tranquillity of her face must have fully repaid Mrs. Lewis if she
+was aiming at a sensation.
+
+"There, sit down. Don't be alarmed; you know she is out and apparently
+well."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that Aunt Esther is nervous and hysterical. The other day at our
+house she had such an attack of hysteria that I was obliged to call in
+a neighboring doctor. She begged us not to mention it to either of
+you, and then insisted on attending a meeting of some sort. However, I
+thought it over and decided to let you know, as I consider it serious. I
+was afraid to alarm Uncle, so I thought of telling you."
+
+"Thank you, Jennie; I shall speak to Father about it." The young girl's
+tone was quite unagitated; but two pink spots on her usually colorless
+cheeks betrayed her emotion.
+
+"That is right, dear. I hope you will forgive me if I seem meddlesome,
+but Jo and I have noticed it for some time; and your father, by allowing
+this continual gayety, seems to have overlooked what we find so sadly
+apparent. Of course you have an engagement for to-night?"
+
+"Yes; we are going to a reception at the Merrills'."
+
+"Merrill? Christians?" was the sharp reply.
+
+"The name speaks for itself."
+
+"What does possess your parents to mix so much with Christians?"
+
+"Fellow-feeling, I suppose. We all dance and talk alike; and as we do
+not hold services at receptions, wherein lies the difference?"
+
+"There is a difference; and the Christians know it as well as we Jewish
+people. Not only do they know it, but they show it in countless ways;
+and the difference, they think, is all to their credit. For my part, I
+always feel as if they looked down on us, and I should like to prove to
+them how we differ on that point. I have enough courage to let them know
+I consider myself as good as the best of them."
+
+"Is that why you wear diamonds and silk on the street, Jennie?" asked
+Ruth, her serious tones implying no impudence, but carrying a refined
+reproach.
+
+"Hardly. I wear them because I have them and like them. I see no harm in
+wearing what is becoming."
+
+"But don't you think they look aggressive on the street? They attract
+attention; and one hates to be conspicuous. I think they are only in
+place at a gathering of friends of one's own social standing, where they
+do not proclaim one's moneyed value."
+
+"Perhaps," replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier than
+before. "I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so. But I
+scarcely think a little outward show of riches should make others feel
+they are better because they do not care to make a display. Besides, to
+be less personal, I don't think any Christian would care to put himself
+out to meet a Jew of any description."
+
+"Don't you think it would depend a great deal both on Jew and Christian?
+I always have been led to believe that every broad-minded man of
+whatever sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any other
+man. And why should I not move on an equality with my Christian friends?
+We have had the same schooling, speak the same language, read the same
+books, are surrounded by the same elements of home refinement. Probably
+if they had not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased to
+associate with them. I think the secret of it all is in the fact that
+it never occurred to us that the most fastidious could think we were
+anything but the most fastidious; and so we always met any one we
+desired to meet on a level footing. I have a great many pleasant friends
+in the court of your Philistines."
+
+"Possibly. But not having been brought up by your father, I think
+differently, and perhaps am different. Their ways are not my ways; and
+what good can you expect from such association?"
+
+"Why, pleasant companionship. What wouldst thou more?"
+
+"I? Not even that. But tell me, can't you dissuade Aunt Esther from
+going to-night? Tell your father, and let him judge if you had better
+not."
+
+"I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much to
+Father; but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on our
+going to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, although
+Louis is going also. But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, I
+shall tell him immediately, and--"
+
+A blithe voice at the door interrupted her, calling:
+
+"Open the door, Ruth; my hands are full."
+
+She rose hastily, and with a signal of silence to her loquacious cousin,
+opened the door for her mother.
+
+"Ah, Jennie, how are your, dear? But let us inspect this box which Nora
+has just handed me, before we consider you;" and Mrs. Levice softly
+deposited a huge box upon Ruth's lace-enveloped bed.
+
+She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clear
+olive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears. From the
+crown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the picture
+of exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her head
+like a queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more like
+Ruth's older sister than her mother.
+
+"Ruth's gown for this evening," she announced, deftly unfolding the
+wrappings.
+
+"Yellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise.
+
+"Corn-color," corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; "how do you think it
+will suit my girlie?" She continued, shaking out the clinging silken
+crepe.
+
+"Charmingly; but I thought Ruth objected to anything but white."
+
+"So she does; she thinks white keeps her unnoticed among the rest. This
+time, however, my will overrode hers. Eh, Daughter?"
+
+The girl made a low courtesy.
+
+"I am only lady-in-waiting to your Majesty, O Queen," she laughed. She
+had hardly glanced at the gown, being engaged in a silent scrutiny of
+her mother's face.
+
+"And how is my prime minister this afternoon?" Mrs. Levice was drawing
+off her gloves, and Ruth's look of pained discovery passed unnoticed.
+
+"I have not been down since luncheon," she replied.
+
+"What! Then go down at once and bring him up. I must see that he gets
+out of his studiousness and is clothed in festive mind for this evening.
+Come to my sitting-room, Jennie, and we can have a comfortable chat."
+
+Left to herself, Ruth hesitated before going to her father with her
+ill-boding tidings. None knew better than she of the great, silent
+love that bound her parents. As a quiet, observant child, she had often
+questioned wherein could be any sympathy between her father, almost old,
+studious, and reserved, and her beautiful, worldly young mother. But
+as she matured, she became conscious that because of this apparent
+disparity it would have been still stranger had Mrs. Levice not loved
+him with a feeling verging nearer humble adoration than any lower
+passion. It seemed almost a mockery for her to have to tell him he had
+been negligent,--not only a mockery, but a cruelty. However, it had
+to be done, and she was the only one to do it. Having come to this
+conclusion, she ran quickly downstairs, and softly, without knocking,
+opened the library door.
+
+She entered so quietly that Mr. Levice, reading by the window, did
+not glance from his book. She stood a moment regarding the small
+thoughtful-faced, white-haired man.
+
+If one were to judge but by results, Jules Levice would be accounted a
+fortunate man. Nearing the allotted threescore and ten, blessed with
+a loving, beloved wife and this one idolized ewe-lamb, surrounded by
+luxury, in good health, honored, and honorable,--trouble and travail
+seemed to have passed him by. But this scene of human happiness was the
+result of intelligent and unremitting effort. A high state of earthly
+beatitude has seldom been attained without great labor of mind or body
+by ourselves or those akin to us. Jules Levice had been thrown on the
+world when a boy of twelve. He resolved to become happy. Many of us do
+likewise; but we overlook the fact that we are provided with feet, not
+wings, and cannot fly to the goal. His dream of happiness was ambitious;
+it soared beyond contentment. Not being a lily of the field, he knew
+that he must toil; any honest work was acceptable to him. He was
+possessed of a fine mind; he cultivated it. He had a keen observation;
+he became a student of his fellow-men; and being strong and untiring, he
+became rich. This was but the nucleus of his ambitions, and it came to
+him late in life, but not too late for him to build round it his happy
+home, and to surround himself with the luxuries of leisure for attaining
+the pinnacle of wide information that he had always craved. His was
+merely the prosperity of an intellectual, self-made man whose time for
+rest had come.
+
+Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
+her hand upon his.
+
+"You, darling?" He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
+accent.
+
+"Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?"
+
+"I am all ears;" he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.
+
+"Jennie was here just now."
+
+"And did not come in to see me?"
+
+"She had something to tell me."
+
+"A secret?"
+
+"Yes; something I must repeat to you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Father--Jennie thinks--she has reason to know that--dear, do you think
+Mother is perfectly well?"
+
+"No, my child; I know she is not."
+
+This quiet assurance was staggering.
+
+"And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a physician?"
+A wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But--but--why?" She became a little confused under his calm gaze,
+feeling on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.
+
+"Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past week.
+Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me."
+
+"Did she admit it?"
+
+"I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she
+wishes to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my
+discovery."
+
+"But isn't it wrong--unwise--to allow her to dissipate so much?"
+
+"I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible."
+
+"But to-night--forgive me, Father--you insist on our going to this
+reception."
+
+"Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason,--one not to be
+spoken of."
+
+"'Those who trust us educate us,'" she pleaded in wistful earnestness.
+
+"Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would resist
+seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to her
+desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor
+whom I would trust professionally with my wife's life, and on whom I
+can rely for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their
+meeting. What do you think of my way, dear?"
+
+For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.
+
+"May I know his name?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"His name is Kemp,--Dr. Herbert Kemp."
+
+"Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign. Is he an
+old physician?"
+
+"I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not old
+certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally he
+is a man of great dignity, inspiring confidence in every one."
+
+"Where did you meet him?"
+
+"In the hospitals," said her father quickly. "But I will introduce him
+to you to-night. Don't lose your head when you talk to him."
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Because he is a magnificent fellow; and I wish my daughter to hold her
+own before a man whom I admire so heartily."
+
+"Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice," she
+laughed.
+
+"Only a friendly hint," he answered, rising and putting his book in its
+place with the precision of a spinster.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+"This is what I call a worldly paradise!" A girl with a face like dear
+Lady Disdain's sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voice
+chimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the soft
+strains of remote stringed instruments.
+
+"Is it a frivolous conceit?" she continued, laughing up to the man who
+stood beside her; "or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,
+radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also that
+such a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?"
+
+"You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothing
+can be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full of
+guests."
+
+"And leaving out the guests?"
+
+"They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given the
+necessary contingencies."
+
+"A solitude of two who love? Dr. Kemp, methinks you are a romantic."
+
+"You supplied the romance, Miss Gwynne. My knowledge is of the hard,
+matter-of-fact sort."
+
+"Such as bones, I suppose. Still you seem to be interested in the
+soft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet."
+
+"Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy's definition of a
+vacuum,--a large space with nothing in it. Who is he?"
+
+"And I thought you not unknown! He is the husband of a brilliant woman,
+Mrs. Ames, who has written a novel."
+
+"Clever?"
+
+"Decidedly so; it stands the test of being intoxicating and leaving a
+bad taste in the mouth,--like dry champagne."
+
+"Which is not made for women."
+
+"You mean school-girls. There she is,--that wisp of a creature listening
+so eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder he
+interests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal history
+as a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as a
+social city directory."
+
+"You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen a
+leaf from him?"
+
+"Dr. Kemp!" she exclaimed in pouting reproach, "do I appear as
+promiscuous as that? You may call me a 'blue book,' but spare my
+snobbery the opprobrious epithet of 'directory.' There goes the
+fascinating young Mrs. Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Did
+you catch the fine oratory of the glance she threw us? It said, 'Dorothy
+Gwynne, how dare you appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes? Hand him
+over; pass him around. I want him; you are only boring him, though you
+seem to be amusing yourself."
+
+Kemp's grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt amused.
+
+"Aren't you improvising?" he asked. A man need only offer an occasional
+bumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when his
+companion is a woman.
+
+"No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words. Ah,
+here comes the Queen of Sheba." She broke off with a pleased smile as
+Ruth Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.
+
+Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together they
+were doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying his
+head high, fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarly
+distinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasized
+slightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.
+Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inches
+shorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crown
+of his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short women
+resented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoe
+to speak to him.
+
+There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy,
+colorless face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was loosely
+rolled from her forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brown
+beneath delicately pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of her
+face. But the languorous air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in the
+sweet sympathy of her glance, and in a certain alertness about the poise
+of her head.
+
+Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne's slight signal.
+
+"Where are you hastening?" she asked as they turned to greet her. "One
+would think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you to
+the beauties scattered about." She looked up pertly at Arnold, after
+giving one comprehensive glance over Ruth's toilet.
+
+"We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears," he answered,
+with pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile, "I
+did not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other ground
+that it would have been cruelty to disturb you." He spoke the language
+slowly, as a stranger upon foreign ground.
+
+"Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Sheba
+and her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?" She paused a moment as
+the parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke in
+rather breathlessly: "There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; do
+not let your republican ignorance forget her proper title. Mr. Arnold,
+Mrs. Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?" and with a naive,
+superbly impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he could
+murmur an excuse.
+
+At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth's face.
+
+"Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go and
+see the orchids?" The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusion
+and calmed her self-consciousness. She raised her eyes to the dark,
+clever face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face.
+From the broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of the
+gray eyes, to the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard,
+strength and gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore the
+stamp of a letter of credit.
+
+"Thank you," said she; "I think I shall sit here. My cousin will
+probably be back soon."
+
+The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne's appellation was
+not inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her more
+conventional title.
+
+"This is a peaceful little corner," he said. "Do you notice how removed
+it seems from the rest of the room?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantly
+questioning look with one of swift resolve. "Dr. Kemp, I wish to tell
+you that my father has confided to me your joint secret."
+
+"Your father?" he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen of
+Sheba's progenitors was vague.
+
+"My father, yes," she repeated, smiling at his perplexity. "Our name is
+not very common; I am Jules Levice's daughter."
+
+He was about to exclaim "NO!" The kinship seemed ridiculous in the face
+of this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-faced
+Jew. What he did say was,--
+
+"Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine. He is present, is he not?"
+
+"Yes. Have you met my mother yet?"
+
+The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of this
+beautiful face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones held
+an uncommon charm.
+
+"No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before the
+evening is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the 'shop' which
+I have of a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seen
+any signs of illness in your mother?"
+
+"No; I have been very blind and selfish," she replied, somewhat
+bitterly, "for every one but me seems to have seen that something was
+wrong. She has been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fear
+has been burning the candle at both ends for my light. I wish I had
+known--probably it lay just within my hand to prevent this, instead of
+leading her on by my often expressed delight. What I wish to ask you
+is that if you find anything serious, you will tell me, and allay my
+father's fears as much as possible. Please do this for me. My father is
+not young; and I, I think, am trustworthy."
+
+She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking her
+companion full in the face.
+
+The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before he
+answered. Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence.
+
+"That is a pact," he said lightly; "but in all probability your father's
+fears are exaggerated."
+
+"'Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears,'" she quoted,
+softly flushing. The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keeping
+his eyes intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that made
+his companion feel that they two were exclusively alone,--a sensation
+that was slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance. By and by one
+understood that it was merely his air of interest that evoked the
+feeling, and so gradually got used to it as to one of his features.
+
+"That is so," he replied cheerily; "and--I see some one is about to
+play. Mrs. Merrill told me we should have some music."
+
+"It is Louis, I think; I know his touch."
+
+"Your cousin? He plays?"
+
+Ruth looked at him in questioning wonder. Truth to say, the doctor could
+not but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnold
+in the light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after the
+opening chords. Rubenstein's Melody in F, played by a master-hand, is
+one long sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisite
+rapture. Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived in
+his soul was magnificently interpreted. As he finished, there was not a
+murmur; and the next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle that
+instantly dispelled the former spell of grandeur.
+
+"An artist," said some one standing near.
+
+"Something more," murmured Kemp, rising as he saw Ruth do so. He was
+about to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman,
+stepped up to them, and laying her hand upon Ruth's shoulder, said
+rather hurriedly,--
+
+"I am sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but Mrs. Levice--do not be alarmed,
+Ruth dear--has become somewhat hysterical, and we cannot calm her; will
+you come this way, please, and no one need know she is in the study."
+
+"My family is making itself prominent to-night," said Ruth, with a
+little catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through the
+conservatory and so across the hall.
+
+"I shall be here, Doctor, if you wish anything," said Mrs. Merrill,
+standing without as he and Ruth entered and immediately shut the door
+after them.
+
+"Stay there," he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quite
+still where he left her. Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chair
+with her back to the door; her husband had drawn her head to his bosom.
+There was no one else in the room, and for a second not a sound, till
+Mrs. Levice began to sob in a frightened manner.
+
+"It's nothing at all, Jules," she cried, trying to laugh and failing
+lamentably; "I--I'm only silly."
+
+"There, dear, don't talk." Levice's face was white as he soothingly
+stroked her hair.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon her
+shoulders, motioned Levice aside.
+
+"Hush! Not a word!"
+
+At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriek
+stopped halfway.
+
+"Be perfectly still," he continued, holding her firmly. "Obey this
+instant," as she began to whimper; "not a sound must I hear."
+
+Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger's
+measures. For a moment Mrs. Levice had started in affright to scream;
+but the deep, commanding tone, the powerful hands upon her shoulders,
+the impressive, unswerving eye that held hers, soon began to act almost
+hypnotically. The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowly
+regained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained look
+in her eyes melted. She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in response
+to his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of his
+countenance.
+
+"That is well," said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and still
+keeping his smiling eyes upon hers. "Now just close your eyes for a
+minute; see, I have your hand,--so. Go to sleep."
+
+There was not a sound in the room; Ruth stood where she had been placed,
+and Mr. Levice was behind the doctor, his face quite colorless, scarcely
+daring to breathe. Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice told
+that she slept.
+
+Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, which
+hisses, but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed the
+lightest sleeper.
+
+"Put your hand, palm up, under hers. I am going to withdraw my hand and
+retire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyes
+in a few moments. Take her home as quietly as you can."
+
+"You will call to-morrow?" whispered Levice.
+
+He quietly assented.
+
+"Now be deft." The transfer was quickly made, and nodding cheerfully,
+Dr. Kemp left the room.
+
+Ruth came forward. Five minutes later Mrs. Levice opened her eyes.
+
+"Why, what has happened?" she asked languidly.
+
+"You fell asleep, Esther," replied her husband, gently.
+
+"Yes, I know; but why is Ruth in that gown? Oh--ye-es!" Consciousness
+was returning to her. "And who was that handsome man who was here?"
+
+"A friend of Ruth."
+
+"He is very strong," she observed pensively. She lay back in her chair
+for a few minutes as if dreaming. Suddenly she started up.
+
+"What thoughtless people we are! Let us go back to the drawing-room, or
+they will think something dreadful has happened."
+
+"No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back. Stay here with Father
+while I get our wraps."
+
+Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room. As she turned in
+the direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid upon
+her shoulder.
+
+"Oh, you, Louis! I am going for our wraps."
+
+"Here they are. How is my aunt?"
+
+"She is quite herself again. Thanks for the wraps. Will you call up the
+carriage, Louis? We shall go immediately, but do not think of coming
+yourself."
+
+"Nonsense! Tell your mother you have made your adieux to Mrs.
+Merrill,--she understands; the carriage is waiting."
+
+A few minutes later the Levices and Louis Arnold quietly stole away.
+Mrs. Levice has had an attack of hysteria. "Nothing at all," the world
+said, and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-points
+in a life-history are dismissed.
+
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+The Levices' house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an air
+of reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed houses
+that faced it and hedged it in on both sides. But the broad, sweeping
+lawns, the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open path
+to the veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, the
+long French windows open this summer's morning to sun and air, told an
+inviting tale.
+
+As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he looked
+around approvingly.
+
+"Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm," he mused as he rang the
+bell.
+
+It was immediately answered by the "grave little bookworm" in person.
+
+"I've been on the lookout for you for the past hour," he explained,
+leading him into the library and turning the key of the door as they
+entered.
+
+It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, but
+large and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs,
+a lounge or two, a woman's low rocker, an open piano, a few soft
+engravings on the walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books on
+stands, books everywhere. Two long lace-draped windows let in a flood
+of searching sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in the
+remotest corner. It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess to
+keep her house as clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirt
+might be served upon her.
+
+"Will you not be seated?" asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latter
+stood drawing off his gloves.
+
+"Is your wife coming down here?"
+
+"No; she is in her room yet."
+
+"Then let us go up immediately. I am not at leisure."
+
+"I know. Still I wish to ask you to treat whatever ailments you may find
+as lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxiety
+or worry of any kind. It will be necessary to tell only me, and every
+precaution will be taken."
+
+Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the brunt
+of the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing it
+secretly for some time. Probably a very united family, loving and
+unselfish doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in the
+face of the old gentleman's dignified appeal.
+
+"Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of my
+visit?" He moved toward the door.
+
+"Ruth--my daughter, you know--was about to tell her as I left the room."
+
+"Then we will go up directly."
+
+Levice preceded him up the broad staircase. As they reached the landing,
+he turned to the doctor.
+
+"Pardon my care, but I must make sure that Ruth has told her. Just
+step into the sitting-room a second," and the precautious husband went
+forward to his wife's bedroom, leaving the door open.
+
+Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the following
+words:--
+
+"And being interested in nervous diseases," the peculiarly low voice was
+saying, "he told Father he would call and see you,--out of professional
+curiosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be often taken as
+you were last night, should we?"
+
+"People with plenty of time on their hands," soliloquized the doctor,
+looking at his watch in the hallway.
+
+"What is his name, did you say?"
+
+"Dr. Herbert Kemp."
+
+"What! Don't you know that Dr. Kemp is one of the first physicians in
+the city? Every one knows he has no time for curiosity. Nervous diseases
+are his specialty; and do you think he would come without--"
+
+"Being asked?" interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had remembered
+the flight of time, and walked in unannounced.
+
+"Keep your seat," he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excited
+blood springing to her cheeks.
+
+"You hardly need an introduction, Esther," said Levice. "You remember
+Dr. Kemp from last night?"
+
+"Yes. Don't go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn't you something to do
+downstairs?"
+
+Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her trouble
+from his tender watchfulness? Great dark rings encircled her now
+feverishly bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drew
+aside, her mother's shaking fingers held tight to her hand.
+
+"I have nothing in the world to do," replied Levice, heartily; "I am
+going to sit right here and get interested."
+
+"You will have to submit to a friendly cross-examination, Mrs. Levice,"
+said the physician.
+
+He drew a chair up before her and took both her hands in his. As
+Ruth relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantly
+authoritative gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, left
+the room.
+
+She descended a few steps to the windowed landing. Here she intended
+joining the doctor on his way down. Probably her father would follow
+him; but it was her intention to intercept any such plan. A fog had
+arisen, and the struggling rosy beams of the sun glimmered opalescently
+through the density. Ruth thought it would be clear by noon, when she
+and her mother could go for a stirring tramp. She stood lost in thought
+till a firm footfall on the stairs aroused her.
+
+"I see Miss Levice here; don't come down," Kemp was saying. "What further
+directions I have must be given to a woman."
+
+"Stay with Mamma, Father," called Ruth, looking up at her hesitating
+father; "I shall see the doctor out;" and she quickly ran down the few
+remaining steps to Kemp, awaiting her at the foot. She opened the
+door of the library, and closing it quickly behind them, turned to him
+expectantly.
+
+"Nothing to be alarmed at," he said, answering her mute inquiry. He
+seated himself at the table, and drew from his vest-pocket pencil and
+blank. Without another glance at the girl, he wrote rapidly for some
+minutes; then quickly moving back his chair, he arose and handed her the
+two slips of paper.
+
+"The first is a tonic which you will have made up," he explained,
+picking up his gloves and hat and moving toward the door; "the other is
+a diet which you are to observe. As I told her just now, she must remain
+in bed and see no one but her immediate family; you must see that she
+hears and reads nothing exciting. That is all, I think."
+
+Indignation and alarm held riot in Ruth's face and arrested the doctor's
+departure.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she said, "you force me to remind you of a promise you made
+me last night. Will you at least tell me what ails my mother that you
+use such strenuous measures?"
+
+A flash of recollection came to the doctor's eyes.
+
+"Why, this is an unpardonable breach upon my part, Miss Levice; but I
+will tell you all the trouble. Your mother is suffering with a certain
+form of hysteria to a degree that would have prostrated her had we not
+come forward in time. As it is, by prostrating her ourselves for awhile,
+say a month or so, she will regain her equilibrium. You have heard of
+the food and rest cure?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, that is what she will undergo mildly. Has she any duties that
+will suffer by her neglect or that will intrude upon her equanimity?"
+
+"No necessary ones but those of the house. Under no circumstances can I
+conceive of her giving up their supervision."
+
+"Yet she must do so under the present state of affairs. Remember, her
+mind must be kept unoccupied, but time must be made to pass pleasantly
+for her. This is not an easy task, Miss Levice; but, according to my
+promise, I have left you to undertake it."
+
+"Thank you," she responded quietly.
+
+Kemp looked at her with a sense of calm satisfaction.
+
+"Good-morning," he said, holding out his hand with a smile.
+
+As the door closed behind him, Ruth felt as if a burden had fallen from,
+instead of upon her. For the last twenty-four hours her apprehensions
+had been excessive. Now, though she knew positively that her mother's
+condition needed instant and constant care, which she must herself
+assume, all sense of responsibility fell from her. The few quiet words
+of this strange physician had made her trust his strength as she would
+a rock. She could not have explained why it was so; but as her father
+remarked once, she might have said, "I trust him implicitly, because,
+though a man of superiority, he implicitly trusts himself."
+
+As she re-entered her mother's room, her father regarded her intently.
+
+"So we are going to make a baby of you, Mamma," she cried playfully,
+coming forward and folding her arms around her mother, who lay on the
+lounge.
+
+"So he says; and what he says one cannot resist." There was an apathetic
+ring to her mother's voice that surprised her. Quickly the thought
+flashed through her that she was too weary to resist now that she was
+found out.
+
+"Then we won't try to," Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge of
+the lounge close to her mother. From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted with
+remorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovely
+young daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothed
+her hair.
+
+"And if you are to be baby," she continued, smiling down, "I shall
+have to change places with you, and become mother. You will see what a
+capital one I shall make. Let's see, what are the duties? First, baby
+must be kept clean and sweet,--I am an artist at that; secondly, Father
+and the rest of us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third--"
+
+"I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;" the
+gentle meaning of her father's words and glance caused Ruth to flush
+with pleasure. When Levice said, "My child," the words were a caress.
+"Just believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was 'Whatever
+you do, do thoroughly.' She had to learn it through experience. But as
+you trust me, trust my pupil."
+
+The soft smile that played upon her husband's face was reflected on Mrs.
+Levice's.
+
+"Oh, Ruth," she murmured tremulously, "it will be so hard for you."
+
+This was a virtual laying down of arms, and Ruth was satisfied.
+
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+Louis Arnold, the only other member of the Levice family, had been
+forced to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice's
+attack at the Merrill reception. He was, therefore, much surprised and
+shocked on his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and such
+rigorous measures for quiet in vogue.
+
+Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years. He
+was a direct importation from France, which he had left just before
+attaining his majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductive
+to his imagination. He had no sooner taken up his abode with his uncle
+than he was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreign
+vertu in the beautiful house.
+
+Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he was
+soon able to take almost the entire charge of Levice's affairs. In a few
+years his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities. From
+the time he arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt's
+escort, thus again relieving Levice, who preferred the quieter life.
+
+When Ruth began to go into society, his presence was almost a necessity,
+as Jewish etiquette, or rather Jewish espionage, forbids a young man
+unattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a single
+woman. This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got into
+for keeping the young people apart,--making cowards of the young men,
+and depriving the young girls of a great deal of innocent pleasure.
+
+Arnold, however, was not an escort to be despised, as Ruth soon
+discovered. She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool,
+quizzical manner and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from the
+more girlish admiration of his distinguished person. He and Ruth were
+great friends in a quiet, unspoken way.
+
+They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of his
+return. Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting with
+her. Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feel
+lonesome in the changed aspect of the house.
+
+Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward and
+forward in the rocker.
+
+"What I am surprised at," he was saying, "is that my aunt submits to
+this confining treatment;" he pronounced the last word "tritment," but
+he never stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding a
+certain piquancy to his speech.
+
+"You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows his
+directions blindly."
+
+"So I have heard from a great many--women."
+
+"And not men?"
+
+"I have never happened to hold a conversation with a man on the powers
+of Dr. Kemp. Women delight in such things."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Why, giving in to the magnetic power of a strong man."
+
+"You err slightly, Louis; it is the power, not the giving in that we
+delight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness."
+
+"Will you allow me to differ with you? Besides, apart from this great
+first cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has not
+rebelled."
+
+"I think I can answer that satisfactorily," replied his cousin, a
+mischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong white
+teeth; "she is in love."
+
+"Also?"
+
+"With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best. Love is
+also something every one loves to give in to."
+
+"Every one who loves, you mean."
+
+"Every one loves something or some one."
+
+"Behold the exception, therefore." He moved his head so as to get a
+better view of her.
+
+"I do not believe you."
+
+"That--is rude." He kept his eyes meditatively fixed upon her.
+
+"Have you made a discovery in my face?" asked the girl presently,
+slightly moving from his gaze.
+
+"No," he replied calmly. "My discovery was made some time ago; I am
+merely going over beautiful and pleasant ground."
+
+"Really?" she returned, flushing, "then please look away; you annoy me."
+
+"Why should I, since you know it is done in admiration? You are a woman;
+do not pretend distaste for it."
+
+"I shall certainly go upstairs if you persist in talking so
+disagreeably."
+
+"Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to be
+disagreeable. Always wear white; it becomes you. Never forget that
+beauty needs appropriate surroundings. Another thing, ma belle cousine,
+this little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocation
+spoils your whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain its
+healthy whiteness, while--"
+
+"You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis. Do you know, if you
+often spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?"
+
+"That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides making
+enemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest and
+loveliest."
+
+"We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mocking
+tarantulas."
+
+"That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our loving
+everybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Love
+only wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose. Cupid,
+you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had his
+portrait taken after he matured."
+
+"A character such as you would have would be unbearable."
+
+"But sensible and wise."
+
+"Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctively
+before the brain can speak."
+
+"Good--for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain always
+reconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worth
+while to signal either 'love' or 'hate.'"
+
+He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecoming
+blush mounted slowly to Ruth's face and her eyes were bright as she
+watched him. When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.
+
+"No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independence
+of all emotion. But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being a
+weakness, is often more clever than wisdom? At any rate, what you are
+doing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more strongly
+than many."
+
+He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly,
+never, however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softly
+passionate minor strain.
+
+"What am I doing?" he asked.
+
+"Making love to the piano."
+
+"It does not hurt the piano, does it?"
+
+"No; but never say you do not feel when you play like that."
+
+"Is not that rather peremptory? Who taught you to read characters?"
+
+"You."
+
+"I? What a poor teacher I was to allow you to show such bungling work!
+Will you sing?"
+
+"No, I shall read; I have had quite enough of myself and of you for one
+night."
+
+"Alas, poor me!" he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany his
+words with his music; "I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotions
+are so troublesome. You have but made your entrance into the coldest,
+most exciting arena,--the world. Remember what I tell you,--all the
+strong motives, love and hate and jealousy, are mere flotsam and jetsam.
+You are the only loser by their possession."
+
+The quiet closing of the door was his only answer. Ruth had left the
+room.
+
+She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt of
+cynicism. If she could escape a cynic either in books or in society,
+she invariably did so. Life was still beautiful for her; and one of her
+father's untaught lessons was that the cynic is a one-sided creature,
+having lost the eye that sees the compensation balancing all things.
+As long as Louis attacked things, it did no harm, except to incite
+a friendly passage-at-arms; hence, most of such talk passed in the
+speaking. Not so the disparaging insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp.
+
+During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chief
+to her mother she had seen him almost daily. Time in a quiet sick-room
+passes monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-being
+and activity here assume proportions of importance; meal-times are
+looked forward to as a break in the day; the doctor's visit especially
+when it is the only one allowed, is an excitement. Dr. Kemp's visits
+were short, but the two learned to look for his coming and the sound
+of his deep, cheery voice, as to their morning's tonic that would
+strengthen the whole day. Naturally, as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levice
+in her idleness had analyzed and discussed aloud his qualities, both
+personal and professional, to her satisfaction. She had small ground
+for basing her judgments, but the doctor formed a good part of her
+conversation.
+
+Ruth's knowledge of him was somewhat larger,--about the distance between
+Mrs. Levice's bedroom and the front door. She had a homely little way of
+seeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her any
+new instructions. Instructions are soon given and taken; and there was
+always time for a word or two of a different nature.
+
+In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificent
+pair of jetty blacks.
+
+"I wonder if they would despise a lump of sugar," she said one morning.
+
+"Why should they?" asked Kemp.
+
+"Oh, they seem to hold their heads so haughtily."
+
+"Still, they are human enough to know sweets when they see them," their
+owner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in her
+quaint, flowered morning-gown. "Try them once, and you won't doubt it."
+
+She did try them; and as she turned a slightly flushed face to Kemp, who
+stood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, "Let me
+thank you and shake hands for my horses."
+
+One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather. The doctor
+became neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercurially
+affected by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of a
+private signal-service reporter.
+
+"This is the time for a tramp," she said, as they stood on the veranda,
+and the summer air, laden with the perfume of heliotrope, stole around
+them. "That is where the laboring man has the advantage over you, Dr.
+Kemp."
+
+"Which, ten to one, he finds a disadvantage. I must confess that in such
+weather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should be
+inhaling this air at a leisurely trot or stride as his habit may be.
+You, Miss Levice, should get on your walking togs instantly."
+
+"Yes, but not conveniently. My father and I never failed to take our
+morning constitutional together when all was well. Father always gave me
+the dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as long
+strides as a boy. Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry my
+pas was not ladylike."
+
+"You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidently
+remembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one's length of
+limb to the dainty footsteps of a woman."
+
+"Father has no trouble on that score," said Ruth, laughing.
+
+The doctor smiled in response, and raising his hat, said, "That is where
+he has the advantage over a tall man."
+
+Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in his
+manner but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally at
+variance with the peculiarities of the "lady's man" that Louis had
+insinuated he was accounted. She resolved to scrutinize him more
+narrowly the next morning.
+
+Mrs. Levice's room was handsomely furnished and daintily appointed.
+Even from her pillows she would have detected any lapse in its exquisite
+neatness, and one of Ruth's duties was to leave none to be detected.
+The house was large; and with three servants the young girl had to do a
+great deal of supervising. She took a natural pride in having things go
+as smoothly as under her mother's administration; and Mr. Levice said it
+was well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was a
+vast improvement.
+
+Ruth had given the last touches to her mother's dark hair, and was
+reading aloud the few unexciting items one finds in the morning's paper.
+Mrs. Levice, propped almost to a sitting position by many downy pillows,
+polished her nails and half listened. Her cheeks were no longer brightly
+flushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and her
+slight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great weariness
+had taken its place. The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at the
+open window.
+
+Ruth's reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying a
+dainty basket of Duchesse roses.
+
+"For Madame," she said, handing it to Ruth, who came forward to take it.
+
+"Read the card yourself," she said, placing it in her mother's hand as
+the girl retired. A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice's face; she
+buried her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope.
+
+"From Louis!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Poor fellow! he was dreadfully
+upset when he came in. He did not say much, but his look and hand-shake
+were enough as he bent to kiss me. Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louis
+has a very loving disposition?"
+
+"Yes, dear?"
+
+"Yes. One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him to
+be unusually sympathetic for a man. I would sooner have him for a friend
+than many a woman; he has not many equals among the young men I know.
+Don't you agree with me, girlie?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I always liked Louis."
+
+"How coldly you say that! And, by the way, it struck me as very queer
+last night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week. Since
+when has this formal hand-shake come into use?"
+
+A slight flush crimsoned Ruth's cheek.
+
+"It is not my fault," she said, smiling; "I always kissed Louis even
+after a day's absence. But some few months ago he inaugurated the new
+regime, and holds me at arm's length. I can't ask him why, when he looks
+at me so matter-of-factly through his eyeglass, can I?"
+
+"No; certainly not." A slight frown marred the complacency of Mrs.
+Levice's brow. Such actions were not at all in accordance with her
+darling plan. Arnold was much to her; but she wished him to be more.
+This was a side-track upon which she had not wished her train to move.
+
+Her cogitations took a turn when she heard a quick, firm footfall in the
+hall.
+
+Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor.
+
+Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside. He
+had not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravity
+replaced his usual leisurely manner.
+
+"Good-morning, Mrs. Levice," he said, taking her hand in his, and
+looking searchingly down at her. "How are you feeling this morning? Any
+starts or shakes of any sort?"
+
+"No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fed
+animal. Won't you sit down, Doctor?"
+
+"No; I have a consultation in a very short time. Keep right on as you
+have been doing. I do not think it will be necessary for me to call for
+several days now; probably not before Friday."
+
+"And to-day is Tuesday! Am I to see no one till then?"
+
+"No one but those you have seen. Pray do not complain, Mrs. Levice,"
+he continued rather sternly. "You are a very fortunate invalid; illness
+with you is cushioned in every conceivable corner. I wish I could make
+you divide some of your blessings. As I cannot, I wish you to appreciate
+them as they deserve. Do not come down, Miss Levice," as she moved to
+follow him; "I am in a great hurry. Good-morning."
+
+"How harassed he looked! I wonder who is his patient!" observed Mrs.
+Levice, as Ruth quietly returned to her seat. A sunbeam fell aslant the
+girl's preoccupied face. The doctor's few words had given her food for
+thought.
+
+When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herself
+Louis's allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything to
+mock at, had he been present, in Kemp's abrupt visit of the morning.
+
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+Ruth always dressed well. Indeed, any little jealousy her lovely
+presence might occasion was usually summed up in the terse innuendo,
+"Fine feathers make fine birds."
+
+To dress well is to dress appropriately to time, place, and season.
+Having a full purse, she could humor every occasion with a change
+of gown; being possessed of good taste, her toilets never offended;
+desiring to look pleasing, as every woman should, she studied what was
+becoming; having a mother to whom a good toilet was one of the most
+pressing convenances, and who delighted in planning beautiful gowns for
+her beautiful daughter, there was nothing lacking to prevent Ruth from
+being well-dressed.
+
+On this summer's afternoon she was clad from head to foot in soft,
+pale gray. Every movement of her young body, as she walked toward town,
+betokened health and elastic strength. Her long, easy gait precluded any
+idea of hurry; she noticed everything she passed, from a handsome house
+to a dirty child.
+
+She was approaching that portion of Geary Street which the doctors
+have appropriated, and she carefully scanned each silvery sign-plate in
+search of Dr. Kemp's name. It was the first time she had had occasion to
+go; and with a little feeling of novel curiosity she ran up the stairs
+leading to his office.
+
+It was just three,--the time stated as the limit of his office-hours;
+but when Ruth entered the handsome waiting-room, two or three patients
+were still awaiting their turns. Seated in one of the easy-chairs, near
+the window, was an aristocratic-looking woman, whom Ruth recognized as a
+friend of one of her Christian friends, and with whom she had a speaking
+acquaintance. Nodding pleasantly in response to the rather frigid bow,
+she walked to the centre of the room, and laying upon the table a bunch
+of roses that she carried, proceeded to select one of the magazines
+scattered about. As she sat down, she found herself opposite a
+stout Irishwoman, coarsely but cleanly dressed, who with undisguised
+admiration took in every detail of Ruth's appearance. She overlooked the
+evident simplicity of the woman's stare; but the wistful, yearning look
+of a little girl who reclined upon the lounge caused her to sit with her
+magazine unopened. As soon as she perceived that it was her flowers that
+the child regarded so longingly, she bent forward, and holding out a few
+roses, said invitingly,--
+
+"Would you like these?"
+
+There is generally something startling in the sudden sound of a voice
+after a long silence between strangers; but the pretty cadence of Ruth's
+gentle voice bore no suggestion of abruptness.
+
+"Indeed, and she just do dote on 'em," answered the mother, in a loud
+tone, for the blushing child.
+
+"So do I," responded Ruth; and leaning farther forward, she put them in
+the little hand.
+
+But the child's hand did not close over them, and the large eyes turned
+piteously to her mother.
+
+"It's paralyzed she is," hurriedly explained the mother. "Shall Mamma
+hold the beautiful roses for ye, darlint?"
+
+"Please," answered the childish treble.
+
+Ruth hesitated a second, and then rising and bending over her said,--
+
+"No; I know of a better way. Wouldn't you like to have me fasten them in
+your belt? There, now you can smell them all the time."
+
+"Roses is what she likes mostly," proceeded the mother, garrulously,
+"and she's for giving the doctor one every time she can when he comes.
+Faith! it's about all he do get for his goodness, for what with--"
+
+The sudden opening of the folding-door interrupted her flow of talk.
+Seeing the doctor standing on the threshold as a signal for the next in
+waiting to come forward, the poor woman arose preparatory to helping her
+child into the consulting-room.
+
+"Let me help Mamie, Mrs. O'Brien," said he, coming toward her. At the
+same moment the elegant-looking woman rose from her chair and swept
+toward him.
+
+"I believe it is my turn," she said, in response to his questioning
+salutation.
+
+"Certainly, if you came before Mrs. O'Brien. If so, walk in," he
+answered, moving the portiere aside for the other to enter.
+
+"Sure, Doctor," broke in Mrs. O'Brien, anxiously, "we came in together."
+
+"Indeed!" He looked from the florid, flustered face to the haughtily
+impassive woman beside her.
+
+"Well, then," said he, courteously, "I know Mrs. O'Brien is wanted at
+home by her little ones. Mrs. Baker, you will not object, I am sure."
+
+It was now the elegant woman's turn to flush as Kemp took up the child.
+
+Ruth felt a leap of delight at the action. It was a quiet lesson to be
+laid to heart; and she knew she could never see him in a better light
+than when he left the room holding the little charity patient in his
+arms.
+
+She also noticed with a tinge of amusement the look of added hauteur on
+the face of Mrs. Baker, as she returned to her seat at the window.
+
+"Haughtiness," mused Ruth, "is merely a cloak to selfishness, or the
+want of a proper spirit of humanity."
+
+The magazine article remained unread; she drifted into a sort of
+day-dream, and scarcely noticed when Mrs. Baker left the room.
+
+"Well, Miss Levice."
+
+She started up, slightly embarrassed, as the doctor's voice thus aroused
+her.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, coming forward and flushing slightly
+under his amused smile. "It was so quiet here that I forgot where I
+was."
+
+He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her an
+exquisite fragrance of roses.
+
+"Will you be seated?" he asked, as he turned from closing the door.
+
+"No; it is not worth while."
+
+"What is the trouble,--you or your mother?"
+
+There had been nothing disconcerting in the Irish-woman's stare; but she
+felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable under the doctor's broad gaze.
+
+"Neither of us," she answered; "I broke the tonic bottle this morning,
+and as the number was destroyed, I should like to have you give me
+another prescription."
+
+"Directly. Take this chair for a moment."
+
+She seated herself perforce, and he took the chair beside the desk.
+
+"How is she since yesterday?" he asked, as he wrote, without looking up.
+
+"Quite as comfortable."
+
+He handed her the prescription presently, and she arose at once. He
+stepped forward to open the outer door for her.
+
+"I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health," he remarked, with a
+hand on the knob.
+
+"No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it. But for your
+method I am afraid there might have been."
+
+"Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind. Your nursing was as
+potent a factor as my directions. It is not Congress, but the people,
+who make the country, you know."
+
+"That is condescending, coming from Congress," she laughed gayly; "but
+I must disclaim the compliment, I am sorry to say; my nursing was only a
+name."
+
+"As you please. Miss Levice, may I beg a rose of you? No, not all. Well,
+thank you, they will look wonderful in a certain room I am thinking of."
+
+"Yes?" There was a note of inquiry in the little word in reply to Kemp's
+pointed remark spoken as with a sudden purpose.
+
+"Yes," he continued, leaning his back against the door and looking
+earnestly down at the tall girl; "the room of a lad without even the
+presence of a mother to make it pretty;" he paused as if noting the
+effect of his words. "He is as lonely and uncomplaining as a tree would
+be in a desert; these roses will be quite a godsend to him." He finished
+his sentence pleasantly at sight of the expression of sympathy in the
+lovely brown eyes.
+
+"Do you think he would care to see any one?"
+
+"Well," replied the doctor, slowly, "I think he would not mind seeing
+you."
+
+"Then will you tell me where he lives so that I can go there some day?"
+
+"Some day? Why not to-day? Would it be impossible to arrange it?"
+
+"Why, no," she faltered, looking at him in surprise.
+
+"Excuse my curiosity, please; but the boy is in such pressing need of
+some pleasurable emotion that as soon as I looked at you and your roses
+I thought, 'Now, that would not be a bad thing for Bob.' You see, I was
+simply answering a question that has bothered me all day. Then will you
+drive there with me now?"
+
+"Would not that be impossible with your driver?" she asked, searching
+unaccountably for an excuse.
+
+"I can easily dispense with him."
+
+"But won't my presence be annoying?" she persisted, hesitating oddly.
+
+"Not to me," he replied, turning quickly for his hat. "Come, then,
+please, I must waste no more time in Bob's good cause."
+
+She followed him silently with a sensation of quiet excitement.
+
+Presently she found herself comfortably seated beside the doctor, who
+drove off at a rapid pace.
+
+"I think," said he, turning his horses westward, "I shall have to make a
+call out here on Jones Street before going to Bob. You will not mind the
+delay, Miss Levice, I hope."
+
+"Oh, no. This is 'my afternoon off,' you know. Father is at home, and my
+mother will not miss me in the least. I was just thinking--"
+
+She came to a sudden pause. She had just remembered that she was
+about to become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent,
+interested look in Kemp's eye as he glanced at her was the disturbing
+element.
+
+"You were thinking what?" he prompted with his eye now to the horses'
+heads.
+
+"I am afraid you would not be edified if I continued," she answered
+hastily, biting her lip. She had been about to remark that her father
+would miss her, nevertheless--but such personal platitudes are not
+always in good taste. Seeing that she was disinclined to finish her
+sentence, he did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up his
+horses before a rather imposing house.
+
+"I shall not be gone a minute, I think," he said, as he sprang out and
+was about to attach the reins to the post.
+
+"Let me hold them, please," said Ruth, eagerly stretching forth a hand.
+
+He placed them in her hand with a smile, and turned in at the gateway.
+
+He had been in the house about five minutes when she saw him come out
+hastily. His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gathered
+in an unmistakable frown. At the moment when he slammed the gate
+behind him, a stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted him
+breathlessly.
+
+He waited stolidly with his foot on the carriage-step till she came up.
+
+"So sorry I had to go out!" she burst forth. "How did you find my
+husband? What do you think of him?"
+
+"Madame," he replied shortly, "since you ask, I think your husband is
+little short of an idiot!"
+
+Ruth felt herself flush as she heard.
+
+The woman looked at him in consternation.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked.
+
+"Matter? Mayonnaise is the matter. If a man with a weak stomach like
+his cannot resist gorging himself with things he has been strictly
+prohibited from touching, he had better proclaim himself irresponsible
+and be done. It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting up
+such antics. Good-afternoon."
+
+And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins
+from her without a word.
+
+She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician.
+He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact
+to break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, the
+explosion is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
+
+They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach.
+The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is
+here charged with odors redolent of anything but the "shores of Araby
+the blest."
+
+Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
+
+"Some men," he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, "have no
+more conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages.
+Here is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his
+soul; otherwise he is a strong, sensible man. I can't account for it."
+
+"The force of habit, perhaps," suggested Ruth.
+
+"Probably. Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land."
+
+That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on
+the weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark,
+although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself.
+Some Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the
+race as a personal calumny.
+
+"We always make the reservation that the fat be clean," she laughed.
+
+Kemp flashed around at her.
+
+"Miss Levice," he exclaimed contritely, "I completely forgot--I hope I
+was not rude."
+
+"Why, certainly not," she answered half merrily, half earnestly. "Why
+should you be?"
+
+"As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, have
+their faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of their
+characteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation."
+
+"Thank you," said the girl, quietly. "I am very proud of many Jewish
+traits."
+
+"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and
+countless other things."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the
+musical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison with
+these, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches
+of art. Can you explain it, Miss Levice?"
+
+He waited deferentially for a reply.
+
+"I was trying to think of a proper answer," she responded with earnest
+simplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers
+are the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times
+and circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting and
+sculpture require other things."
+
+"Which the Jew cannot obtain?"
+
+A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she answered, "we have begun. I should like to quote to you
+the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired
+to answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil
+that which in his mouth seemed eloquent."
+
+"You would not, Miss Levice. Tell the story, please."
+
+They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention
+from the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her
+expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
+
+"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrim
+was about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friend
+good-by, he said: 'In that far land to which I am journeying, is there
+not some relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can
+bring to you?' The friend mused awhile. 'Yes,' he made answer finally;
+'there is a small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg of
+you to bring me a single rose from the plains of Sharon.' The pilgrim
+promised, and departed. On his return he presented himself before his
+friend. 'You have brought it?' he cried. 'Friend,' answered the pilgrim,
+sadly, 'I have brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary
+travelling it is now but a poor, withered thing.' 'Give it me!'
+exclaimed the friend, eagerly. The other did so. True, it was lifeless
+and withered; not a vestige remained of its once fragrant glory. But as
+the man held it tenderly in his hand, memory and love untold overcame
+him, and he wept in ecstasy. And as his tears fell on the faded rose,
+lo! The petals sprang up, flushed into life; an exquisite perfume
+enveloped it,--it had revived in all its beauty. Sir, in the words of
+the rabbi, 'In the light of toleration and love, we too have revived, we
+too are looking up.'"
+
+As the girl paused, Kemp slightly, almost reverentially, raised his hat.
+
+"Miss Levice, that is exquisite," he said softly.
+
+They had reached the old, poorer section of the city, and the doctor
+stopped before a weather-beaten cottage.
+
+"This is where Bob receives," he said, holding out a hand to Ruth; "in
+all truth it cannot be called a home."
+
+Ruth had a peculiar, inexplicable feeling of mutual understanding with
+the doctor as she went in with him. She hardly realized that she had
+been an impressionable witness of some of his dominant moods, and that
+she herself had been led on to an unrestrained display of feeling.
+
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+They walked directly into a bare, dark hallway. There was no one
+stirring, and Kemp softly opened the door of one of several rooms
+leading into the passage. Here a broad band of yellow sunlight fell
+unrestrained athwart the waxen-like face of the sleeping boy. The rest
+of the simple, poor-looking room was in shadow. The doctor noiselessly
+closed the door behind them, and stepped to the bed, which was covered
+with a heavy horse-blanket.
+
+The boy on the bed even in sleep could not be accounted good-looking;
+there was a heaviness of feature, a plentitude of freckles, a shock
+of lack-lustre hair, that made poor Bob Bard anything but a thing of
+beauty. And yet, as Ruth looked at him, and saw Kemp's strong white
+hand placed gently on the low forehead, a great wave of tender pity took
+possession of her. Sleep puts the strongest at the mercy of the
+watcher; there is a loneliness about it, a silent, expressive plea for
+protection, that appeals unconsciously. Ruth would have liked to raise
+the rough, lonely head to her bosom.
+
+"It would be too bad to wake him now," said the doctor, in a low voice,
+coming back to her side; "he is sleeping restfully; and that is what
+he needs. I am sorry our little plan is frustrated; but it would be
+senseless to wait, as there is no telling when he will waken."
+
+A shade of disappointment passed over the girl's face, which he noticed.
+
+"But," he continued, "you might leave your roses where he cannot fail to
+see them. His conjectures on their mysterious appearance will rouse him
+sufficiently for one day."
+
+He watched her move lightly across the room, and fill a cup with
+water from an earthenware pitcher. She looked about for a second as if
+hesitating where to place it, and then quickly drew up a high-backed
+wooden chair close to the bedside, and placed thereon a cup with roses,
+so that they looked straight into the face of the slumbering lad.
+
+"We will go now," Kemp said, and opened the door for Ruth to pass
+before him. She followed him slowly, but on the threshold drew back, a
+thoughtful little pucker on her brow.
+
+"I think I shall wait anyway," she explained. "I should like to talk
+with Bob a little."
+
+The doctor looked slightly annoyed.
+
+"You had better drive home with me," he objected.
+
+"Thank you," she replied, drawing farther back into the room; "but the
+Jackson Street cars are very convenient."
+
+"Nevertheless, I should prefer to have you come with me," he insisted.
+
+"But I do not wish to," she repeated quietly; "besides, I have decided
+to stay."
+
+"That settles it, then," smiled Kemp; and shaking her hand, he went out
+alone.
+
+"When my lady will, she will; and when she won't, she won't," he mused,
+gathering up his reins. But the terminal point to the thought was a
+smile.
+
+Ruth, thus left alone, seated herself on the one other chair near the
+foot of the bed. Strange to say, though she gazed at Bob, her thoughts
+had flown out of the room. She was dimly conscious that she was
+pleasantly excited. Had she cared to look the cause boldly in the face,
+she would have known that Miss Ruth Levice's vanity had been highly fed
+by Dr. Kemp's unmistakable desire for her assistance. He must at least
+have looked at her with friendly eyes; but here her modesty drew a line
+even for herself, and giving herself a mental shake, she saw that two
+lambent brown eyes were looking wonderingly at her from the face of the
+sick lad.
+
+"How do you feel now, Bob?" she asked, rising immediately and smiling
+down at him.
+
+The boy forgot to answer.
+
+"The doctor brought me here," she went on brightly; "but as you were
+asleep, he could not wait. Are you feeling better, Bob?"
+
+The soft, star-like eyes did not wander in their gaze.
+
+"Why did you come?" he breathed finally. His voice was surprisingly
+musical.
+
+"Why?" faltered Ruth. "Oh, to bring you these roses. Do you care for
+flowers, Bob?" She lifted the mass of delicate buds toward him. Two
+pale, transparent hands went out to meet them. Tenderly as you sometimes
+see a mother press the cheek of her babe to her own, he drew them to his
+cheek.
+
+"Oh, my darlings, my darlings!" he murmured passionately, with his lips
+pressed to the fragrant petals.
+
+"Do you love them, then, so much?"
+
+"Lady," replied the boy, raising himself to a sitting posture, "there is
+nothing in the world to me like flowers."
+
+"I never thought boys cared so for flowers," remarked Ruth, in surprise.
+
+"I am a gardener," said he, simply, and again fell to caressing the
+roses. Sitting up, he looked fully seventeen or eighteen years old.
+
+"You must have missed them during your illness," observed Ruth.
+
+A long sigh answered her. The boy rested his dreamy eyes upon her. He
+was no longer ugly, with his thoughts illumining his face.
+
+"Marechal Niel," she heard him whisper, still with his eyes upon her,
+"all in soft, radiant robes like a gracious queen. Lady, you fit well
+next my Homer rose."
+
+"What Homer rose?" asked Ruth, humoring the flower-poet's odd conceit.
+
+"My strong, brave Homer. There is none like him for strength, with all
+his gentle perfume folded close to his heart. I used to think these
+Duchesses would suit him best; but now, having seen you, I know they
+were too frail,--Marechal Niel." It was impossible to resent openly the
+boy's musings; but with a quick insistence that stemmed the current of
+his thoughts, she said,--
+
+"Tell me where you suffer, Bob."
+
+"I do not suffer. I am only weak; but he is nourishing me, and Mrs.
+Mills brings me what he orders."
+
+"And is there anything you would like to have of which you forgot to
+tell him?"
+
+"I never tell him anything I wish," replied the boy, proudly. "He knows
+beforehand. Did you never draw up close to a delicate flower, lay your
+cheek softly upon it, so,--close your eyes, so,--and listen to the tale
+it's telling? Well, that is what my good friend does always."
+
+It was like listening to music to hear the slow, drawling words of the
+invalid. Ruth's hand closed softly over his.
+
+"I have some pretty stories at home about flowers," she said; "would you
+like to read them?"
+
+"I can't read very well," answered Bob, in unabashed simplicity.
+
+Yet his spoken words were flawless.
+
+"Then I shall read them to you," she answered pleasantly, "to-morrow,
+Bob, say at about three."
+
+"You will come again?" The heavy mouth quivered in eager surprise.
+
+"Why, yes; now that I know you, I must know you better. May I come?"
+
+"Oh, lady!"
+
+Ruth went out enveloped in that look of gratitude. It was the first
+directly personal expression of honest gratitude she had ever received;
+and as she walked down the hill, she longed to do something that would
+be really helpful to some one. She had led, on the whole, so far, an
+egotistic life. Being their only child, her parents expected much of
+her. During her school-life she had been a sort of human reservoir for
+all her father's ideas, whims, and hobbies. True, he had made her take
+a wide interest in everything within the line of vision; hanging on
+his arm, as they wandered off daily in their peripatetic school, he had
+imbued her with all his manly nobility of soul. But theorizing does not
+give much hold on a subject, the mind being taken up with its own clever
+elucidations. For the past six months, after a year's travel in Europe,
+her mother had led her on in a whirl of what she called happiness. Ruth
+had soon gauged the worth of this surface-life, and now that a lull had
+come, she realized that what she needed was some interest outside of
+herself,--an interest which the duties of a mere society girl do not
+allow to develop to a real good.
+
+A plan slowly formed itself in her mind, in which she became so
+engrossed that she unconsciously crossed the cable of the Jackson Street
+cars. She did not turn till a hand was suddenly laid upon her arm.
+
+"What are you doing in this part of town?" broke in Louis Arnold's voice
+in evident anger.
+
+"Oh, Louis, how you startled me! What is the matter with this part of
+town?"
+
+"You are on a very disreputable street. Where are you going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Then be so kind as to turn back with me and take the cars."
+
+She glanced at him quickly, unused to his tone of command, and turned
+with him.
+
+"How do you happen to be here?" he asked shortly.
+
+"Dr. Kemp took me to see a poor patient of his."
+
+"Dr. Kemp?" surprise raised his eyebrows half an inch.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Indeed! Then," he continued in cool, biting words, "why didn't he carry
+his charity a little farther and take you home again?"
+
+"Because I did not choose to go with him," she returned, rearing her
+head and looking calmly at him as they walked along.
+
+"Bah! What had your wishing or not wishing to do with it? The man
+knew where he had taken you even if you did not know. This quarter is
+occupied by nothing but negroes and foreign loafers. It was decidedly
+ungentlemanly to leave you to return alone at this time of the evening."
+
+"Probably he gave me credit for being able to take care of myself in
+broad daylight."
+
+"Probably he never gave it a second's thought one way or the other.
+Hereafter you had better consult your natural protectors before starting
+out on Quixotic excursions with indifferent strangers."
+
+"Louis!"
+
+She actually stamped her little foot while walking.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Stop that, please. You are not my keeper."
+
+Her cousin smiled quizzically. They took their seats on the dummy, just
+as the sun, a golden ball, was about to glide behind Lone Mountain. Late
+afternoon is a quiet time, and Ruth and Louis did not speak for a while.
+
+The girl was experiencing a whirl of conflicting emotions,--anger at
+Louis's interference, pleasure at his protecting care, annoyance at
+what he considered gross negligence on the doctor's part, and a sneaking
+pride, in defiance of his insinuations, over the thought that Kemp had
+trusted to her womanliness as a safeguard against any chance annoyance.
+She also felt ashamed at having showed temper.
+
+"Louis," she ventured finally, rubbing her shoulder against his, as
+gentle animals conciliate their mates, "I am sorry I spoke so harshly;
+but it exasperates me to hear you cast slurs, as you have done before,
+upon Dr. Kemp in his absence."
+
+"Why should it, my dear, since it give you a chance to uphold him?"
+
+There is a way of saying "my dear" that is as mortifying as a slap in
+the face.
+
+The dark blood surged over the girl's cheeks. She drew a long, hard
+breath, and then said in a low voice,--
+
+"I think we will not quarrel, Louis. Will you get off at the next corner
+with me? I have a prescription to be made up at the drug-store."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+If Arnold had showed anger, he was man enough not to be ashamed of it;
+this is one of man's many lordly rights.
+
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+Mrs. Jules Levice was slowly gaining the high-road to recovery, and many
+of the restrictions for her cure had been removed. As a consequence,
+and with an eye ever to Ruth's social duties, she urged her to leave her
+more and more to herself.
+
+As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and his
+neighborhood before her father's consideration. A Jewish girl's life is
+an open page to her family. Matters of small as well as of larger moment
+are freely discussed. The result is that while it robs her of much of
+her Christian sister's spontaneity, which often is the latter's greatest
+charm, it also, through the sagacity of more experienced heads,
+guards her against many indiscretions. This may be a relic of European
+training, but it enables parents to instil into the minds of their
+daughters principles which compare favorable with the American girl's
+native self-reliance. It was as natural for Ruth to consult her father
+in this trivial matter, in view of Louis's disapproval, as it would be
+for her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to sally anywhere so long as she herself
+felt justified in so doing.
+
+Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering the
+matter, could find no objection, she went. After that it was enough to
+tell her mother that she was going to see Bob. Mrs. Levice had heard the
+doctor speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her way
+she was only too happy to forward.
+
+Bob's plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty under
+Ruth's deft fingers. A pot of mignonette in the window, a small painting
+of exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses,
+were the food she brought for his poet soul. But there were other
+substantial things.
+
+The day after she had replaced the coarse horse-blanket with a soft down
+quilt, the doctor made one of his bi-weekly visits to her mother.
+
+As he stood taking leave of Ruth on the veranda, he turned, with his
+foot on the last step, and looked up at her as if arrested by a sudden
+thought.
+
+"Miss Levice," said he, "I should like to give you a friendly scolding.
+May I?"
+
+"How can I prevent you?"
+
+"Well, if I were you I should not indulge Bob's love of luxury as you
+do. He positively refused to get up yesterday on account of the 'soft
+feel,' as he termed it, of that quilt. Now, you know, he must get up; he
+is able to, and in a week I wish to start him in to work again. Then he
+won't be able to afford such 'soft feels,' and he will rebel. He has had
+enough coddling for his own good. I really think it is mistaken kindness
+on your part, Miss Levice."
+
+The girl was leaning lightly against one of the supporting columns. A
+playful smile parted her lips as she listened.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she replied, "may I give you a little friendly scolding?"
+
+"You have every right." His tone was somewhat earnest, despite his
+smiling eyes. A man of thirty-five does not resent a friendly scolding
+from a winsome young girl.
+
+"Well, don't you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob of
+any pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wish
+it too, and will not be able to have it?"
+
+"As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wish
+you to see it as practically as I do. Put sentiment aside, and the
+only sensible thing to be done now is to prepare him for the hard,
+uncushioned facts of an active life."
+
+"But why must it be so hard for him?"
+
+"Why? In the face of the inevitable, that is a time-wasting, useless
+question. Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, the
+discovery will not alter the fact."
+
+"Yes, it will."
+
+"How?"
+
+"By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek a
+softer."
+
+"You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination,--circumstance."
+
+"And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove the
+strait-jacket?"
+
+Her lovely face looked very winning, filled with its kindly meaning.
+
+"Thank you," said he, raising his hat and forgetting to replace it as he
+spoke; "that is a gentle truth; some day we shall discuss this further.
+For the present, use your power in getting Bob upon his feet."
+
+"Yes." She gave a hurried glance at the door behind her, and ran quickly
+down to the lowest step. "Dr. Kemp," said she, a little breathlessly,
+"I have wished for some time to ask you to let me know when you have
+any cases that require assistance outside of a physician's,--such as
+my father or I might lend. You must have a broad field for such
+opportunities. Will you think of me then, please?"
+
+"I will," he replied, looking with amused pleasure at her flushed face.
+"Going in for philanthropy, Miss Levice?"
+
+"No; going out for it, thank you;" and she put her hand into his
+outstretched one. She watched him step into his carriage; he turned and
+raised his hat again,--a trifling circumstance that Ruth dwelt upon with
+pleasure; a second glance always presupposes an interested first.
+
+He did not fail to keep his promise; and once on the lookout for "cases"
+herself, Ruth soon found enough irons in the fire to occupy her spare
+moments.
+
+Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society.
+
+"A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people will
+either consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely. Don't be
+unreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy every
+function in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you. When
+he asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Friday
+night, I heard you say you did not know. Now why?"
+
+"Oh, that? I never gave it a second's thought. I promised Father to go
+with him in the afternoon; I did not consider it worth an explanation."
+
+"But, you see, I did. It looks very queer for Louis to be travelling
+around by himself; couldn't you go again in the evening with him?"
+
+"Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt. If the pictures are good, a second
+visit will not be thrown away,--that is, if Louis is really anxious for
+my companionship. But, 'I doubt it, I doubt it, I do.'"
+
+"What nonsense!" returned her mother, somewhat testily. "Why shouldn't
+he be? You are always amiable together, are you not?"
+
+"Well," she said, knitting her brows and pursing her lips drolly, "that,
+methinks, depends on the limits and requirements of amiability. If
+disputation showeth a friendly spirit, then is my lord overfriendly;
+for it oft hath seemed of late to pleasure his mood to wax disputations,
+though, in sooth, lady fair, I have always maintained a wary and
+decorous demeanor."
+
+"I can imagine," laughed her mother, a little anxiously; "then you will
+go?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice's
+exertions bore some fruit.
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with more
+enthusiastic theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco. The
+play was one of the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughly
+enjoyed. When a great star was heralded, he was in a feverish delight
+until it had come and gone. When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet little
+man fully earned the often indiscriminately applied title of "crazy
+Frenchman." A Frenchman is never so much one as when confronted in
+a foreign land with a great French creation; every fibre in his
+body answers each charm with an appreciation worked to fever-heat by
+patriotic love; at such times the play of his emotions precludes any
+idea of reason to an onlooker. Bernhardt was one of Levice's passions.
+Booth was another, though he took him more composedly. The first time
+the latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was "Hamlet") the
+Levices--that is, Ruth and her father--went three times in succession to
+witness his matchless performance, and every succeeding characterization
+but strengthened their enthusiasm.
+
+Booth was coming again. The announcement had been rapturously hailed by
+the Levices.
+
+"It will be impossible for us to go together, Father," Ruth remarked at
+the breakfast-table. "Louis will have to take me on alternate nights,
+while you stay at home with Mamma; did you hear, Louis?"
+
+"You will hardly need to do that," answered Arnold, lowering his cup;
+"if you and your father prefer going together, I shall enjoy staying
+with your mother on those nights."
+
+"Thanks for the offer--and your evident delight in my company," laughed
+Ruth; "but there is one play at which you must submit to the infliction
+of my presence. Don't you remember we always wished to see the 'Merchant
+of Venice' and judge for ourselves his interpretation of the character?
+Well, I am determined that we shall see it together."
+
+"When does he play it?"
+
+"A week from Saturday night."
+
+"Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be out of town at the end of next
+week."
+
+"Oh, dear? Honestly? Can't you put it off? I want so much to go."
+
+"Impossible. Go with your father."
+
+"You know very well neither of us would go off and leave Mamma alone at
+night. It is horrid of you to go. I am sure you could manage differently
+if--"
+
+"Why, my child!"
+
+She was actually pouting; and her father's quiet tone of surprised
+reprimand just headed off two great tears that threatened to fall.
+
+"I know," she said, trying to smile, and showing an April face instead;
+"but I had just set my heart on going, and with Louis too."
+
+"That comes of being a spoilt only child," put in Arnold, suavely.
+"You ought to know by this time that of the many plans we make with
+ourselves, nine out of ten come to nought. Before you set your heart on
+a thing, be sure you will not have to give it up."
+
+Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophic
+remark with a curled lip.
+
+"There, save your tears for something more worthy," cut in Levice,
+briskly; "if you care so much about it, we or chance must arrange it as
+you wish."
+
+But chance in this instance was not propitious. Wednesday came, and
+Arnold saw no way of accommodating her. He left town after taking her to
+see the "Fool's Revenge" as a sort of substitution.
+
+"You seemed to be enjoying the poor Fool's troubles last night,"
+observed Dr. Kemp, in the morning; they were still standing in Mrs.
+Levice's room.
+
+"I? Not enjoying his troubles; I enjoyed Booth, though,--if you can call
+it enjoyment when your heart is ready to break for him. Were you there?
+I did not see you."
+
+"No, I don't suppose you did, or you would have been in the pitiable
+condition of the princess who had her head turned. I sat directly back
+of your box, in the dress-circle. Then you like Booth?"
+
+"Take care! That is a dangerous subject with my family," broke in Mrs.
+Levice. "Ruth has actually exhausted every adjective in her admiration
+vocabulary. The last extravaganza I heard from her on that theme was
+after she had seen him as Brutus; she wished herself Lucius, that in the
+tent scene she might kiss Booth's hand."
+
+"It sounds gushing enough for a school-girl now," laughed Ruth merrily,
+looking up at the doctor; "but at the time I meant it."
+
+"Have you seen him in all his impersonations?" he asked.
+
+"In everything but 'Shylock.'"
+
+"You will have a chance for that on Saturday night. It will be a great
+farewell performance."
+
+"Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him."
+
+"Now, Doctor," cried Mrs. Levice, "will you please impress it on her
+that I am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear? She wishes
+to go Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the ground
+that I shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town. Is not that
+being unnecessarily solicitous?"
+
+"Without doubt. But," he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, "in lieu
+of a better escort, how would I do, Miss Levice?"
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Will you come with me Saturday night to see 'Shylock'?"
+
+To be candid, Ruth was embarrassed. The doctor had said neither "will
+you honor me" nor "will you please me," but he had both pleased and
+honored her. She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother. "Come
+now, Mrs. Levice," laughed Kemp, noting the action, "will you allow your
+little girl to go with me? Do not detain me with a refusal; it will be
+impossible to accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, you
+know. Good-morning."
+
+Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both
+of mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at his
+unexpected invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another
+and quite different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself.
+Mrs. Levice was in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the
+evening.
+
+"By all means, let her go," replied he; "why should you have had any
+misgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going."
+
+"But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their
+girls to go out with strangers."
+
+"Is that part of our religion?"
+
+"No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at every
+little innovation against convention."
+
+"What will they say? Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
+Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the
+child. If she wishes to go, don't set an impossible bogy in the way of
+her enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would
+if you said to the doctor, 'I can't let her go on account of people's
+tongues,' and that is the only honest excuse you can offer." So in his
+manly, practical way he decided it.
+
+On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale
+suede glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in her
+dull sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft
+dark hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed
+by the broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told
+that she was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kemp
+came in, his open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He came
+forward hastily.
+
+"I am a little late," he said, taking her hand, "but it was unavoidable.
+Ten minutes to eight," looking at his watch; "the horses must make good
+time."
+
+"It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?" asked Ruth, for want of
+something better to say as she turned for her wrap.
+
+"I did not feel it," he replied, intercepting her. "But this furry thing
+will keep the cold off, if there is any," he continued, as he held it
+for her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her
+throat. A strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so
+close her own.
+
+"How are your mother and father?" He asked, holding the door open, while
+she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.
+
+"They are as usual," she answered. "Father expects to see you after the
+play. You will come in for a little supper, will you not?"
+
+"That sounds alluring," he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking,
+as she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that
+seemed to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.
+
+It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.
+
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+Everybody remembers the sad old comedy, as differently interpreted in
+its graver sentiment as there are different interpreters. Ruth had
+seen one who made of Shylock merely a fawning, mercenary, loveless,
+blood-thirsty wretch. She had seen another who presented a man of quick
+wit, ready tongue, great dignity, greater vengeance, silent of love,
+wordy of hate. Booth, without throwing any romantic glamour on the Jew,
+showed him as God and man, but mostly man, had made him: an old Jew,
+grown bitter in the world's disfavor through fault of race; grown old in
+strife for the only worldly power vouchsafed him,--gold; grown old with
+but one human love to lighten his hard existence; a man who, at length,
+shorn of his two loves through the same medium that robbed him of his
+manly birthright, now turned fiend, endeavors with tooth and nail
+to wreak the smouldering vengeance of a lifetime upon the chance
+representative of an inexorable persecution.
+
+All through the performance Ruth sat a silent, attentive listener. Kemp,
+with his ready laugh at Gratiano's sallies, would turn a quick look at
+her for sympathy; he was rather surprised at the grave, unsmiling
+face beside him. When, however, the old Jew staggered alone and almost
+blindly from the triumphantly smiling court-room, a little pinch on his
+arm decidedly startled him.
+
+He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruth
+started.
+
+"Oh," she faltered, "I--I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were not
+Louis."
+
+"I do not mind in the least," he assured her easily.
+
+The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great things
+of life move slowly.
+
+As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, the
+latter thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whom
+turned an interested look at her stalwart escort. Of this she was
+perfectly aware, but the same human interest with which Kemp's
+acquaintances regarded her passed by her unnoticed.
+
+A moment later they were in the fresh, open air.
+
+"How beautiful it is!" said Ruth, looking up at the stars. "The wind has
+entirely died away."
+
+"'On such a night,'" quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, "a closed
+carriage seems out of season."
+
+"And reason," supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door rather
+slowly. She glanced at him hesitatingly.
+
+"Would you--" she began.
+
+"Right! I would!" The door was banged to.
+
+"John," he said, looking up at his man in the box, "take this trap round
+to the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night."
+
+John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion's little hand through
+his arm.
+
+"Well," he said, as they turned the corner, "Were you satisfied with the
+great man to-night?"
+
+"Yes," she replied meditatively, "fully; there was no exaggeration,--it
+was all quite natural."
+
+"Except Jessica in boy's clothes."
+
+"Don't mention her, please; I detest her."
+
+"And yet she spoke quite prettily on the night."
+
+"I did not hear her."
+
+"Why, where were you while all the world was making merry on the stage?"
+
+"Not with them; I was with the weary, heart-broken old man who passed
+out when joy began."
+
+"Ah! I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano's jesting. Miss
+Levice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take too
+strong a hold on you. It is not right. I assure you for every tear there
+is a laugh, and you must learn to forget the former in the latter."
+
+"I am sorry," replied Ruth, quite sadly; "but I fear I cannot learn
+that,--tears are always stronger than laughter. How could I listen to
+the others' nonsense when my heart was sobbing with that lonely old man?
+Forgive me, but I cannot forget him."
+
+They walked along silently for some time. Instinctively, each felt the
+perfect accord with which they kept step. Ruth's little ear was just
+about on a level with the doctor's chin. He hardly felt the soft touch
+of her hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile of
+her cheek against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she was
+there was a pleasing one.
+
+"Did you consider the length of our walk when you fell in with my
+desire?" he asked presently.
+
+"I like a long walk in pleasant weather; I never tire of walking."
+
+"You have found the essentials of a good pedestrian,--health and
+strength."
+
+"Yes; if everybody were like me, all your skill would be thrown away,--I
+am never ill."
+
+"Apparently there is no reason why you should be, with common-sense to
+back your blessings. If common-sense could be bought at the drug-store,
+I should be rid of a great many patients."
+
+"That reminds me of a snatch of conversation I once overheard between
+my mother and a doctor's wife. I am reminded of it because the spirit
+of your meaning is diametrically opposed to her own. After some talk my
+mother asked, 'And how is the doctor?' 'Oh,' replied the visitor, with
+a long sigh, 'he's well enough in body, but he's blue, terribly blue;
+everybody is so well, you know.'"
+
+"Her sentiment was more human than humane," laughed Kemp. He was glad to
+see that she had roused herself from her sad musings; but a certain set
+purpose he had formed robbed him now of his former lightness of manner.
+
+He was about to broach a subject that required delicate handling; but an
+intuitive knowledge of the womanly character of the young girl aided
+him much. It was not so much what he had seen her do as what he knew she
+was, that led him to begin his recital.
+
+"We have a good many blocks before us yet," he said, "and I am going to
+tell you a little story. Why don't you take the full benefit of my arm?
+There," he proceeded, drawing her hand farther through his arm, "now
+you feel more like a big girl than like a bit of thistledown. If I get
+tiresome, just call 'time,' will you?"
+
+"All right," she laughed. She was beginning to meet halfway this
+matter-of-fact, unadorned, friendly manner of his; and when she did meet
+it, she felt a comfortable security in it. From the beginning to the end
+of his short narrative he looked straight ahead.
+
+"How shall I begin? Do you like fairy tales? Well, this is the soul of
+one without the fictional wings. Once upon a time,--I think that is the
+very best introduction extant,--a woman was left a widow with one little
+girl. She lived in New Orleans, where the blow of her husband's death
+and the loss of her good fortune came almost simultaneously. She must
+have had little moral courage, for as soon as she could, she left her
+home, not being able to bear the inevitable falling off of friends
+that follows loss of fortune. She wandered over the intermediate States
+between here and Louisiana, stopping nowhere long, but endeavoring to
+keep together the bodies and souls of herself and child by teaching.
+They kept this up for years until the mother succumbed. They were on
+the way from Nevada to Los Angeles when she died. The daughter, then
+not eighteen, went on to Los Angeles, where she buried her mother, and
+endeavored to continue teaching as she had been doing. She was young,
+unsophisticated, sad, and in want in a strange town. She applied for
+advice to a man highly honored and recommended by his fellow-citizens.
+The man played the brute. The girl fled--anywhere. Had she been less
+brave, she would have fled from herself. She came to San Francisco and
+took a position as nurse-girl; children, she thought, could not play her
+false, and she might outlive it. The hope was cruel. She was living near
+my home, had seen my sign probably, and in the extremity of her distress
+came to me. There is a good woman who keeps a lodging-house, and who
+delights in doing me favors. I left the poor child in her hands, and she
+is now fully recovered. As a physician I can do no more for her, and yet
+melancholy has almost made a wreck of her. Nothing I say has any effect;
+all she answers is, 'It isn't worth while.' I understand her perfectly,
+but I wished to infuse into her some of her old spirit of independence.
+This morning I asked her if she intended to let herself drift on in
+this way. I may have spoken a little more harshly than necessary, for
+my words broke down completely the wall of dogged silence she had built
+around herself. 'Oh, sir,' she cried, weeping like the child she is,
+'what can I do? Can I dare to take little children by the hand, stained
+as I am? Can I go as an impostor where, if people knew, they would
+snatch their loved ones from me? Oh, it would be too wretched!' I tried
+to remonstrate with her, told her that the lily in the dust is no less
+a lily than is her spotless sister held high above contamination. She
+looked at me miserably from her tear-stained face, and then said, 'Men
+may think so, but women don't; a stain with them is ignoble whether made
+by one's self or another. No woman knowing my story would think me
+free from dishonor, and hold out her clean hands to me.' 'Plenty,' I
+contradicted. 'Maybe,' she said humbly; 'but what would it mean? The
+hand would be held out at arm's length by women safe in their position,
+who would not fail to show me how debased they think me. I am young yet;
+can you show me a girl, like myself in years, but white as snow, kept
+safe from contamination, as you say, who, knowing my story, would hold
+out her hand to me and not feel herself besmirched by the contact? Do
+not say you can, for I know you cannot.' She was crying so violently
+that she would not listen to me. When I left her, I myself could think
+of none of my young friends to whom I could propound the question. I
+know many sweet, kind girls, but I could count not one among them all
+who in such a case would be brave as she was womanly--until I thought of
+you."
+
+Complete silence followed his words. He did not turn his glance from the
+street ahead of him. He had made no appeal, would make none, in fact. He
+had told the story with scarcely a reflection on its impropriety, that
+would have arrested another man from introducing such an element into
+his gentle fellowship with a girl like Ruth. His lack of hesitancy
+was born of his manly view of the outcast's blamelessness, of her dire
+necessity for help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be as
+free from the artificiality of conventional surface modesty as was he,
+through the earnestness of the undertaking.
+
+There is something very sweet to a woman in being singled out by a man
+for some ennobling virtue. Ruth felt this so strongly that she could
+almost hear her heart beat with the intoxicating knowledge. No question
+had been asked, but she felt an answer was expected. Yet had her life
+depended on it, the words could not have come at that moment. Was she
+indeed what he esteemed her? Unconsciously Dr. Kemp had, in thought,
+placed her on a pedestal. Did she deserve the high place he had given
+her, or would she?
+
+With many women the question would have been, did she care for Dr.
+Kemp's good opinion? Now, though Ruth was indeed put on her mettle, her
+quick sympathy had been instantly touched by the girl's miserable story.
+Perhaps the doctor's own feelings had influenced her, but had the girl
+stood before her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with all
+her own gentle nobility of soul.
+
+As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth's house stood, Kemp
+said deliberately,--
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I thank you. Where does she live?"
+
+Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughts
+within. They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gate
+before he answered. When he did, after they had passed through, he took
+both her hands in his.
+
+"I shall take you there," he said, looking down at her with grave,
+smiling eyes; "I knew you would not fail me. When shall I call for you?"
+
+"Do not call for me at all; I think--I know it will be better for me to
+walk in alone, as of my own accord."
+
+"Ah, yes!" he said, and told her the address. She ran lightly up the
+steps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pair
+of starry eyes to his.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she said, "I have had an exceptionally lovely evening. I
+shall not soon forget it."
+
+"Nor I," he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gently
+raised her gloved hand to his lips. Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of the
+old school in his manner of showing reverence to women.
+
+"My brave young friend!" he said; and the next minute his firm footfall
+was crunching the gravel of the walk. Neither of them had remembered
+that he was to have come in with her. She waited till the gate clicked
+behind him, and then softly closed the heavy door.
+
+"My brave young friend!" The words mounted like wine to her head. She
+forgot her surroundings and stood in a sweet dream in the hall, slowly
+unbuttoning her glove. She must have remained in this attitude for five
+minutes, when, raising her eyes, still shadowy with thought, she saw her
+cousin before her down the hall, his arm resting on the newel-post.
+
+"Louis!" she cried in surprise; and without considering, she hurried to
+him, threw her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Arnold,
+taken by storm, stepped slightly back.
+
+"When did you get home?" she asked, the pale rose-flush that mantled her
+cheeks making her face exquisite.
+
+"A half an hour ago."
+
+She looked at him quickly.
+
+"Are you tired, Louis?" she inquired gently. "You are somewhat pale, and
+you speak in that way."
+
+"Did you enjoy the play?" he asked quietly, passing by her remarks.
+
+"The play!" she echoed, and then a quick burning blush suffused
+her face. The epilogue had wholly obliterated the play from her
+recollection.
+
+"Oh, of course," she responded, turning from the rather sardonic smile
+of his lips and seating herself on the stairs; "do you want to hear
+about it now?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well," she began, laying her gloves in her lap and snuggling her chin
+in the palms of her hands, "shall I tell you how I felt about it? In
+the first place, I was not ashamed of Shylock; if his vengeance was
+distorted, the cause distorted it. But, oh, Louis, the misery of that
+poor old man! After all, his punishment was as fiendish as his guilt.
+Booth was great. I wish you could have seen the play of his wonderful
+eyebrow and the eloquence of his fine hand. Poor old, lonely Shylock!
+With all his intellect, how could he regret that wretched little
+Jessica?"
+
+"He was a Jewish father."
+
+"How singularly you say that! Of course he was a Jew; but Jewish hardly
+describes him,--at least, according to the modern idea. Are you coming
+up?"
+
+"Yes. Go on; I will lower the gas."
+
+"Wouldn't you like something to eat or drink? You look so worn out; let
+me get you something."
+
+"Thanks; I have dined. Good-night." The girl passed on to her pretty
+white and gold room. Shylock had again fled from her memory, but there
+was singing in her heart a deep, grave voice saying,--
+
+"My brave young friend!"
+
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+"A humble bard presents his respects to my Lady Marechal Niel, and begs
+her to step down to the gate for about two minutes."
+
+The note was handed to Ruth early the next morning as she stood in the
+kitchen beating up eggs for an omelette for her mother's breakfast. A
+smile of mingled surprise and amusement overspread her face as she
+read; instinctively turning the card, she saw, "Herbert Kemp, M. D.," in
+simple lithograph.
+
+"Do I look all right, Mary?" she asked hurriedly, placing the bowl on
+the table and half turning to the cook as she walked to the door. Mary
+deliberately placed both hands on her hips and eyed her sharply.
+
+"And striped flannel dresses and hairs in braids," she began, as she
+always did, as if continuing a thought, "being nice, pretty flannel and
+nice, pretty braids, Miss Ruth do look sweet-like, which is nothing out
+of the common, for she always do!"
+
+The last was almost shouted after Ruth, who had run from the cook's
+prolixity.
+
+As she hurried down the walk, she recognized the doctor's carriage,
+containing the doctor himself with Bob in state beside him. Two hands
+went up to two respective hats as the gate swung behind her, and she
+advanced with hand extended to Bob.
+
+"You are looking much better," she exclaimed heartily, shaking the
+rather bashfully outstretched hand; "your first outing, is it not?"
+
+"Yes, lady." It had been impossible for her to make him call her by
+name.
+
+"He elected to pay his first devoirs to the Queen of Roses, as he
+expressed it," spoke up Kemp, with his disengaged hand on the boy's
+shoulder, and looking with a puzzled expression at Ruth. Last night she
+had been a young woman; this morning she was a young girl; it was
+only after he had driven off that he discovered the cause lay in the
+arrangement of her hair.
+
+"Thank you, Bob; presently I expect to have you paying me a visit on
+foot, when we can come to a clearer understanding about my flower-beds."
+
+"He says," returned the boy, turning an almost humbly devoted look on
+Kemp, "that I must not think of gardening for some weeks. And so--and
+so--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And so," explained the doctor, briskly, "he is going to hold my
+reins on our rounds, and imbibe a world of sunshine to expend on some
+flowers--yours or mine, perhaps--by and by."
+
+Bob's eyes were luminous with feeling as they rested on the dark,
+bearded face of his benefactor.
+
+"Now say all you have to say, and we'll be off," said Kemp, tucking in
+the robe at Bob's side.
+
+"I didn't have anything to say, sir; I came only to let her know."
+
+"And I am so glad, Bob," said Ruth, smiling up into the boy's shy,
+speaking eyes. People always will try to add to the comfort of a
+convalescent, and Ruth, in turn, drew down the robe over the lad's
+hands. As she did so, her cousin, Jennie Lewis, passed hurriedly by. Her
+quick blue eyes took in to a detail the attitudes of the trio.
+
+"Good-morning, Jennie," said Ruth, turning; "are you coming in?"
+
+"Not now," bowing stiffly and hurrying on.
+
+"Cabbage-rose."
+
+Bob delivered himself of this sentiment as gently as if he had let fall
+a pearl.
+
+The doctor gave a quick look at Ruth, which she met, smiling.
+
+"He cannot help his inspiration," she remarked easily, and stepped back
+as the doctor pulled the reins.
+
+"Come again, Bob," she called, and with a smile to Kemp she ran in.
+
+"And I was going to say," continued Mary, as she re-entered the kitchen,
+"that a speck of aig splashed on your cheek, Miss Ruth."
+
+"Oh, Mary, where?"
+
+"But not knowin' that you would see anybody, I didn't think to run after
+you; so it's just this side your mouth, like if you hadn't wiped it good
+after breakfast."
+
+Ruth rubbed it off, wondering with vexation if the doctor had noticed
+it. Truth to say, the doctor had noticed it, and naturally placed the
+same passing construction on it that Mary had suggested. Not that the
+little yellow splash occupied much of his attention. When he drove
+off, all he thought of Ruth's appearance was that her braided hair hung
+gracefully and heavily down her back; that she looked young,--decidedly
+young and missish; and that he had probably spoken indiscreetly and
+impulsively to the wrong person on a wrong subject the night before.
+
+Dress has a subtile influence upon our actions: one gown can make a
+romp, another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette,
+out of the same woman. The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to the
+fitness or unfitness of dress. Now, Ruth was without doubt the same
+girl who had so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor's
+unconventional story; but the fashion of her gown had changed the
+impression she had made a few hours back.
+
+An hour later, and Dr. Kemp could not have failed to recognize Ruth,
+the woman of his confidence. Something, perhaps a dormant spirit of
+worldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of her
+going out. She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisability
+of her action; but the certain knowledge of her mother's disapproval of
+such a proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, would
+have cost her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act. A bit of subterfuge
+which hurts no one is often not only excusable, but commendable.
+Besides, it saved her mother an annoying controversy; and so, fully
+satisfied as to her part, Ruth took her way down the street. The
+question as to whether the doctor had gone beyond the bounds of their
+brief acquaintance had of course been presented to her mind; but if a
+slight flush came into her face when she remembered the nature of the
+narrative and the personality of the narrator, it was quickly banished
+by the sweet assurance that in this way he had honored her beyond the
+reach of current flattery.
+
+A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave brown
+eyes; with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, and
+she longed to do it well. Her purpose robbed her of every trace of
+nervousness; and it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knocked
+at room Number 10 on the second floor of a respectable lodging-house on
+Polk Street.
+
+Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly.
+At this a tired voice called, "Come in."
+
+She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in
+a small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near the
+window, but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to
+be a golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the
+chair, and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruth
+hesitated after closing the door behind her, she found a pair of
+listless violet eyes regarding her from a small white face.
+
+"Well?" queried the girl, without changing her position except to allow
+her gaze to travel to the floor.
+
+"You are Miss Rose Delano?" said Ruth, as she came a step nearer.
+
+"What of that?" Asked the girl, lifelessly, her dull eyes wandering
+everywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor.
+
+"I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp. Will that introduction be
+enough to make you shake hands with me?"
+
+She advanced toward her, holding out her hand. A burning flame shot
+across Rose Delano's face, and she shrank farther back among her
+pillows.
+
+"No," she said, putting up a repellent hand; "it is not enough. Do not
+touch me, or you will regret it. You must not, I say." She arose quickly
+from her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth. The latter, taller than
+she by head and shoulders, looked down at her smiling.
+
+"I know no reason why I must not," she replied gently.
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"No; but I know of you."
+
+"Then why did you come; why don't you go?" The blue eyes looked with
+passionate resentment at her.
+
+"Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands with
+you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why do you wish to do that?"
+
+"Because I wish to be your friend. May we not be friends? I am not much
+older than you, I think."
+
+"You are centuries younger. Who sent you here? Dr. Kemp?"
+
+"No one sent me; I came of my own free will."
+
+"Then go as you came."
+
+"No."
+
+She stood gracefully and quietly before her. Rose Delano moved farther
+from her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes.
+
+"You do not know what you are doing," cried the girl, excitedly; "have
+you no father or mother, no one to tell you what a girl should not do?"
+
+"I have both; but I have also a friend,--Dr. Kemp."
+
+"He is my friend too," affirmed Rose, tremulously.
+
+"Then we have one good thing in common; and since he is my friend and
+yours, why should we not be friends?"
+
+"Because he is a man, and you are a woman. He has then told you my
+story?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here--to such a creature as
+I?"
+
+"I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you. But, oh, little
+one, I do so grieve for you because you won't believe that the world is
+not all merciless. Come, give me your hand."
+
+"No," she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as the
+other advanced; "go away, please. You are very good, but you are very
+foolish. Bad as I am, however, I shall not let you harm yourself more;
+leave my room, please."
+
+"Not till I have held your hands in mine."
+
+"Stop! I tell you I don't want you to come here; I don't want your
+friendship. Can't you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheart
+will upbraid you if you fail to carry out his will?"
+
+"My sweetheart?" she asked in questioning wonder.
+
+"Yes; only a lover could make a girl like you so forget herself. I speak
+of Dr. Kemp."
+
+"But he is not my lover," she stated, still speaking gently, but with a
+pale face turned to her companion.
+
+"I--I--beg your pardon," faltered the girl, humbly drooping her head,
+shamed by the cold pride in her tormentor's face; "but why, oh, why,
+then, won't you go?" she continued, wildly sobbing. "I assure you it is
+best."
+
+"This is best," said Ruth, deliberately; and before Rose knew it she had
+seized her two hands, and unclasping them from behind her, drew them to
+her own breast.
+
+"Now," she said, holding them tightly, "who is the stronger, you or I?"
+She looked pleasantly down at the tear-stained face so close to hers.
+
+"O God!" breathed the girl, her storm-beaten eyes held by the power of
+her captor's calmness.
+
+"Now we are friends," said Ruth, softly, "shall we sit down and talk?"
+
+Still holding the slender hands, she drew up a chair, and seating the
+frail girl in the armchair, sat down beside her.
+
+"Oh, wait!" whispered Rose; "let me tell you everything before you make
+me live again."
+
+"I know everything; and truly, Rose, nothing you can say could make me
+wish to befriend you less."
+
+"How nobly, how kindly he must have told you!"
+
+"Hush! He told me nothing but the truth. To me you are a victim, not a
+culprit. And now, tell me, do you feel perfectly strong?"
+
+"Oh, yes." The little hand swept in agony over her sad, childish face.
+
+"Then you ought to go out for a nice walk. You have no idea how pleasant
+it is this morning."
+
+"I can't, indeed I can't! and, oh, why should I?"
+
+"You can and you must, because you must go to work soon."
+
+Two frightened eyes were raised to hers.
+
+"Yes," she added, patting the hand she held; "you are a teacher, are you
+not?"
+
+"I was," she replied, the catch in her voice still audible.
+
+"What are you used to teaching?"
+
+"Spanish, and English literature."
+
+"Spanish--with your blue eyes!" The sudden outburst of surprise sent a
+faint April-like beam into Rose's face.
+
+"Si, Senorita."
+
+"Then you must teach me. Let me see. Wednesdays,--Wednesday afternoon,
+yes?"
+
+Again the frightened eyes appealed to her; but Ruth ignored them.
+
+"And so many of my friends would like to speak Spanish. Will you teach
+them too?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Levice, how can I go with such a past?"
+
+"I tell you," said Ruth, proudly rearing her head, "if I introduce you
+as my friend, you are, you must be, presentable."
+
+The pale lips strove to answer her.
+
+"To-morrow I shall come with a number of names of girls who are 'dying,'
+as they say, to speak Spanish, and then you can go and make arrangements
+with them. Will you?"
+
+Thus pushed to the wall, Rose's tear-filled eyes were her only answer.
+
+Ruth's own filled in turn.
+
+"Dear little Rose," she said, her usual sweet voice coming back to her,
+"won't it be lovely to do this? You will feel so much better when you
+once get out and are earning your independent, pleasant living again.
+And now will you forgive me for having been so harsh?"
+
+"Forgive you!" A red spot glowed on each pallid cheek; she raised her
+eyes and said with simple fervor, "I would die for you."
+
+"No, but you may live for me," laughed Ruth, rising; "will you promise
+me to go out this morning, just for a block or two?"
+
+"I promise you."
+
+"Well, then, good-by." She held out her hand meaningly; a little
+fluttering one was placed in hers, and Ruth bent and kissed the wistful
+mouth. That pure kiss would have wiped out every stain from Rose's
+worshipping soul.
+
+"I shall see you to-morrow surely," she called back, turning a radiant
+face to the lonely little figure in the doorway. She felt deliriously
+happy as she ran down the stairs; her eyes shone like stars; a buoyant
+joyfulness spoke in her step.
+
+"It is so easy to be happy when one has everything," she mused. She
+forgot to add, "And gives much." There is so much happiness derived from
+a kind action that were it not for the motive, charity might be called
+supreme selfishness.
+
+
+
+Chapter XI.
+
+She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged to
+take Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been ill
+and was in want.
+
+"And I was thinking," she added with naive policy, "that I might combine
+a little business with pleasure this afternoon,--pay off some of those
+ever urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time try
+to get up a class of pupils for Miss Delano. What do you think?"
+
+"That would be nice; don't forget Mrs. Bunker. I know you don't like
+her, but you must pay a call for the musical which we did not attend;
+and she has children who might like to learn Spanish. I wonder if I
+could take lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet so
+old but I may learn."
+
+"You might ask the doctor. He has almost dismissed himself now; and
+after we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in a
+class. Mother and daughter can then go to school together."
+
+"It is very fortunate," Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping her
+necessary glass of port, "that C---- sent your hat this morning to wear
+with your new gown. Isn't it?"
+
+"Fortunate!" Ruth exclaimed, laughing banteringly; "it is destiny."
+
+So Mrs. Levice slipped easily into Ruth's plan from a social standpoint,
+and Ruth slipped out, trim and graceful, from her mother's artistic
+manipulations.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till her
+husband's return, which promised to be early in the afternoon.
+
+She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis came
+bustling in. Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; one
+looked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which one
+anticipates the latest number of a society journal.
+
+"Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther," she said after they had
+exchanged greetings. "I have brought my work, so I shall not mind the
+quiet in the least."
+
+"As if I would bore you in that way!" returned Mrs. Levice, with a
+laughing glance at her, as she closed her desk. "Lay off your things,
+and let us have a downright comfortable afternoon. Don't forget a single
+sensation; I am actually starving for one."
+
+Mrs. Lewis smiled grimly as she fluffed up her bang with her hat-pin.
+She drew up a second cosey rocking-chair near her aunt's, drew out her
+needle and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, her
+tongue soon acquired its accustomed momentum.
+
+"Where is Ruth?" she began, winding her thread round her chubby,
+ring-bedecked finger.
+
+"She is paying off some calls for a change."
+
+"Indeed! Got down to conventionality again?" "You would not call her
+unconventional, would you?"
+
+"Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion."
+
+Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly. Without doubt there was an
+underground mine beneath this non-committal remark. Mrs. Lewis rocked
+violently backward and forward without raising her eyes. Her face was
+beet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent. Mrs. Levice
+waited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousin
+disapproved of so obviously. She like Jennie; every one who knew her
+recognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew her
+agreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, to
+Mrs. Lewis's imagination, and these airy comfits were passed around
+promiscuously to whoever was on hand. Not a sound broke the portentous
+silence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needle
+through, and the hurricane she raised with her rocking.
+
+"I was at the theatre last night."
+
+The blow drew no blood.
+
+"Which theatre?" asked Mrs. Levice, innocently.
+
+"The Baldwin; Booth played the 'Merchant of Venice.'"
+
+"Did you enjoy it?" queried her aunt, either evading or failing to
+perceive the meaning.
+
+"I did." A pause, and then, "Did Ruth?"
+
+Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at no
+perturbation.
+
+"Very much. Booth is her actor-idol, you know."
+
+"So I have heard." She spread her crochet work on her knee as if
+measuring its length, then with striking indifference picked it up again
+and adjusted her needle,--
+
+"She came in rather late, didn't she?"
+
+"Did she?" questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirect
+thrusts. "I did not know; had the curtain risen?"
+
+"No; there was plenty of time for every one to recognize her."
+
+"I had no idea she was so well known."
+
+"Those who did not know her, knew her escort. Dr. Kemp is well known,
+and his presence is naturally remarked."
+
+"Yes; his appearance is very striking."
+
+"Aunt Esther!" The vehemence of Mrs. Lewis's feelings sent her ball of
+cotton rolling to the other end of the room.
+
+"My dear, what is it?" Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interested
+eyes on her niece.
+
+"You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruth
+with Dr. Kemp."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman but
+Uncle or Louis, and we all were surprised. The Hoffmans sat behind us,
+and Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant. I met several
+acquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made some
+remark about Ruth. One said, 'I had no idea the Levices were so intimate
+with Dr. Kemp;' another young girl laughed and said, 'Ruth Levice had a
+swell escort last night, didn't she?' Still another asked, 'Anything on
+the tapis in your family, Mrs. Lewis?' And what could I say?"
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+Mrs. Levice's quiet tone did not betray her vexation. She had feared
+just such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but her
+husband's views had overruled hers, and she was now bound to uphold his.
+Nevertheless, she hated anything of the kind.
+
+"I simply said I knew nothing at all about it, except that he was your
+physician. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have said more."
+
+"There is no more to be said. Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendly
+through their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in the
+course of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious to
+see this play, and had no escort. So he asked her, and her father saw
+no objection to her going. It is a pity she didn't think to hand round a
+written explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre."
+
+"There you go, Aunt Esther! Jewish friends! I am sure that no matter how
+indifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewish
+girls never go alone to the theatre with any one outside of the family,
+and certainly not with a Christian."
+
+"What has that to do with it, so long as he is a gentleman?"
+
+"Nothing. Only I didn't think you cared to have Ruth's name coupled with
+one."
+
+"No, nor with any one. But as I cannot control people's tongues--"
+
+"Then I would not give them cause for wagging. Aunt Esther, is there
+anything between Ruth and Dr. Kemp?"
+
+"Jennie, you surprise and anger me. Do you know what you insinuate?"
+
+"I can't help it. Either you are crazy, or ignorant of what is going on,
+and I consider it my duty to enlighten you,"--a gossip's duties are all
+away from home,--"unless, of course, you prefer to remain in blissful or
+wilful ignorance."
+
+"Speak out, please."
+
+"Of course I knew you must have sanctioned her going last night, though,
+I must confess, I still think you did very wrongly; but do you know
+where she went this morning?"
+
+Mrs. Levice was put out. She was enough of a Jewess to realize that
+if you dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowly
+conventional Jewish pathway. That Ruth, her only daughter, should be
+the subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; but
+that her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed her
+beyond endurance.
+
+"I do know," she said in response to the foregoing question. "Ruth is
+not a sneak,--she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mild
+that there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on a
+poor young girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish."
+
+"A friend of Dr. Kemp."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate,
+lost her child at its birth."
+
+The faint flush on Mrs. Levice's cheek receded.
+
+"Who told you this?" she questioned in an even, low voice.
+
+"I thought you could not know. Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girl
+lives, told me."
+
+"And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?"
+
+"I will tell you. Mrs. Blake does my white sewing. I was there this
+morning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving another
+farther down the hall. Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room,
+and she told me the story."
+
+"Naturally." The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis's face.
+
+"For me it was; and in this case," she retorted with rising accents, "my
+vulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account of
+the girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth is
+the only visitor she has had."
+
+"I am sorry to hear this, Jennie."
+
+"I know you are, Aunt Esther. But what I find so very queer is that Dr.
+Kemp, who pretends to be her friend,--and I have seen them together many
+times,--should have sent her there. Don't you?"
+
+"I do not understand it at all,--neither Ruth nor him."
+
+"Surely you don't think Ruth knew anything of this?" questioned Mrs.
+Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
+
+"Of course not," returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely. She had long ago
+acknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter's nature
+that she had never gauged.
+
+"I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a man
+nevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck me
+as very suggestive that he was that girl's only friend."
+
+"Therefore he must have been a good friend."
+
+Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr.
+Levice, who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Levice
+breathed a sigh of hysterical relief.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Jennie," he said, coming into the room and shaking her
+hand; "sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;" he stooped to kiss his
+wife.
+
+Mrs. Lewis's hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed. She
+had been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the head
+and pride of the whole family.
+
+"I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you are
+so poor as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which you
+evidently know nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views to
+yourself." It was the habit of all of Levice's relatives to listen in
+silence to any personal reprimand the dignified old man might offer.
+
+"I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterize
+it as--petty. Can't you and your friends see anything without springing
+at shilling-shocker conclusions? Don't you know that people sometimes
+enjoy themselves without any further design? So much for the theatre
+talk. What is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge my
+honorable friend, Dr. Kemp. Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be as
+remote from Dr. Kemp's possibilities as the antipodes. Remember, what I
+say is indisputable. Whether Ruth knew the story of this girl or not,
+I cannot say, but either way I feel assured that what she did was
+well done--if innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better. And I
+venture to assert that she is not a whit harmed by the action. In
+all probability she will tell us all the particulars if we ask her.
+Otherwise, Jennie, don't you think you have been unnecessarily alarmed?"
+The benign gentleness of his question calmed Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"Uncle," she replied earnestly, "in my life such things are not
+trivial; perhaps because my life is narrower. I know you and Ruth take a
+different view of everything."
+
+"Don't disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradicted
+or to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared to
+change them. A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the level
+of a spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, for
+it is more deadly than a sword. Your higher interests should make you
+overlook every little action of your neighbors. You only see or hear
+what takes place when the window is open; you can never judge from this
+what takes place when the window is shut. How are the children?"
+
+By dint of great tenderness he strove to make her more at ease.
+
+Ruth, confronted with their knowledge, confessed, with flushed cheeks
+and glowing eyes, her contretemps.
+
+"And," she said in conclusion, "Father, Mamma, nothing you can say will
+make me retract anything I have done or purpose doing."
+
+"Nothing?" repeated her father.
+
+"I hope you won't ask me to, but that is my decision."
+
+"My darling, I dislike to hear you call yourself a mule," said her
+father, looking at her with something softer than disapproval; "but in
+this case I shall not use the whip to turn you from your purpose. Eh,
+Esther?"
+
+"It is Quixotic," affirmed Mrs. Levice; "but since you have gone so far,
+there is no reasonable way of getting out of it. When next I see the
+doctor, I shall speak to him of it."
+
+"There will be no occasion, dear," remonstrated the indulgent father, at
+sight of the annoyed flash in Ruth's eyes; "I shall."
+
+By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not so
+smooth as one of many children may think; every action of the former
+assumes such prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and very
+often sent to Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-lucky
+offspring has his little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked,
+through the propinquity of others.
+
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+If Ruth, in the privacy of her heart, realized that she was sailing
+toward dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears.
+Possibly she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smooth
+stream of delight. When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warning
+black lurking in the far horizon. Without doubt the girl's soul and
+sympathies were receiving their proper food. Life was full for her, not
+because she was occupied,--for a busy life does not always prove a
+full one,--but because she entered thoroughly into the lives of others,
+struggled with their struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and was
+beginning to see in everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence.
+Under ordinary circumstances one cannot see much misery without
+experiencing a world of disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; but
+Ruth was not living just at that time under ordinary circumstances.
+
+Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that made
+her pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twin
+dreamstars. She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard save
+only by herself. At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly name
+to herself the meaning of it all, a puritanic modesty withheld her.
+Yet all the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banish
+from her memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light that
+fell from eyes that glanced at her. For the present, these were grace
+sufficient for her daily need. Given the perfume, what need to name the
+flower?
+
+Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in their
+different ways. Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she was
+growing more softly beautiful. Her father, holding his hands a few
+inches from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzled
+look, "I am afraid to touch you; sparks might fly."
+
+Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her hands
+clasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting in
+the witchery of their expression. By some occult power her glance
+fell unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement and
+speculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands went
+swiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, and
+she passed quickly from the room. Arnold sat down to solve this problem
+of an unknown quantity.
+
+Ruth's birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting with
+Rose Delano.
+
+The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consisted
+only in making the day pass pleasantly for the one whose day of days it
+was,--a graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one for
+all concerned.
+
+On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in her
+element. She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had worn
+five years before on the occasion of some festivity. The girlish fashion
+of the white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, the
+round baby waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child of
+her.
+
+"Who can imagine me seventeen?" she asked gayly as she entered the
+library, softly lighted by many wax candles. Her mother, who was again
+enjoying the freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced in
+her own particular chair, looked up at her.
+
+"That little frock makes me long to take you in my lap," said she,
+brightly.
+
+"And it makes me long to be there," answered Ruth, throwing herself into
+her mother's arms and twining her arms about her neck.
+
+"How now, Mr. Arnold, you can't scare me tonight with your sarcastic
+disapproval!" she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousin
+seated in a deep blue-cushioned chair.
+
+"I have no desire to scare you, little one," he answered pleasantly. "I
+only do that to children or grown-up people."
+
+"And what am I, pray, good sir?"
+
+"You are neither; you are neither child or woman; you are neither flesh
+nor spirit; you are uncanny."
+
+"Dear me! In other words, I am a conundrum. Who will guess me?"
+
+"You are the Sphinx," replied her cousin.
+
+"I won't be that ugly-faced thing," she retorted; "guess again."
+
+"Impossible. Once acquire a sphinx's elusiveness and you are a mystery
+perpetual. You alone can unriddle the riddle."
+
+"I can't. I give myself up."
+
+"Not so fast, young woman," broke in her father, shutting his magazine
+and settling his glasses more firmly upon his nose; "that is an office I
+alone can perform. Who has been hunting on my preserves?"
+
+"Alas! They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score." She sat
+up with a forlorn sigh, adding, "Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and
+not a heart to hang on my chatelaine."
+
+"Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays," said Louis, reassuringly;
+"I am sure you have mittened one or two."
+
+"Oh, yes," she answered, laughing evasively, "both of little Toddie
+Flynn's. Mamma, don't you think I am too big a baby for you to hold
+long?" She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father's chair,
+exclaimed,--
+
+"Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it
+short and sweet and with a moral like you."
+
+Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.
+
+"Once upon a time," he began, "a little boy went into his father's
+warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but he
+was so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him. That is short and sweet;
+and what is the moral?"
+
+"Selfishness brings misery," answered Ruth, promptly; "clever of both of
+us, but what is the analogy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feel
+as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights."
+
+"And get scorched for my pains? Thanks; this is very comfortable.
+Distance adds to illusion."
+
+"You don't mean to admit you have any illusions, do you? Why, those
+glasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Did
+you ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?"
+
+"Yes; there is a standing institution of whose honest value there is no
+doubt."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"My bed."
+
+"After all, it is a lying institution, my friend; and are you not
+deposing your masculine muse,--your cigar? Oh, that reminds me of the
+annual peace-pipe."
+
+She jumped up, snatched a candle, and left the room. As she turned
+toward the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell.
+She stood quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid opened
+the door.
+
+"Is Miss Levice in?" asked the voice that made the little candle-light
+seem like myriads of swimming stars. As the maid answered in the
+affirmative, she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancing
+eyes of Dr. Kemp.
+
+"Good-evening," she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which he
+grasped and shook heartily.
+
+"Is it Santa Filomena?" he asked, smiling into her eyes.
+
+"No, only Ruth Levice, who is pleased to see you. Will you step into the
+library? We are having a little home evening together."
+
+"Thank you. Directly." He slipped out of his topcoat, and turning
+quietly to her, said, "But before we go in, and I enact the odd number,
+I wish to say a few words to you alone, please."
+
+She bent a look of inquiry upon him, and meeting the gaze of his
+compelling eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room. He
+noticed how the soft light she held made her the only white spot in the
+dark room, till, touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo over
+everything. That it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at a
+glance.
+
+She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself in
+a quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread like
+hands of blessing above her head. The doctor declined to sit down, but
+stood with one hand upon the fragile table and looked down at her.
+
+"I am inclined to think, after all," he said slowly, "that you are in
+truth the divine lady with the light. It is a pretty name and a pretty
+fame,--that of Santa Filomena."
+
+What had come over her eyelids that they refused to be raised?
+
+"I think," he continued with a low laugh, "that I shall always call you
+so, and have all rights reserved. May I?"
+
+"I am afraid," she answered, raising her eyes, "that your poem would
+be without rhyme or reason; a candle is too slight a thing for such an
+assumption."
+
+"But not a Rose Delano. I saw her to-day, and at least one sufferer
+would turn to kiss your shadow. Do you know what a wonderfully beautiful
+thing you have done? I came to-night to thank you; for any one who makes
+good our ideals is a subject for thanks. Of course, the thing had no
+personal bearing upon myself; but being an officious fellow, I thought
+it proper to let you know that I know. That is my only excuse for
+coming."
+
+"Did you need an excuse?"
+
+"That, or an invitation."
+
+"Oh, I never thought of you--as--as--"
+
+"As a man?"
+
+How to answer this? Then finally she said,--
+
+"As caring to waste an evening."
+
+"Would it be a waste? There is an old adage that one might adapt, then,
+'A wilful waste makes a woful want.' Want is a bad thing, so economy
+would not be a half-bad idea. Shall we go in to your family now, or will
+they not think you have been spirited away?"
+
+He took the candle from her, and they retraced their steps. As she
+turned the handle of the door, she said,--
+
+"Will you give me the candle, please, and walk in? I am going upstairs."
+
+"Are you coming down again?" he asked, standing abruptly still.
+
+"Oh, yes. Father," she called, opening wide the door, "here is Dr.
+Kemp."
+
+With this announcement she fled up the staircase.
+
+She had come up for some cigars; but when she got into her father's
+room, she seated herself blindly and looked aimlessly down at her hands.
+What a blessed reprieve this was! If she could but stay here! She could
+if it were not for the peace-pipe. Such a silly performance too! Father
+kept those superfine cigars over in the cabinet there. Should she bring
+only two as usual? Then she was going? Why not? It would look very rude
+not to do so. Besides, she wondered what they were talking about. She
+supposed she must have looked very foolish in that gown with her hair
+all mussed; and then his eyes---- She arose suddenly and walked to the
+dressing-table with her light. After all, it was not very unbecoming.
+Had her face been so white all the evening? Louis liked her face to be
+colorless. Oh, she had better hurry down.
+
+"Here comes the chief!" cried her mother as she entered. "Now, Doctor,
+you can see the native celebrating her natal day."
+
+"She enacts the witch," said her father "and sends us, living, to the
+happy hunting-grounds. Will you join us, Doctor?"
+
+"If Lachesis thinks me worthy. Is the operation painful?"
+
+He received no answer as Ruth came forward with a box of tempting
+Havanas. She selected one, and placing the box on a chair, reached to
+the high-tiled mantel-shelf, whence she took a tiny pair of scissors and
+deftly cut off the point of the cigar. She seemed quite unconscious that
+all were watching her. Louis handed her a lighted match, and putting the
+cigar between her lips, she lit it into life. The doctor was amused.
+
+She blew up a wreath of the fragrant smoke and handing it to her father,
+said,--
+
+"With this year's love, Father."
+
+The doctor grew interested.
+
+She took another, and lighting it as gracefully, and without the
+slightest approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis's outstretched
+hand.
+
+"Well?" he suggested, holding it from his lips till she had spoken.
+
+"I can think of nothing you care for sufficiently to wish you."
+
+"Nothing?"
+
+"Unless," with sudden mischief, "I wish you a comfortable bed all the
+year round--and pleasant dreams, Louis."
+
+"That is much," he answered dryly as he drew a cloud of smoke.
+
+The doctor became anticipative.
+
+Ruth's embarrassment was evident as she turned and offered him a cigar.
+
+"Do you smoke?" she asked, holding out the box.
+
+"Like a chimney," he replied, looking at her, but taking none, "and in
+the same manner as other common mortals."
+
+She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hint
+his words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, saying
+as he did so, "So you were born in summer,--the time of all good things.
+Well, 'Thy dearest wish, wish I thee,' and may it not pass in the
+smoking!"
+
+She swept him a deep, mock courtesy.
+
+After this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation. She
+knew that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages for
+a bachelor of club life over home life. She knew that Louis was making
+some brilliantly cynical remarks,--asserting that the apparent privacy
+of the latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the former
+was deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter. All of
+which the doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic.
+
+"Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor," Mrs. Levice
+summed up, "and that is to marry. Louis complains of the club, and
+thinks himself a sort of cynosure in a large household. You, Doctor,
+complain of the want of coseyness in a bachelor establishment. To state
+it simply, you need a wife."
+
+"And oust my Pooh-ba! Madame, you do not know what a treasure that old
+soldier of mine is. If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but be
+paying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house and
+linen; he entertains my palate as deliciously as a Corinne her salon,
+and--is never in my way or thoughts. Can you commend me any woman so
+self-abnegatory?"
+
+"Many women, but no wife, I am glad to say. But you need one."
+
+"So! Pray explain wherein the lack is apparent."
+
+"Oh, not to me, but--"
+
+"You mean you consider a wife an adjunct to a doctor's certificate."
+
+"It is a great guarantee with women," put in Louis, "as a voucher
+against impatience with their own foibles. They think only home practice
+can secure the adequate tolerance. Eh, Aunt Esther?"
+
+"Nonsense, Louis!" interrupted Mr. Levice; "what has that to do with
+skill?"
+
+"Skill is one thing; the manner of man is another--with women."
+
+"That is worth considering--or adding to the curriculum," observed Kemp,
+turning his steady, quiet gaze upon Arnold.
+
+Ruth noticed that the two men had taken the same position,--vis--vis to
+each other in their respective easy-chairs, their heads thrown back upon
+the cushions, their arms resting on the chair-arms. Something in Louis's
+veiled eyes caused her to interpose.
+
+"Will you play, Louis?" she asked.
+
+"Not to-night, ma cousine," he replied, glancing at her from lowered
+lids.
+
+"It is not optional with you to-night, Louis," she insisted playfully,
+rising; "we--desire you to play."
+
+"Or be punished for treason? Has your Majesty any other behest?"
+
+"No; I shall even turn the leaves for you."
+
+"The leaves of what,--memory? I'll play by rote."
+
+He strolled over to the piano and sat down. He struck a few random
+chords, some soft, some florid, some harsh, some melting; he strung them
+together and then glided into a dreamy, melodious rhythm, that faded
+into a bird-like hallelujah,--swelling now into grandeur, then fainting
+into sobs, then rushing into an allegro so brilliantly bewildering that
+when the closing chords came like the pealing tones of an organ, Ruth
+drew a long sigh with the last lingering vibrations.
+
+"What is that?" asked Levice, looking curiously at his nephew, who,
+turning on his music-chair, took up his cigar again.
+
+"That," he replied, flecking an ash from his coat lapel, "has no name
+that I know of; some people call it 'The Soul.'"
+
+A pained sensation shot through Ruth at his words, for he had plainly
+been improvising, and he must have felt what he had played.
+
+"Here, Ruth, sing this," he continued, turning round and picking up a
+sheet of music.
+
+"What?" she asked without moving.
+
+"'The bugle;' I like it."
+
+Kemp looked at her expectantly. He said he had not known she sang; but
+since she did, he was sure her voice was contralto.
+
+"Why?" she asked.
+
+"Because your face is contralto."
+
+She turned from his eyes as if they hurt her, and walked over to Louis's
+side.
+
+It could hardly be called singing. Louis had often said that her voice
+needed merely to be set to rhythmic time to be music; in pursuance of
+which idea he would put into her hand some poem that touched his
+fancy, tell her to read it, and as she read, he would adapt to it
+an accompaniment according to the meaning and measure of the
+lines,--grandly solemn, daintily tripping, or wildly inspiriting. It was
+more like a chant than a song. To-night he chose Tennyson's Bugle-song.
+Her voice was subservient to the accompaniment, that shook its faint,
+sweet bugle-notes at first as in a rosy splendor; it rose and swelled
+and echoed and reverberated and died away slowly as if loath to depart.
+Arnold's playing was the poem, Ruth's voice the music the poet
+might have heard as he wrote, sweet as a violin, deep as the feeling
+evolved,--for when she came to the line beginning, "oh, love, they die
+in yon rich sky," she might have stood alone with one, in some high,
+clear place, so mellow was the thrill of her voice, so rapt the
+expression of her face. Kemp looked as if he would not tire if the sound
+should "grow forever and forever."
+
+Mrs. Levice was wakeful after she had gone to bed. Her husband also
+seemed inclined to prolong the night, for he made no move to undress.
+
+"Jules," said she in a low, confidential tone, "do you realize that our
+daughter is twenty-two?"
+
+He looked at her with a half-smile.
+
+"Is not this her birthday?"
+
+"Her twenty-second, and she is still unmarried."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, it is time she were. I should like to see it."
+
+"So should I," he acquiesced with marked decision.
+
+Mrs. Levice straightened herself up in bed and looked at her husband
+eagerly.
+
+"Is it possible," she exclaimed, "that we have both thought of the same
+parti?"
+
+It was now Mr. Levice's turn to start into an interested position.
+
+"Of whom," he asked with some restraint, "are you speaking?"
+
+"Hush! Come here; I have longed for it for some time, but have never
+breathed it to a soul,--Louis."
+
+"Levice had become quite pale, but as she pronounced the familiar name,
+the color returned to his cheek, and a surprised look sprang into his
+eyes.
+
+"Louis? Why do you think of such a thing?"
+
+"Because I think them particularly well suited. Ruth, pardon me,
+dear, has imbibed some very peculiar and high-flown notions. No merely
+commonplace young man would make her happy. A man must have some ideas
+outside of what his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment's
+interested thought on him. She has repelled some of the most eligible
+advances for no obvious reasons whatever. Now, she does not care a rap
+for society, and goes only because I exact it. That is no condition
+for a young girl to allow herself to sink into; she owes a duty to
+her future. I am telling you this because, of course, you see nothing
+peculiar in such a course. But it is time you were roused; you know
+one look from you is worth a whole sermon from me. As to my thinking of
+Louis, well, in running over my list of eligibles, I found he fulfilled
+every condition,--good-looking, clever, cultivated, well-to-do, and--of
+good family. Why should it not be? They like each other, and see enough
+of each other to learn to love. We, however, must bring it to a head."
+
+"First provide the hearts, little woman. What can I do, ask Louis or
+Ruth?"
+
+"Jules," she returned with vexation, "how childish! Don't you feel well?
+Your cheeks are rather flushed."
+
+"They are somewhat warm. I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
+ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out."
+
+Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her,
+her brush idle in her hand. Her father stood silently in the doorway,
+regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart. Jules Levice was a
+keen student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse of
+something in the doctor's eyes while Ruth sang. He knew it had been
+harmless, for her back had been turned, but he wished to reassure
+himself.
+
+"Not in bed yet, my child?"
+
+She started up in confusion as he came in.
+
+"Of what were you thinking, darling?" he continued, putting his hand
+under her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.
+
+"Well," she answered slowly, "I was not thinking of anything important;
+I was thinking of you. We are going to Beacham's next week--and have you
+any fine silk shirts?"
+
+He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.
+
+"Well, no," he answered; "I leave all such fancies to your care. So we
+go next week. I am glad; and you?"
+
+"I? Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know."
+
+"Yes. Well, good-night, love." He took her face between his hands, and
+drawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweet
+solemnity,--
+
+"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
+
+"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'"
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+It was August. The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until
+the gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the
+quiet autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.
+
+Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to
+continue the management of the household affairs until their return, a
+month later. Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had to
+be put in running order for a month, and she realized with a pang at
+parting with some of her simple, sincere proteges that were this part of
+her life withdrawn, the rest would pall insufferably.
+
+The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the steps
+of the veranda with Louis, who was enjoying a post-prandial smoke.
+Mr. and Mrs. Levice, in the soft golden gloaming of late summer,
+were strolling arm-in-arm among the flower-beds. Mrs. Levice, without
+obviously looking toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth was
+looking well in a plain black gown which she had had no time to change
+after her late shopping. She did not know that, close and isolated
+as the young man and woman stood, not only were they silent, but each
+appeared oblivious of the other's presence.
+
+Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreaths
+of blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under a
+dream-spell.
+
+As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the broken
+sentence,--
+
+"Jennie--good-by--to-day."
+
+This roused her from her revery, and she called to her mother,--
+
+"Why, I forgot to drop in at Jennie's this afternoon, as I promised."
+
+"How annoying! When you know how sensitive she is and how angry she gets
+at any neglect."
+
+"I can run out there now. It is light enough."
+
+"But it will be dark in less than an hour. Louis, will you go out to
+Jennie's with Ruth?"
+
+"Eh? Oh, certainly, if she wishes me."
+
+"I wish you to come if you yourself wish it. I'll run in and get my hat
+and jacket while you decide."
+
+Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and a
+light gray jacket, which she handed to Louis to hold for her.
+
+"New?" he asked, pulling it into place in the back.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "do you like it for travelling?"
+
+"Under a duster. Otherwise its delicate complexion will be rather
+freckled when you arrive at Beacham's."
+
+He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her
+down to the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward the
+valley. Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them
+saunter off. When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned
+around and sang gayly to Mr. Levice, "'Ca va bien!'"
+
+The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the west
+and sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color
+and molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green
+to the northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft and
+languorous after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or
+mandolin sounded through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was
+over all.
+
+They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously
+turned into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin. Suddenly Arnold
+felt his companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze from
+the landscape. Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightened
+up. The disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a garden
+fence and bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. Herbert
+Kemp.
+
+As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there would
+be more speaking signs of the doctor's propinquity. His forecasting was
+not at fault.
+
+Dr. Kemp's quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, was
+reached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which lounged
+the medical gentleman in person. He was not heaven-gazing, but seemed
+plunged in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him.
+Arnold's quick eye detected the pink flush that rose to the little ear
+of his cousin. The sound of their footsteps on the stone sidewalk
+came faintly to Kemp; he raised his eyes slowly and indifferently. The
+indifference vanished when he recognized them.
+
+With a hasty movement he threw the cigar from him and ran down the
+steps.
+
+"Good-evening," he called, raising his old slouch hat and arresting
+their evident intention of proceeding on their way. They came up,
+perforce, and met him at the foot of the steps.
+
+"A beautiful evening," he said originally, holding out a cordial hand to
+Arnold and looking with happy eyes at Ruth. She noticed that there was a
+marked difference in his appearance from anything she had been used
+to. His figure looked particularly tall and easy in a loose dark velvet
+jacket, thrown open from his broad chest; the large sombrero-like hat
+which had settled on the back of his head left to view his dark hair
+brushed carelessly backward; an unusual color was on his cheek, and a
+warm glow in his gray eyes.
+
+"I hope," he went on, frankly transferring his attention to Ruth, "this
+weather will continue. We shall have a magnificent autumn; the woods
+must be beginning to look gorgeous."
+
+"I shall know better to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?"
+
+"Yes; we leave for Beacham's to-morrow, you know."
+
+"No, I did not know;" an indefinable shadow over-clouded his face, but
+he said quickly,--
+
+"That is an old hunting-ground of mine. The river teems with speckled
+treasures. Are you a disciple of old Walton, Mr. Arnold?" he added,
+turning with courtesy to the silent Frenchman.
+
+"You mean fishing? No; life is too short to hang my humor of a whole day
+on the end of a line. I have never been at Beacham's."
+
+"It is a fine spot. You will probably go down there this year."
+
+"My business keeps me tied to the city just at present. A professional
+man has no such bond; his will is his master."
+
+"Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago. A restful night is an
+unknown indulgence sometimes for weeks."
+
+His gaze moved from Arnold's peachy cheek, and falling upon Ruth,
+surprised her dark eyes resting upon him in anxious questioning. He
+smiled.
+
+"We shall have to be moving on," she said, holding out a gloved hand.
+
+"Will you be gone long?" he asked, pressing it cordially.
+
+"About a month."
+
+"You will be missed--by the Flynns. Good-by." He raised his hat as he
+looked at her.
+
+Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off.
+
+They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the English
+language is the use of that highly expressive outlet of emotion, "Damn."
+Arnold was an old-timer, but he had not outgrown the charm of his first
+linguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, he
+distinctly though coolly said, "Damn him."
+
+Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expression
+of his face led her to believe that her ears had deceived her.
+
+A few more blocks were passed, and they stopped at a pretentious,
+many-windowed, Queen Anne house. Ruth ran lightly up the steps, her
+cousin following her leisurely.
+
+She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewis
+herself.
+
+"Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn't mean to say that he does us
+the honor?"
+
+Mr. Arnold had said nothing of the kind; but he offered no disclaimer,
+and giving her rather a loose hand-shake, walked in.
+
+"Come right into the dining-room," she continued. "I suppose you were
+surprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting the
+children to bed. They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed their
+father, who wished to be very quiet this evening."
+
+By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the door
+of which she threw open.
+
+Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping the
+drawing-rooms for company only. This is always presupposing that they
+have no extra sitting-room. After all, a dining-room is not a bad place
+for the family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane for
+a round game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; while
+from an economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms in
+reception stiffness and ceremonious newness.
+
+The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained the
+regulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard.
+
+Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burning
+in a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room.
+
+"I have 'Yahrzeit' for my mother," explained Jo Lewis, glancing toward
+the taper after greeting his visitors. He sat down quietly again.
+
+"Do you always burn the light?" asked Arnold.
+
+"Always. A light once a year to a mother's memory is not much to ask of
+a son."
+
+"How long is it since you lost your mother?" questioned Ruth, gently.
+
+Jo Lewis was a man with whom she had little in common. To her he
+seemed to have but one idea,--the amassing of wealth. With her more
+intellectual cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusion
+of all higher aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for her
+footing. Unpolished he certainly was, but the rough, exposed grain of
+his unhewn nature showed many strata of strength and virility. In this
+gentle mood a tenderness had come into view that drew her to him with a
+touch of kinship.
+
+"Thirty years," he answered musingly,--"thirty years. It is a long time,
+Ruth; but every year when I light the taper it seems as if but yesterday
+I was a boy crying because my mother had gone away forever." The strong
+man wiped his eyes.
+
+"The little light casts a long ray," observed Ruth. "Love builds its
+own lighthouse, and by its gleaming we travel back as at a leap to that
+which seemed eternally lost."
+
+Jo Lewis sighed. Presently the thoughts that so strongly possessed him
+found an outlet.
+
+"There was a woman for you!" he cried with glowing eyes. "Why, Arnold,
+you talk of men being great financiers; I wonder what you would have
+said to the powers my mother showed. We were poor, but poor to a degree
+of which you can know nothing. Well, with a large family of small
+children she struggled on alone and managed to keep us not only alive,
+but clean and respectable. In our village Sara Lewis was a name that
+every man and woman honored as if it belonged to a princess. Jennie is
+a good woman, but life is made easy for her. I often think how grand my
+mother would feel if she were here, and I were able to give her every
+comfort. God knows how proud and happy I would have been to say, 'You
+have struggled enough, Mother; life is going to be a heaven on earth to
+you now.' Well, well, what is the good of thinking of it? To-morrow
+I shall go down town and deal with men, not memories; it is more
+profitable."
+
+"Not always," said Arnold, dryly. The two men drifted into a business
+discussion that neither Mrs. Lewis nor Ruth cared to follow.
+
+"Are you quite ready?" asked Mrs. Lewis, drawing her chair closer to
+Ruth's.
+
+"Entirely," she replied; "we start on the 8.30 train in the morning."
+
+"You will be gone a month, will you not?"
+
+"Yes; we wish to get back for the holidays. New Year's falls on the 12th
+of September, and we must give the house its usual holiday cleaning."
+
+"I have begun already. Somehow I never thought you would mind being
+away."
+
+"Why, we always go to the Temple, you know; and I would not miss the
+Atonement services for a great deal."
+
+"Why don't you say 'Yom Kippur,' as everybody else does?"
+
+"Because 'Atonement' is English and means something to me. Is there
+anything odd about that?"
+
+"I suppose not. By the way, if there is anything you would like to have
+done while you are away, let me know."
+
+"I think I have seen to everything. You might run in and see Louis now
+and then."
+
+"Louis," Mrs. Lewis called instantly, "be sure to come in often for
+dinner while the folks are gone."
+
+"Thank you; I shall. The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enough
+to do away with any verbal invitation to another."
+
+He arose, seeing Ruth had risen and was kissing her cousins good-by.
+
+Mrs. Lewis beamed with pleasure at his words.
+
+"Now, won't you take something before you go?" she asked. "Ruth, I have
+the loveliest cakes."
+
+"Oh, Jennie," remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, "we have
+just dined."
+
+"Let her enjoy herself," observed Louis; "she is never so happy as when
+she is feeding somebody."
+
+The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis's rosy face appeared
+behind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-looking
+little cakes.
+
+"Jo, get the Kirsch. You must try one, Ruth; I made them myself."
+
+When they had complimented her on her cakes and Louis had drunk to his
+next undertaking, suggested by Jo Lewis, the visitors departed.
+
+They had been walking in almost total silence for a number of blocks,
+when Ruth turned suddenly to him and said with great earnestness,--
+
+"Louis, what is the matter with you? For the last few days you have
+hardly spoken to me. Have I done anything to annoy you?"
+
+"You? Why, no, not that I remember."
+
+"Then, please, before we go off, be friendly with me again."
+
+"I am afraid I am not of a very hilarious temperament."
+
+"Still, you manage to talk to others."
+
+"Have you cared very much who talked to you lately?"
+
+Her cheek changed color in the starlight.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked.
+
+"Anything or nothing."
+
+Ruth looked at him haughtily.
+
+"If nothing," he continued, observing her askance from lowered lids,
+"what I am about to say will be harmless. If anything, I still hope you
+will find it pardonable."
+
+"What are you about to say?"
+
+"It won't take long. Will you be my wife?"
+
+And the stars still shone up in heaven!
+
+Her face turned white as a Niphetos rose.
+
+"Louis," she said finally and speaking with difficulty, "why do you ask
+me this?"
+
+"Why does any man ask a woman to be his wife?"
+
+"Generally because he loves her."
+
+"Well?"
+
+If he had spoken outright, she might have answered him; but the simple
+monosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her like
+a wall, before which she stood silent.
+
+"Answer me, Ruth."
+
+"If you mean it, Louis, I am very, very sorry."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I can never be your wife."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I do not love you--like that."
+
+Silence for half a block, the man's lips pressed hard together under
+his mustache, the girl's heart beating suffocatingly. When he spoke, his
+voice sounded oddly clear in the hushed night air.
+
+"What do you mean by 'like that'?"
+
+Her little hand was clinched tight as it lay on his arm. The perfect
+silence that followed the words of each made every movement significant.
+
+"You know,--as a woman loves the man she would marry, not as she loves a
+brotherly cousin."
+
+"The difference is not clear to me--but--how did you learn the
+difference?"
+
+"How dare you?" she cried, flashing a pair of dark, wet eyes upon him.
+
+"In such a case, 'I dare do all that may become a man.' Besides, even
+if there is a difference, I still ask you to be my wife. You would not
+regret it, Ruth, I think."
+
+His voice was not soft, but there was a certain strained pleading about
+it that pained her inexpressibly.
+
+"Louis," she said, with slow distinctness, her hand moving down until
+it touched his, "I never thought of this as a possibility. You know how
+much I have always loved you, dear; but oh, Louis, will it hurt you very
+much, will you forgive me if I have to say no, I cannot be your wife?"
+
+"Wait. I wish you to consider this well. I am offering you all that I
+have in the world; it is not despicable. Your family, I know, would be
+pleased. Besides, it would be well for you--God knows, not because I am
+what I am, but for other reasons. Wait. I beg of you not to answer me
+till you have thought it over. You know me; I am no saint, but a man who
+would give his life for you. I ask of you nothing but the right to guard
+yours. Do not answer me now."
+
+They had turned the corner of their block.
+
+"I need no time," said Ruth, with a sad sob in her voice; "I cannot
+marry you, Louis. My answer would be the same to-morrow or at the end of
+all time,--I can never, never be your wife."
+
+"It is then as I feared,--anything."
+
+The girl's bowed head was the only answer to his bitter words.
+
+"Well," he said, with a hard laugh, "that ends it, then. Don't let it
+bother you. Your answer has put it entirely from my mind. I should be
+pleased if you would forget it as readily as I shall. I hardly think
+we shall meet in the morning. I am going down to the club now. Good-by;
+enjoy yourself."
+
+He held out his hand carelessly; Ruth carried it in both hers to her
+lips. Being at the gate, he lifted his hat with a smile and walked away.
+Ruth did not smile; neither did Arnold when he had turned from her.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+Beacham's lies in a dimple of the inner coast range, and is reached
+nowadays through one of the finest pieces of engineering skill in the
+State. The tortuous route through the mountains, over trestle-bridges
+that span what seem, from the car-windows, like bottomless chasms,
+needs must hold some compensation at the end to counterbalance the fears
+engendered on the way. The higher one goes the more beautiful becomes
+the scenery among the wild, marvellous redwoods that stand like mammoth
+guides pointing heavenward; and Beacham's realizes expectation.
+
+It is a quiet little place, with its one hotel and two attached
+cottages, its old, disused saw-mill, its tiny schoolhouse beyond the
+fairy-like woods, its one general merchandise store, where cheese
+and calico, hats and hoes, ham and hominy, are forthcoming upon
+solicitation. It is by no means a fashionable resort; the Levices had
+searched for something as unlike the Del Monte and Coronado as milk is
+unlike champagne. They were looking for a pretty, healthful spot, with
+good accommodations and few social attractions, and Beacham's offered
+this.
+
+They were not disappointed. Ruth's anticipation was fulfilled when she
+saw the river. Russian River is about as pretty a stream as one can view
+upon a summer's day. Here at Beacham's it is very narrow and shallow,
+with low, shelving beaches on either bank; but in the tiny row-boat
+which she immediately secured, Ruth pushed her way into enchantment. The
+river winds in and out through exquisite coves entangled in a wilderness
+of brambles and lace-like ferns that are almost transparent as they
+bend and dip toward the silvery waters; while, climbing over the rocky
+cliffs, run bracken and the fragrant yerba-buena, till, on high, they
+creep as if in awe about the great redwoods and pines of the forest.
+
+Morning and night Ruth, in her little boat, wooed the lisping waters.
+Often of a morning her mother was her companion; later on, her father or
+little Ethel Tyrrell; in the evening one of the Tyrrell boys, generally
+Will, was her gallant chevalier. But it was always Ruth who rowed,--Ruth
+in her pretty sailor blouses, with her strong round arms and steadily
+browning hands; Ruth, whose creamy face and neck remained provokingly
+unreddened, and took on only a little deeper tint, as if a dash
+of bistre had been softly applied. It was pleasant enough rowing
+down-stream with Ruth; she always knew when to sing "Nancy Lee," and
+when "White Wings" sounded prettiest. There were numerous coves
+too, where she loved to beach her boat,--here to fill a flask with
+honey-sweet water from a rollicking little spring that came merrily
+dashing over the rocks, here to gather some delicate ferns or
+maiden-hair with which to decorate the table, or the trailing
+yerba-buena for festooning the boat. But Ethel Tyrrell, aged three,
+thought they had the "dolliest" time when she and Ruth, having rowed a
+space out of sight, jumped out, and taking off their shoes and stockings
+and making other necessary preliminaries to wading, pattered along
+over the pebbly bottom, screaming when a sharp stone came against their
+tender feet, and laughing gleefully when the water rose a little higher
+than they had bargained for; then, when quite tired, they would retire
+to the beach or the boat and dry themselves with the soft damask of the
+sun.
+
+Ruth was happy. There were moments when the remembrance of her
+last meeting with Louis came like a summer cloud over the ineffable
+brightness of her sky, and she felt a sharp pang at her heart; still,
+she thought, it was different with Louis. His feeling for her could not
+be so strong as to make him suffer poignantly over her refusal. She
+was almost convinced that he had asked her more from a whim of
+good-fellowship, a sudden desire, perhaps a preference for her close
+companionship when he did marry, than from any deeper emotion. In
+consequence of these reflections her musings were not so sad as they
+might otherwise have been.
+
+Her parents laughed to see how she revelled in the freedom of the
+old-fashioned little spot, which, though on the river, was decidedly
+"out of the swim." It was late in the season, and there were few guests
+at the hotel. The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other being
+used by a pair of belated turtle-doves,--the wife a blushing dot of a
+woman, the husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walks
+like a devoted weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptive
+cough, a natty little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and the
+golden-haired Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell could
+not enjoy his hard-earned rest without one and all. They were such a
+refined, happy, sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, that
+the Levices were attracted to them at once. To be with Mrs. Tyrrell
+one whole day, Mrs. Levice said was a liberal education,--so bright, so
+uncomplaining, so ambitious for her children was she, and such a help
+and inspiration to her hard-worked husband. Mr. Levice tramped about
+the woods with Tyrrell and brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moral
+bravery of a man who struggled on with a happy face and small hope for
+any earthly rest. But the children!--Floy with her dreamy face and busy
+sketch-book, Will with his halo of golden hair, his manly figure and
+broad, open ambitions, Boss with his busy step and fishing-tackle, and
+baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran after Ruth the first time she saw
+her and begged her to come and play with her; ever since, she formed
+a part of the drapery of Ruth's skirt or a rather cumbersome necklace
+about her neck. Every girl who has been debarred the blessing of babies
+in the house loves them promiscuously and passionately. Ruth was no
+exception; it amused the ladies to watch her cuddle the child and wonder
+aloud at all her baby-talk.
+
+Will was her next favorite satellite. A young girl with a winsome,
+sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of
+a fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
+saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.
+
+The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems so
+near, are just the time for such talk.
+
+They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamy
+gown and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hat
+in his hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he loved
+to do.
+
+"What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?" asked the
+boy suddenly.
+
+"Well, law is one--" she began.
+
+"That's the way Papa begins," he interrupted impatiently; "but I'll tell
+you what I think is the greatest. Guess, now."
+
+"The ministry?" she ventured.
+
+"Oh, of course; but I'm not good enough for that,--that takes
+exceptions. Guess again."
+
+"Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery,--that is it. You would be a
+brave soldier, Willikins, my man."
+
+"No, sir," he replied, flinging back his head; "I don't want to take
+lives; I want to save them."
+
+"You mean a physician, Will?"
+
+"That's it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon. Don't you think that
+takes bravery? And it's a long sight better than being a soldier; he
+draws blood to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?"
+
+"Indeed, you are right," she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
+beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to
+descent the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came
+suddenly upon them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth
+gaping wide.
+
+When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.
+
+"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed.
+
+The man's mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.
+
+"Begging your pardon, Miss,--I mean Her pardon,--the Lord forgive me, I
+took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the shining hair.
+Now, don't be telling of me, will you?"
+
+"Indeed, we won't; we'll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves. Have
+you the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me."
+
+Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It was
+still light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened
+them.
+
+"This," she announced in a matter-of-course way, "is from Miss Dorothy
+Gwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea next
+Saturday. That, or the hay-ride, Will? And this--this--"
+
+It was a simple envelope addressed to
+
+                Miss RUTH LEVICE--
+                   Beacham's--
+                 ... County--
+                         Cal.
+
+It was the sight of the dashes that caused the hiatus in her sentence,
+and made her heart give one great rushing bound. The enclosure was to
+the point.
+
+
+SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 18, 188--.
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND,--That you may not denounce me as too presumptuous, I
+shall at once explain that I am writing this at Bob's urgent desire. He
+has at length got the position at the florist's, and tells me to tell
+you that he is now happy. I dropped in there last night; and when he
+gave me this message, I told him that I feared you would take it as an
+advertisement. He merely smiled, picked up a Marechal Niel that lay on
+the counter, and said, "Drop this in. It's my mark; she'll understand."
+So here are Bob's rose and my apology.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+She was pale when she turned round to the courteously waiting boy. It
+was a very cold note, and she put it in her pocket to keep it warm. The
+rose she showed to Will, and told him the story of the sender.
+
+"Didn't I tell you," he cried, when she had finished, "a doctor has the
+greatest opportunity in the world to be great--and a surgeon comes near
+it? I say, Miss Ruth, your Dr. Kemp must be a brick. Isn't he?"
+
+"Boys would call him so," she answered, shivering slightly.
+
+It was so like him, she thought, to fulfil Bob's request in his hearty,
+friendly way; she supposed he wanted her to understand that he wrote to
+her only as Bob's amanuensis,--it was plain enough. And yet, and
+yet, she thought passionately, it would have been no more than common
+etiquette to send a friendly word from himself to her mother. Still the
+note was not thrown away. Girls are so irrational; if they cannot have
+the hand-shake, they will content themselves with a sight of the glove.
+
+And Ruth in the warm, throbbing, summer days was happy. She was not
+always active; there were long afternoons when mere existence was
+intensely beautiful. To lie at full length upon the soft turf in the
+depths of the small enchanted woods, and hear and feel the countless
+spells of Nature, was unspeakable rapture.
+
+"Ah, Floy," she cried one afternoon, as she lay with her face turned up
+to the great green boughs that seemed pencilled against the azure sky,
+"if one could paint what one feels! Look at these silent, living trees
+that stand in all their grandeur under some mighty spell; see how the
+wonderful heaven steals through the leaves and throws its blue softness
+upon the twilight gloom; here at our feet nestle the soft, green ferns,
+and over all is the indescribable fragrance of the redwoods. Turn there,
+to your right, little artist, high up on that mountain; can you see
+through the shimmering haze a great team moving as if through the air?
+It is like the vision of the Bethshemites in Dore's mystic work, when in
+the valley they lifted up their eyes and beheld the ark returning. Oh,
+Floy, it is not Nature; it is God. And who can paint God?"
+
+"No one. If one could paint Him, He would no longer be great," answered
+the girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth's enraptured countenance.
+
+One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairy
+spot. It was very warm and still. Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleep
+in the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to the
+Tyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices' veranda. All Nature
+was drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered on
+as was her wont.
+
+"Me and you's yunnin' away," she chatted; "we's goin' to a fowest, and
+by and by two 'ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves. My! Won't my
+mamma be sorry? No darlin' 'ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more. Poor
+Mamma!"
+
+"Does Ethel think Mamma likes to spank her?"
+
+"Yes; Mamma does des what she likes."
+
+"But it is only when Ethel is naughty that Mamma spanks her. Here,
+sweetheart, let me tie your sunbonnet tighter. Now Ruth is going to lie
+here and read, and you can play hide-and-seek all about these trees."
+
+"Can I go wound and sit on dat log by a bwook?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, I's afwaid. I's dweffully afwaid."
+
+"Why, you can turn round and talk to me all the time."
+
+"But nobody'll be sitting by me at all."
+
+"I am here just where you can see me; besides, God will be right next to
+you."
+
+"Will He? Ven all yight."
+
+Ruth took off her hat and prepared to enjoy herself. As her head touched
+the green earth, she saw the little maiden seat herself on the log, and
+turning her face sideways, say in her pleasant, piping voice,--
+
+"How-de-do, Dod?" And having made her acknowledgments, all her fears
+vanished.
+
+Ruth laughed softly to herself, and straightway began to read. The
+afternoon burned itself away. Ethel played and sang and danced about
+her, quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herself
+into Ruth's arms.
+
+"Sing by-low now," she demanded sleepily; "pay it's night, and you and
+me's in a yockin'-chair goin' to by-low land."
+
+Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head to
+her bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, golden
+locks.
+
+"What shall I sing, darling?" she mused: she was unused to singing
+babies to sleep. Suddenly a little kindergarten melody she had heard
+came to her, and she sang softly in her rich, tender contralto the
+swinging cradle-song:--
+
+                "In a cradle, on the treetop,
+                        Sleeps a tiny bird;
+                Sweeter sound than mother's chirping
+                        Never yet was heard.
+                See, the green leaves spread like curtains
+                        Round the tiny bed,
+                While the mother's wings, outstretching,
+                        Shield--the--tiny--head?"
+
+As her voice died slowly into silence, she found Ethel looking over her
+shoulder and nodding her head.
+
+"No; I won't tell," she said loudly.
+
+"Tell what?" asked Ruth, amused.
+
+"Hush! He put his finger on his mouf--sh!"
+
+"Who?" asked Ruth, turning her head hurriedly. Not being able to see
+through the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child.
+Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp,--Dr. Kemp in
+loose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of his
+head was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned,--a wave
+of color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth,--a woman's
+face dare not speak sometimes.
+
+"Did I startle you?" he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the
+golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
+
+"Yes," she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into
+silence.
+
+She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down
+till she stood at her side.
+
+"I interrupted you," he continued; "will you shake hands with me,
+nevertheless?"
+
+She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and
+then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that
+moment she had time to compose herself.
+
+"Do you often come up this way?" she questioned.
+
+He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm
+against the tree, answered,--
+
+"Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days,
+and generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my
+select spots. I knew you would ferret it out."
+
+"It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is
+growing old. Come, Ethel."
+
+A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him.
+Why should she hurry off at his coming?
+
+"I am sorry my presence disturbs you," he said quietly; "But I can
+easily go away again."
+
+"Was I so rude?" she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. "I did not
+mean it so; but Ethel's mother will want her now."
+
+"Ethel wants to be carried," begged the child.
+
+"All right; Ruth will carry you," and she stooped to raise her; but as
+she did so, Kemp's strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
+
+"Ethel will ride home on my shoulder," he said in the gay, winning voice
+he knew how so well to use with children. The baby's blue eyes smiled in
+response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There
+is nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little
+child reposes in a strong man.
+
+So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
+
+
+
+Chapter XV
+
+Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching.
+For a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire.
+When he did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude,
+took possession of him. He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth's
+birthnight by a vague something in Kemp's eyes. The feeling, however,
+had vanished gradually in the knowledge that the doctor always had
+a peculiarly intent gaze, and, moreover, no one could have helped
+appreciating her loveliness that night. This, of itself, will bring
+a softness into a man's manner; and without doubt his fears had been
+groundless,--fears that he had not dared to put into words. For old man
+as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp's strong personality was such as
+would prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom he cared to honor
+with his favor; but with a "Get thee behind me, Satan" desire, he
+had put the question from him. He could have taken his oath on Ruth's
+heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his misgivings
+returned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was at his ease as
+they came up.
+
+"This is a surprise, Doctor," he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate
+and extending his hand. "Who would have thought of meeting you here?"
+
+Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
+
+"I am a sort of surprise-party," he answered, swinging Ethel to the
+ground and watching her scamper off to the hotel; "and what is more," he
+continued, turning to him, "I have not brought a hamper, which makes one
+of me."
+
+"You calculate without your host," responded Levice; "this is a
+veritable land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wife
+rhapsodize."
+
+"How is she?" he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of
+Ruth's vanishing figure.
+
+"Feeling quite well," replied Levice; "she is all impatience now for a
+delirious winter season."
+
+"I thought so," laughed the doctor; "but if you take my advice, you will
+draw the bit slightly."
+
+Mrs. Levice was delighted to see him; she said it was like the sight of
+a cable-car in a desert. He protested at such a stupendous comparison,
+and insisted that she make clear that the dummy was not included. The
+short afternoon glided into evening, and Dr. Kemp went over to the hotel
+and dined at the Levices' table.
+
+Ruth, in a white wool gown, sat opposite him. It was the first time
+he had dined with them; and he enjoyed a singular feeling over the
+situation. He noticed that although Mrs. Levice kept up an almost
+incessant flow of talk, she ate a hearty meal, and that Ruth, who was
+unusually quiet, tasted scarcely anything. Her father also observed it,
+and resolved upon a course of strict surveillance. He was glad to hear
+that the doctor had to leave on the early morning's train, though, of
+course, he did not say so. As they strolled about afterward, he managed
+to keep his daughter with him and allowed Kemp to appropriate his wife.
+
+They finally drifted to the cottage-steps, and were enjoying the beauty
+of the night when Will Tyrrell presented himself before them.
+
+"Good-evening," he said, taking off his hat as he stood at the foot of
+the steps. "Mr. Levice, Father says he has at last scared up two other
+gentlemen; and will you please come over and play a rubber of whist?"
+
+Mr. Levice felt himself a victim of circumstances. He and Mr. Tyrrell
+had been looking for a couple of opponents, and had almost given up the
+search. Now, when he decidedly objected to moving, it would have been
+heartless not to go.
+
+"Don't consider me," said the doctor, observing his hesitancy. "If it
+ill relieve you, I assure you I shall not miss you in the least."
+
+"Go right ahead, Jules" urged his wife; "Ruth and I will take care of
+the doctor."
+
+If she had promised to take care of Ruth, it would have been more to
+his mind; but since his wife was there, what harm could accrue that his
+presence would prevent? So with a sincere apology he went over to the
+hotel.
+
+He hardly appreciated what an admirable aide he had left behind him in
+his wife.
+
+Kemp sat upon the top step, and leaned his back against the railing;
+although outwardly he kept up a constant low run of conversation with
+Mrs. Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intently
+conscious of Ruth's white figure perched on the window-sill.
+
+How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but she
+was rather startled when she perceived that Kemp was addressing her.
+
+"I should like to show my prowess to you, Miss Levice."
+
+"In what?" she asked, somewhat dazed.
+
+"Ruth, Ruth," laughed her mother, "do you mean to say you have not heard
+a word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?"
+
+"And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered a
+fine oar at my Alma Mater."
+
+"And I hazarded the suggestion," added Mrs. Levice, "that as it is such
+a beautiful night, there is nothing to prevent your taking a little row,
+and then each can judge of the other's claim to superiority?"
+
+"My claim has never been justly established," said Ruth. "I have never
+allowed any one to usurp my oars."
+
+"As yet," corrected Kemp. "Then will you wrap something about you and
+come down to the river?"
+
+"Certainly she will," answered her mother; "run in and get some wraps,
+Ruth."
+
+"You will come too, Mamma?"
+
+"Of course; but considering Dr. Kemp's length, a third in your little
+boat will be the proverbial trumpery. Still, I suppose I can rely on you
+two crack oarsmen, though you know the slightest tremble in the boat in
+the fairest weather is likely to create a squall on my part."
+
+If Dr. Kemp wished to row, he should row; and since the Jewish Mrs.
+Grundy was not on hand, anything harmlessly enjoyable was permissible.
+
+Ruth went indoors. This was certainly something she had not bargained
+for. How could her mother be so blind as not to know or feel her desire
+to evade Dr. Kemp? She felt a positive contempt for herself that his
+presence should affect her as it did; she dared not look at him lest her
+heart should flutter to her eyes. Probably the display amused him. What
+was she to him anyway but a girl with whom he could flirt in his
+idle moments? Well (with a passionate fling of her arms), she would
+extinguish her uncontrollable little beater for the nonce; she would
+meet and answer every one of his long glances in kind.
+
+She wound a black lace shawl around her head, and with some wraps for
+her mother, came out.
+
+"Hadn't you better put something over your shoulders?" he asked
+deferentially as she appeared.
+
+"And disgust the night with lack of appreciation?"
+
+She turned to a corner of the porch and lifted a pair of oars to her
+shoulder.
+
+"Why," he said in surprise, coming toward her, "you keep your oars at
+home?"
+
+"On the principle of 'neither a borrower nor a lender be;' we find it
+saves both time and spleen."
+
+She held them lightly in place on her shoulder.
+
+"Allow me," he said, placing his hand upon the oars.
+
+A spirit of contradiction took possession of her.
+
+"Indeed, no," she answered; "why should I? They are not at all heavy."
+
+He gently lifted her resisting fingers one by one and raised the broad
+bone of contention to his shoulder. Then without a look he turned and
+offered his arm to Mrs. Levice.
+
+The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashed
+before them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty of
+the bewildering heavens. As they approached the river, the faint susurra
+came to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing in
+the distance.
+
+"Others are enjoying themselves also," he remarked as their feet touched
+the pebbly beach. A faint crescent moon shone over the water. Ruth went
+straight to the little boat aground on the shore.
+
+"It looks like a cockle-shell," he said, as he put one foot in after
+shoving it off. "Will you sit in the stern or the bow, Mrs. Levice?"
+
+"In the bow; I dislike to see dangers before we come to them."
+
+He helped her carefully to her place; she thanked him laughingly for his
+exceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth.
+
+"I was waiting for you to move from my place," she said in defiant
+mischief, standing motionless beside the boat.
+
+"Your place? Ah, yes; now," he said, holding out his hand to her, "will
+you step in?"
+
+She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as the
+little bark swayed he made a movement to catch hold of her.
+
+"You had better sit down," he said, motioning to the rower's seat.
+
+"And you?" she asked.
+
+"I shall sit beside you and use the other oar," he answered
+nonchalantly, smiling down at her.
+
+With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the
+stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.
+
+"You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice," he
+said pleasantly.
+
+"That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not
+very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored
+if I wax too discursive."
+
+It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp's knees were not half a foot
+from Ruth's white gown.
+
+"Will you direct me?" he said, as he swept around. "I have not rowed on
+this river for two or three years."
+
+"You can keep straight ahead for some distance," she said, leaning back
+in her seat.
+
+She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowed
+lightly down the river. His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed his
+strong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, and
+his dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with grave
+sweetness. She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from the
+short range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded her
+good vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze.
+
+Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdo
+the night in brilliancy. For a while Kemp maintained a sort of
+Roland-for-an-Oliver conversation with her; but with his eyes
+continually straying to the girl before him, it became rather
+difficult. Some merry rowers down the river were singing college songs
+harmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum with them, her voice
+gradually subsiding into a faint murmur. The balmy, summer-freighted
+air made her feel drowsy. She listened absently to Ruth's occasional
+warnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars.
+
+"Now we have clear sailing for a stretch," said Ruth, as they came to a
+broad curve. "Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shot
+over that snag, Mamma?"
+
+She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp.
+
+"Mamma!"
+
+Then she straightened herself back in her seat. Kemp, noting the sudden
+flush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look at
+Mrs. Levice. Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes were
+closed, in the manner of more wary chaperones,--Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.
+
+Far across the river a woman's silvery voice was singing the sweet old
+love-song, "Juanita;" overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low from
+the floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender
+night, and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy
+part of it. Against the black lace about her head her face shone like
+a cameo, her eyes were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to
+breathe, so still she sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.
+
+Dr. Kemp sat opposite her--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched
+the water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks,--they were
+unconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
+tender woman's voice across the water stole to them, singing of love;
+their eyes met--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again
+rocking in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man's deep,
+grave eyes held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his
+worshipping eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.
+
+"Doctor," called a startled voice, "row out; I am right under the
+trees."
+
+They both started. Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake. They had
+drifted into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs.
+
+"I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?" she
+complained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh. "Did not
+you see where we were going?"
+
+"No," she answered a little breathlessly; "I believe I am growing
+far-sighted."
+
+"It must be time to sight home now," said her mother; "I am quite
+chilly."
+
+In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
+When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started
+up the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of
+the boat.
+
+"Wait for us, Ruth," called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure
+stood still till they came up.
+
+"You are so slow," she said with a reckless little laugh; "I feel as if
+I could fly home."
+
+"Are you light-headed, Ruth?" asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
+behind them. She could not yet meet his eyes again.
+
+"Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us." Mrs. Levice,
+awake, was an exemplary duenna.
+
+"There is nothing abroad here but the stars," she answered, flitting
+before them.
+
+"And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night," remarked Kemp,
+softly.
+
+She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood inside of it
+as they drew near.
+
+"Then you will not be home till Monday," he said, taking Mrs. Levice's
+hand and raising his hat; "and I am off on the early morning train.
+Good-by."
+
+As she turned in at the gate, he held out his hand to Ruth. His fingers
+closed softly, tightly over hers; she heard him say almost inaudibly,--
+
+"Till Monday."
+
+She raised her shy eyes for one brief second to his glowing ones; and he
+passed, a tall, dark figure, down the shadowy road.
+
+When Mr. Levice returned from his game of whist, he quietly opened the
+door of his daughter's bedroom and looked in. All was well; the wolf had
+departed, and his lamb slept safe in the fold.
+
+But in the dark his lamb's eyes were mysteriously bright. Sleep! With
+this new crown upon her! Humble as the beautiful beggar-maid must have
+felt when the king raised her, she wondered why she had been thus
+chosen by one whom she had deemed so immeasurably above her. And this
+is another phase of woman's love,--that it exalts the beloved beyond all
+reasoning.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI
+
+At six o'clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greens
+were gently warming under the sun's first rays. At seven the early train
+that Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave. Ruth, with this knowledge
+at heart, had softly risen and left the cottage. Close behind the depot
+rose a wooded hill. She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; and
+what was to prevent her doing so now? It afforded an excellent view of
+the station.
+
+It was very little past six, and she began leisurely to ascend the hill.
+The sweet morning air was in her nostrils, and she pushed the broad
+hat form her happy eyes. She paused a moment, looking up at the wooded
+hill-top, which the sun was jewelling in silver.
+
+"Do you see something beautiful up there?"
+
+With an inarticulate cry she wheeled around and faced Dr. Kemp within a
+hand's breadth of her.
+
+"Oh," she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, "I did not mean--I
+did not expect--"
+
+"Nor did I," he said in a low voice; "chance is kinder to us than
+ourselves--beloved."
+
+She turned quite white at the low, intense word.
+
+"You understood me last night--and I was not--deceived?"
+
+Her head drooped lower till the broad brim of her hat hid her face.
+
+With one quick step he reached her side.
+
+"Ruth, look at me."
+
+She never had been able to resist his compelling voice; and now with a
+swift-drawn breath she threw back her head and looked up at him fairly,
+with all her soul in her eyes.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" she asked tremulously.
+
+"Not yet," he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.
+
+"My Santa Filomena," he murmured with his lips against her hair, "this
+is worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long."
+
+In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared
+meet his eyes when he finally held her from him.
+
+"Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I,
+dear; you can trust me, I think."
+
+"I know," she said, her hand fluttering in his; "but isn't--the train
+coming?"
+
+"Are you so anxious to have me go?"
+
+Her hand closed tightly around his.
+
+"Because," laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I have
+something to ask you."
+
+"To ask me?"
+
+"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still
+further? Will you be my wife, love?"
+
+A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
+tenderness. "If you really want me," she replied, with a sobbing laugh.
+
+"Soon?" he persisted.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because you must. You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth."
+
+"I am not afraid of you, sir."
+
+"Then you should be. Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five;
+did you remember that when you made me king among men?"
+
+"Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two."
+
+"As ancient as that? Then you should be able to answer me. Make it soon,
+sweetheart."
+
+"Why, how you beg--for a king. Besides, there is Father, you know; he
+decides everything for me."
+
+"I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaiting
+him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last
+night, and--Ah, the whistle! What day is this, Ruth?"
+
+"Friday."
+
+"Good Friday, sweet, I think."
+
+"Oh, I am not at all superstitious."
+
+"And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
+Monday will be four days rolled into one."
+
+"Remember," he continued hurriedly, "you are doubly precious now,
+darling, and take good care of yourself till our 'Auf Wiedersehn.'"
+
+"And--and--you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?"
+
+"Who? There is no doctor here that I know of."
+
+"But I know one--Herbert."
+
+"God bless you for that, dear!" he answered gravely.
+
+Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the
+out-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kemp
+where he belonged,--to his busy practice,--and leaving his child's peace
+undisturbed. Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed him
+to drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite and
+happy talk? No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shown
+in her; but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resort
+to flirtation, and anything deeper was out of the question. He must
+certainly have a little plain talk with the child this morning, and,
+well, he could cry "Ebenezer!" on his departure. With this conclusion,
+he softly rose, taking care not to disturb his placidly sleeping wife,
+who never dreamed of waking till nine.
+
+Ruth generally waited for him for breakfast, but not seeing her around,
+he went in and took a solitary meal. Sauntering out afterward toward the
+hotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting a
+cigar, he was met at the door of the billiard-room by one of the clerks.
+
+"Dr. Kemp left this for you this morning," said he, holding out a small
+envelope. A flush rose to the old gentleman's sallow cheek as he took
+it.
+
+"Thank you," he said; "I believe I shall come in here for a few
+minutes."
+
+He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chair
+near the window. He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightly
+nervous manner, and adjusted them hastily. The missive was addressed to
+him, certainly; and with no little wonder he tore it open and read:--
+
+
+BEACHAM'S Friday morning.
+
+MR. LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR SIR,--Pardon the hurried nature of this communication, but I
+must leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operation
+to undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare you
+more fully, but time presses. Simply, then, I love your daughter. I told
+her so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest and
+happiest of men by returning my love. I am well aware what I am asking
+of you when I ask her of you to be my wife. You know me personally; you
+know my financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings with
+mercy in the knowledge of our great love. Till Monday night, then, I
+leave her and my happiness to your consideration and love.
+
+
+With the greatest respect,
+
+Yours Sincerely,
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+
+"My God!"
+
+The clerk standing near him in the doorway turned hurriedly.
+
+"Any trouble?" he asked, moving toward him and noticing the ashy pallor
+of his face.
+
+The old man's hand closed spasmodically over the paper.
+
+"Nothing," he managed to answer, waving the man away; "don't notice me."
+
+The clerk, seeing his presence was undesirable, took up his position in
+the doorway again.
+
+Levice sat on. No further sound broke from him; he had clinched his
+teeth hard. It had come to this, then. She loved him; it was too late.
+If the man's heart alone were concerned, it would have been an easy
+matter; but hers, Ruth's. God! If she really loved, her father knew
+only too well how she would love. Was the man crazy? Had he entirely
+forgotten the gulf that lay between them? Great drops of perspiration
+rose to his forehead. Two ideas held him in a desperate struggle,--his
+child's happiness; the prejudice of a lifetime. Something conquered
+finally, and he arose quietly and walked slowly off.
+
+Through the trees he heard laughter. He walked round and saw her
+swinging Will Tyrrell.
+
+"There's your father," cried Boss, from the limb of a tree.
+
+She looked up, startled. With a newborn shyness she had endeavored to
+put off this meeting with her father. She gave the swing another push
+and waited his approach with beating heart.
+
+"The boys will excuse you, Ruth, I think; I wish you to come for a short
+walk with me."
+
+At his voice, the gentle seriousness of which penetrated even to the
+Tyrrell boys' understanding, she felt that her secret was known.
+
+She laid her arm about his neck and gave him his usual morning kiss,
+reddening slowly under his long searching look as he held her to him.
+She followed him almost blindly as he turned from the grounds and struck
+into the lane leading to the woods. Mr. Levice walked along, aimlessly
+knocking off with his stick the dandelions and camomile in the hedges.
+It was with a wrench he spoke.
+
+"My child," he said, and now the stick acted as a support, "I was just
+handed a note from Dr. Kemp. He has asked me for your hand."
+
+In the pause that followed Ruth's lovely face was hidden in her hat.
+
+"He also told me that he loves you," he continued slowly, "and that you
+return his love. Will you turn your face to me, Ruth?"
+
+She did so with dignity.
+
+"You love this man?"
+
+"I do." As reverently as if at the altar, she faced and answered her
+father. All her love was in the eyes she raised to his. Beneath their
+happy glow Levice's sank and his steady lips grew pale.
+
+They were away from mankind in the shelter of the woods, the birds gayly
+carolling their matins above them.
+
+"And you desire to become his wife?"
+
+Neck, face, and ears were suffused with color as she faltered
+unsteadily,--
+
+"Oh, Father, he loves me." Then at the wonder of it, she exclaimed,
+throwing her arms about his neck impulsively and hiding her face in his
+shoulder, "I am so happy, so happy! It seems almost too beautiful to be
+true."
+
+The old man's trembling hand smoothed the soft little tendrils of hair
+that had escaped from their pins. He stifled a groan as he was thus
+disarmed.
+
+"And what," she asked, her sweet eyes holding his as she stepped back,
+"what do you think of Herbert Kemp, M. D.? Will you be proud of your
+son-in-law, Father darling?"
+
+Levice's hand fell suddenly on her shoulder. He schooled himself to
+smile quietly upon her.
+
+"Dr. Kemp is a great friend of mine. He is a gentleman whom all the
+world honors, not only for his professional worth, but for his manly
+qualities. I am not surprised that you love him, nor yet that he loves
+you--except for one thing."
+
+"And that?" she asked, smiling confidently at him.
+
+"Child, you are a Jewess; Dr. Kemp is a Christian."
+
+And still his daughter smiled trustingly.
+
+"What difference can that make, since we love each other?" she asked.
+
+"Will you believe me, Ruth, when I say that all I desire is your
+happiness?"
+
+"Father, I know it."
+
+"Then I tell you I can never bring myself to approve of a marriage
+between you and a Christian. There can be no true happiness in such a
+union."
+
+"Why not? Inasmuch as all my life you have taught me to look upon
+my Christian friends as upon my Jewish, and since you admit him
+irreproachable from every standpoint, why can he not be my husband?"
+
+"Have you ever thought of what such a marriage entails?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Then do so now: think of every sacrifice, social and religious, it
+enforces; think of the great difference between the Jewish race and
+the Christians; and if, after you have measured with the deadliest
+earnestness every duty that married life brings, you can still believe
+that you will be happy, then marry him."
+
+"With your blessing?" Her lovely, pleading eyes still held his.
+
+"Always with my blessing, child. One thing more: did Dr. Kemp mention
+anything of this to you?"
+
+"No; he must have forgotten it as I did, or rather, if I ever thought of
+it, it was a mere passing shadow. I put it aside with the thought that
+though you and I had never discussed such a circumstance, judging by all
+your other actions in our relations with Christians, you would be above
+considering such a thing a serious obstacle to two people's happiness."
+
+"You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down to
+detail, and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas. However, I
+shall remind Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then--you will
+not object to this?"
+
+"Oh, no; but I know--I know--" What did she know except of the greatness
+of his love that would annihilate all her father's forebodings?
+
+"Yes," her father answered the half-spoken thought; "I know too. But
+ponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night,
+when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase of
+this terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say."
+
+Love is so selfish. Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she had
+never failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and the
+sad eyes of her father.
+
+"Your mother will soon be awake," he said; "had you not better go back?"
+
+Something that she had expected was wanting in this meeting; she looked
+at him reproachfully, her mouth visibly trembling.
+
+"What is it?" he asked gently.
+
+"Why, Father, you are so cold and hard, and you have not even--"
+
+"Wait till Monday night, Ruth. Then I will do anything you ask me. Now
+go back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet. I
+shall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something to
+think of."
+
+That afternoon Dr. Kemp received the following brief note:--
+
+
+BEACHAM'S, August 25, 188--
+
+DR. KEMP:
+
+DEAR SIR,--Have you forgotten that my daughter is a Jewess; that you
+are a Christian? Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider this
+question from every possible point of view. If then both you and my
+daughter can satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedly
+have, I shall raise no obstacle to your desires.
+
+Sincerely your friend,
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+
+In the mean time Ruth was thinking it all out. Love was blinding her,
+dazzling her; and the giants that rose before her were dwarfed into
+pygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only in
+smiling at their feebleness. Love was an Armada, and bore down upon the
+little armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms.
+
+Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as little
+Rose Delano stood in Ruth's room looking up into her friend's face, the
+dreamy, starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples about
+the corners of her mouth, the whole air of a mysterious something,
+baffled and bewildered her.
+
+Upon Ruth's writing-table rested a basket of delicate Marechal Niel
+buds, almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was not
+unknown.
+
+"It has agreed well with you, Miss Levice," said Rose, in her gentle,
+patient voice, that seemed so out of keeping with her young face. "You
+look as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir."
+
+"So I have," laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; "it
+has made a 'nut-brown mayde' of me, I think, Rosebud. But tell me the
+city news. Everything in running order? Tell me."
+
+"Everything is as your kind help has willed it. I have a pleasant little
+room with a middle-aged couple on Post Street. Altogether I earn ten
+dollars over my actual monthly expenses. Oh, Miss Levice, when shall I
+be able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?"
+
+"Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that is
+why I am so happy."
+
+"You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes. Yet the
+first time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have a
+history."
+
+"Sad?" The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.
+
+She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice
+sounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.
+
+"I am no sorceress," she answered evasively but lightly; "look in the
+glass and see."
+
+"You remind me of Floy Tyrrell. Pooh! Let us talk of something else.
+Then it can't be Wednesdays?"
+
+"It can be any day. The Page children can have Friday."
+
+"Do you know how Mr. Page is?"
+
+"Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed
+Friday?"
+
+"No." She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of
+blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had
+had one lesson.
+
+"I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss
+Dora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little
+ones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One
+of the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very
+delicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped
+quietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out
+of one of the rooms. He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately;
+and though I wished to pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my
+hand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss
+Levice, he has no parallel but himself!"
+
+It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It
+was only very sweet and true.
+
+"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that
+was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his
+strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me
+if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
+
+"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression
+rested upon her face till evening.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVII
+
+Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy,
+low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was
+partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice.
+If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten
+in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had
+spoken a few disturbing words to her:
+
+"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain
+project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early,
+and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him."
+
+At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He
+was regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
+
+"Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" she
+questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
+
+"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm
+reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I
+told you to consider, Ruth?"
+
+"No, Father."
+
+She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in
+childhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn
+this same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the
+pain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand
+never could have done.
+
+She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown,
+that fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color
+was upon her.
+
+A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted
+drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
+
+When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him
+immediately.
+
+She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some
+old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of
+all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose
+slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her
+swiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are you
+tired of me already, love?"
+
+"Not of you; of waiting," she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
+
+"I hardly expected this," he said after a pause; "has your father flown
+bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?"
+
+"Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while,
+was it not?" she asked simply.
+
+"It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your
+exit on his entrance."
+
+"No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the role of the audience
+to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"
+
+He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted
+him settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it
+quickly to his breast.
+
+"I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at any
+rate on the main point,--that we love each other. Always that, darling?"
+
+"Always that--love."
+
+The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilled
+him oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth moved
+like a bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step had
+given her the momentary courage thus to address him.
+
+He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed a
+striking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;
+Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silvery
+hair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, served
+as a foil to the other's bright, handsome figure.
+
+Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is more
+thoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is a
+freemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is a
+sign of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise.
+Levice's hand closed tightly about the doctor's large one; there was a
+great feeling of mutual respect between these two.
+
+"How are you and your wife?" asked the doctor, seating himself in a low,
+silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.
+
+"She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed. She wished
+to be remembered to you." As he spoke, he half turned his head to where
+Ruth sat in a corner, a little removed.
+
+"Why do you sit back there, Ruth?"
+
+She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up the
+curious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of an
+isosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles of
+the base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking each
+point an alien from the others.
+
+There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seated
+herself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from the
+sconce behind fell upon her father's head, each silvery hair seemed to
+speak of quiet old age.
+
+Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.
+
+"Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bush
+the thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, in
+person, what I asked you in writing last Friday,--will you give me your
+daughter to be my wife?"
+
+"I will answer you as I did in writing. Have you considered that you are
+a Christian; that she is a Jewess?"
+
+"I have."
+
+It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.
+
+"And you, my child?" he addressed her in the old sweet way that she had
+missed in the afternoon.
+
+"I have also done so to the best of my ability."
+
+"Then you have found it raised no barrier to your desire to become Dr.
+Kemp's wife?"
+
+"None."
+
+The two men drew a deep breath at the sound of the little decisive word,
+but with a difference. Kemp's face shone exultantly. Levice pressed his
+lips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veined
+hands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quite
+peaceful.
+
+"It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by their
+children upon their choice of husband or wife. In France the parents are
+consulted before the daughter; it is not a bad plan. It often saves some
+unnecessary pangs--for the daughter. I am sorry in this case that we are
+not living in France."
+
+"Then you object?" Kemp almost hurled the words at him.
+
+"I crave your patience," answered the old man, slowly; "I have grown
+accustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in this
+instance. But as you have put the question, I may answer you now. I do
+most solemnly and seriously object."
+
+Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly. The doctor
+also changed color.
+
+"My child," Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, "by
+allowing you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with my
+apparent sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done you
+a great wrong; I admit it with anguish. I ask your forgiveness."
+
+"Don't, Father!"
+
+Dr. Kemp's clinched hand came down with force upon his knee. He
+was white to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strong
+decisiveness rang unmistakably in every word.
+
+"Mr. Levice, I trust I am not speaking disrespectfully," he began,
+his manly voice plainly agitated, "but I must say that it was a great
+oversight on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as she
+is, into Christian society,--put her right in the way of loving or being
+loved by any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairs
+could lead to nothing. It was not only wrong, but, holding such views,
+it was cruel."
+
+"I acknowledge my culpability; my only excuse lies in the fact that such
+an event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination. If
+it had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscience
+and bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to think
+seriously upon such an issue."
+
+"But, sir, I do not understand your exception; you are not orthodox."
+
+"No; but I am intensely Jewish," answered the old man, proudly regarding
+his antagonist. "I tell you I object to this marriage; that is not
+saying I oppose it. There are certain things connected with it of
+which neither you nor my daughter have probably thought. To me they
+are all-powerful obstacles to your happiness. Being an old man and more
+experienced, will you permit me to suggest these points? My friend, I
+am seeking nothing but my child's happiness; if, by opening the eyes
+of both of you to what menaces her future welfare, I can avert what
+promises but a sometime misery, I must do it, late though it may be. If,
+when I have stated my view, you can convince me that I am wrong, I shall
+be persuaded and admit it. Will you accept my plan?"
+
+Kemp bowed his head. The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyes
+deepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice.
+Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote and
+shadowy.
+
+"As you say," began Levice, "we are not orthodox; but before we become
+orthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested with
+certain hereditary traits that are unconvertible. Every Jew bears in his
+blood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel. The
+farther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance.
+In most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we have
+been set upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginning
+to smile,--that is, some of us. Those whose fathers were helped on
+are nearer the man as he should be than those whose fathers are still
+grovelling. My child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture and
+refinement can give. She is not an exception; there are thousands like
+her among our Jewish girls. Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew from
+his coarser surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and he
+will stand forth the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mix
+forever with pitch and remain undefiled."
+
+"No man could," observed Kemp, as Levice paused. "But what are these
+things to me?"
+
+"Nothing; but to Ruth, much. That is part of the bar-sinister between
+you. Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in my
+family; but there are many families, people we visit and love, who,
+though possessing all the substrata of goodness, have never been moved
+to cast off the surface thorns that would prick your good taste as
+sharply as any physical pain. This, of course, is not because they are
+Jews, but because they lack refining influences in their surroundings.
+We look for and excuse these signs; many Christians take them as the
+inevitable marks of the race, and without looking further, conclude that
+a cultured Jew is an impossibility."
+
+"Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you who
+number so many of them among your friends should not make such sweeping
+assertions. The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader."
+
+"True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom my
+child would be, without doubt, ostracized. This only by your people; by
+ours it would be worse,--for she will have raised a terrible barrier by
+renouncing her religion."
+
+"I shall never renounce my religion, Father."
+
+"Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would be
+cut adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where they
+rightfully belong to where they are not wanted."
+
+"Sir," interrupted Kemp, "allow me to show you wherein such a state of
+affairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence. The friends we
+care for and who care for us will not drop off if we remain unchanged.
+Because I love your daughter and she loves me, and because we both
+desire our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein have
+we erred? We shall still remain the same man and woman."
+
+"Unhappily the world would not think so."
+
+"Then let them hold to their bigoted opinion; it is valueless, and
+having each other, we can dispense with them."
+
+"You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would be
+impossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up of
+more than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched. The
+knowledge that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter."
+
+"But such knowledge," interrupted Ruth's sweet voice, "would be robbed
+of all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love."
+
+Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly to
+his.
+
+"Very well," he responded; "count the world as nothing. You have just
+said, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion. How could that
+be when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?"
+
+"I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any man
+who would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into his
+life. As for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one. My God is
+fixed and unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinity
+would be to deny his omnipotence. As to forms, you, Father, have bred in
+me a contempt for all but a few. Saturday will always be my Sabbath, no
+matter what convention would make me do. We have decided that writing
+or sewing or pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on that
+day than on another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander is
+more so. But on that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is the
+force of custom. Any day would do as well if we were used to it,--for
+who can tell which was the first and which the seventh counting from
+creation? On our New Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of time
+had passed; but I live only according to one record of time, and my New
+Year falls always on the 1st of January. Atonement is a sacred day to
+me; I could not desecrate it. Our services are magnificently beautiful,
+and I should feel like a culprit if debarred from their holiness. As to
+fasting, you and I have agreed that any physical punishment that keeps
+our thoughts one moment from God, and puts them on the feast that is to
+come, is mere sham and pretence. After these, Father, wherein does our
+religion show itself?"
+
+"Surely," he replied with some bitterness, "we hold few Jewish rites.
+Well, and so you think you can keep these up? And you, Dr. Kemp?"
+
+Dr. Kemp had been listening attentively while Ruth spoke. His eyes
+kindled brightly as he answered,--
+
+"Why should she not? If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, body
+and soul, as she is to me, what is to prevent her from so continuing?
+And if my wife would permit me to go with her upon her holidays to your
+beautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I. Loving
+her, what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me."
+
+Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich their
+lives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them that
+made every shot of his harmless.
+
+"I can understand," he ventured, "that no gentleman with self-respect
+would, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person's religion.
+You, Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that has
+withstood everything and has never yet been sneered at, however its
+followers have been persecuted. Many of its minor forms are slowly dying
+out and will soon be remembered only historically; this history belongs
+to every one."
+
+"Certainly. Let us, however, stick to the point in question. You are a
+man who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off most
+of its unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my--for your
+daughter. This distinguishes you. If I were to say the characteristic
+has never been unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needs
+no excuse. Now, sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; more
+formally, a Unitarian. Our faiths are not widely divergent. We are both
+liberal; otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment. As
+to forms, for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity,--a
+sort of moral backbone without which they might fall. Sunday is to me a
+day of rest if my patients do not need me. I enjoy hearing a good sermon
+by any noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that,
+but for the pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentle
+stirring up. There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that is
+Christmas."
+
+"And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking for
+sympathy for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own home
+the wife whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watches
+your feelings with no answering sympathy? Will this not breed
+dissension, if not in words, at least in spirit? Will you not feel the
+want and resent it?"
+
+Dr. Kemp was silent. The question was a telling one and required
+thought; therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him. Her
+quiet voice carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of grave
+grace.
+
+She addressed her father; each had refrained from appealing to the
+other. The situation in the light of their new, great love was strained
+and unnatural.
+
+"I should endeavor that he should feel no lack," she said; "for so far
+as Christmas is concerned, I am a Christian also."
+
+"I do not understand." Her father's lips were dry, his voice husky.
+
+"Ever since I have been able to judge," explained the girl, quietly,
+"Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that ever
+lived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life."
+
+"Yes?" His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her to
+continue.
+
+"And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great and
+good. Later, when I had read his 'Sermon on the Mount,' I grew to see
+that what he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; it
+made me no less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness.
+To me he became the embodiment of Love in the highest,--Love perfect,
+but warm and human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinity
+to augment its power over us. He was God's attestation, God's symbol of
+what Man might be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So I
+may call myself a christian, though I spell it with a small letter. It
+is right that such a man's birthday should be remembered with love; it
+shows what a sweet power his name is, when, as that time approaches,
+everybody seems to love everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrong
+for me to participate in my husband's actions on that day?"
+
+She received no answer. She looked only at her father with loving
+earnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quite
+lost.
+
+"Would this be wrong, Father?" she urged.
+
+He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load. His dark,
+sallow face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.
+
+"I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion," he
+responded; "I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leap
+thus far. It were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No;
+you would be but giving your real feelings expression. But such an
+expression would grieve--Pardon; I am to consider your happiness." He
+seemed to swallow something, and hastily continued: "While we are still
+on this subject, are you aware, my child, that you could not be married
+by a Jewish rabbi?"
+
+She started perceptibly.
+
+"I should love to be married by Doctor C----." As she pronounced the
+grand old rabbi's name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.
+
+"I know. But you would have to take a justice as a substitute."
+
+"A Unitarian minister would be breaking no law in uniting us, and I
+think would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had no
+objection." The doctor looked at him questioningly. Levice answered by
+turning to Ruth. She passed her hand over her forehead.
+
+"Do you think," she asked, "that after a ceremony had been performed,
+Dr. C---- would bless us? As a friend, would he have to refuse?"
+
+"He would be openly sanctioning a marriage which according to the
+rabbinical law is no marriage at all. Do you think he would do this,
+notwithstanding his friendship for you?" returned her father. They both
+looked at him intently.
+
+"Ah, well," she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming to
+her pale lips, "it is but a sentiment, and I could forego it, I suppose.
+One must give up little things sometimes for great."
+
+"Yes; and this would be but the first. My children, there is something
+radically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much before
+marriage. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' and why should
+we add trouble to days already burdened before they come?"
+
+"We should find all this no trouble," said Kemp; "and what is to trouble
+us after? We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God's
+name, do you ask for more?"
+
+"As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people. Marriage is a step
+not entered into lightly. Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heard
+of with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages. We know
+beforehand what we have to expect from every quarter. No question I
+have put would be necessary with a Jew. His ways are ours, and, with few
+exceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him. How am
+I sure of this with you? In a moment of anger this difference of faith
+may be flung in each other's teeth, and what then?"
+
+"You mean you cannot trust me."
+
+The quiet, forceful words were accompanied by no sign of emotion. His
+deep eyes rested as respectfully as ever upon the old gentleman's face.
+But the attack was a hard one upon Levice. A vein on his temple sprang
+into blue prominence as he quickly considered his answer.
+
+"I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in any
+undertaking; but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect from
+you as I should have from any Jew who would ask for my daughter's hand."
+
+"I understand that," admitted the other; "but a few minutes ago you
+imputed a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to any
+gentleman. You may have heard of such happenings among some, but an
+event of that kind would be as removed from us as the meeting of the
+poles. Everything depends on the parties concerned."
+
+"Besides, Father," added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, "when
+one loves greatly, one is great through love. Can true married love ever
+be divided and sink to this?"
+
+The little white and gold clock ticked on; it was the only sound.
+Levice's forehead rested upon his hand over which his silvery hair hung.
+Kemp's strong face was as calm as a block of granite; Ruth's was pale
+with thought.
+
+Suddenly the old man threw back his head. They both started at the
+revelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in a
+strained smile.
+
+"I--I," he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance,--"I
+have one last suggestion to make. You may have children. What will be
+their religion?"
+
+The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp's face. As for
+the girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon her
+father's changed face.
+
+"Well?"
+
+The doctor gave one quick glance at Ruth and answered,--
+
+"If God should so bless us, I think the simple religion of love enough
+for childhood. Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let them
+choose for themselves, as all should be allowed."
+
+"And you, my Ruth?"
+
+A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically,--
+
+"I should be guided by my husband."
+
+The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back,
+dully reiterating, "Time flies, time flies."
+
+"I have quite finished," said Levice, rising.
+
+Kemp did likewise.
+
+"After all," he said deferentially, "you have not answered my question."
+
+"I--think--I--have," replied the old man, slowly. "But to what question
+do you refer?"
+
+"The simple one,--will you give me your daughter?"
+
+"No, sir; I will not."
+
+Kemp drew himself up, bowed low, and stood waiting some further word,
+his face ashy white. Levice's lips trembled nervously, and then he spoke
+in a gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrast
+to his former violence.
+
+"You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old,
+holds with me in this. I do not know how wildly she would take such a
+proposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shall
+not oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place my
+beliefs as an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it is
+she who will have to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have been
+friends; outside of this one great difference there is no man to whom I
+would more gladly trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentleman
+who has honored my child in his love for her. If I have hurt you in
+these bitter words, forgive me; as my daughter's husband, we must be
+more than friends."
+
+He held out his hand. The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,
+made answer somewhat confusedly,--
+
+"Mr. Levice, I thank you. I can say no more now, except that no son
+could love and honor you more than I shall."
+
+Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,
+looking straight ahead of her.
+
+"My darling," said her father, softly laying his hand on her head and
+raising her lovely face, "if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trust
+me, dear, it was through no lack of love for you. Do not consider me;
+forget, if you will, all I have said. You are better able, perhaps, than
+I to judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if after
+all this thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him.
+You know that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give you
+to him, I shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; you
+can pass through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl."
+
+His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped and
+kissed her. He wrung the doctor's hand again in passing, and abruptly
+turned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruth
+followed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the old
+man passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into place
+behind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.
+
+
+
+Chapter XVIII
+
+She was perfectly still. Her eyes seemed gazing into vacancy.
+
+"Ruth," he said softly; but she did not move. His own face showed signs
+of the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as if
+after a long, triumphant struggle. He came nearer and laid his hand
+gently upon her shoulder.
+
+"Love," he whispered, "have you forgotten me entirely?"
+
+His hand shook slightly; but Ruth gave no sign that she saw or heard.
+
+"This has been too much for you," he said, drawing her head to his
+breast. She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her face
+lily-white against him. They remained in this position for some minutes
+till he became alarmed at her passivity.
+
+"You are tired, darling," he said, stroking her cheek; "shall I leave
+you?"
+
+She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, and
+sprang to her feet. She turned giddy and swayed toward him. He caught
+her in his arms.
+
+"I am so dizzy," she laughed in a broken voice, looking with dry,
+shining eyes at him; "hold me for a minute."
+
+He experienced a feeling of surprise as she clasped her arms around his
+neck; Ruth had been very shy with her caresses.
+
+His eyes met hers in a long, strange look.
+
+"Of what are you thinking?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+"There is an old German song I used to sing," she replied musingly;
+"will you think me very foolish if I say it is repeating itself to me
+now, over and over again?"
+
+"What is it, dear?' he asked, humoring her.
+
+"Do you understand German? Oh, of course, my student; but this is a sad
+old song; students don't sing such things. These are some of the words:
+'Beh te Gott! es war zu schoen gewesen.' I wish--"
+
+"It is a miserable song," he said lightly; "forget it."
+
+She disengaged herself from his arms and sat down. Some late roisterers
+passing by in the street were heard singing to the twang of a mandolin.
+It was a full, deep song, and the casual voices blended in perfect
+accord. As the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him with
+a haunting smile.
+
+"People are always singing to us; I wish they wouldn't. Music is so sad;
+it is like a heart-break."
+
+He knelt beside her; he was a tall man, and the action seemed natural.
+
+"You are pale and tired," he said; "and I am going to take a doctor's
+privilege and send you to bed. To-morrow you can answer better what I
+so long to hear. You heard what your father said; your answer rests
+entirely with you. Will you write, or shall I come?"
+
+"Do you know," she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, "you
+have very pretty, soft dark hair? Does it feel as soft as it looks?"
+She raised her hand, and ran her fingers lingeringly through his short,
+thick hair.
+
+"Why," she said brightly, "here are some silvery threads on your
+temples. Troubles, darling?"
+
+"You shall pull them out," he answered, drawing her little hand to his
+lips.
+
+"There, go away," she said quickly, snatching it from him and moving
+from her chair as he rose. She rested her elbow on the mantel-shelf,
+and the candles from the silver candelabra shone on her face; it looked
+strained and weary. Kemp's brows gathered in a frown as he saw it.
+
+"I am going this minute," he said; "and I wish you to go to bed at once.
+Don't think of anything but sleep. Promise me you will go to bed as soon
+as I leave."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Good-night, sweetheart," he said, kissing her softly, "and dream happy
+dreams." He stooped again to kiss her hands, and moved toward the door.
+
+"Herbert!" His hand was on the portiere, and he turned in alarm at her
+strange call.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
+
+"Nothing. Don't--don't come back, I say. I just wished to see your face.
+I shall write to you. Good-night."
+
+And the curtain fell behind him.
+
+As he passed down the gravel walk, a hack drew up and stopped in front
+of the house. Louis Arnold sprang out. The two men came face to face.
+
+Arnold recognized the doctor immediately and drew back. When Kemp saw
+who it was, he bowed and passed on. Arnold did likewise, but he went in
+where the other went out.
+
+It was late, after midnight. He had just arrived on a delayed southern
+train. He knew the family had come home that morning. Dr. Kemp was
+rather early in making a visit; it had also taken him long to make it.
+
+Louis put his key in the latch and opened the door. It was very quiet;
+he supposed every one had retired. He flung his hat and overcoat on a
+chair and walked toward the staircase. As he passed the drawing-room,
+a stream of light came from beneath the portiere. He hesitated in
+surprise, everything was so quiet. Probably the last one had forgotten
+to put out the lights. He stepped noiselessly up and entered the room.
+His footfall made no sound on the soft carpet as he moved about putting
+out the lights. He walked to the mantel to blow out the candles, but
+stopped, dumfounded, within a foot of it. The thing that disturbed him
+was the motionless white figure of his cousin. It might have been a
+marble statue, so lifeless she seemed, though her face was hidden in her
+hands.
+
+For a moment Arnold was terrified; but the feeling was immediately
+succeeded by one of exquisite pain. He was a man not slow to conjecture;
+by some intuition he understood.
+
+He regained his presence of mind and turned quietly to quit the room;
+his innate delicacy demanded it. He had but turned when a low, moaning
+sound arrested him; he came back irresolutely.
+
+"Did you call, Ruth?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Ruth, it is I, Louis, who is speaking to you. Do you know how late it
+is?"
+
+With gentle force he drew her fingers from her face. The mute misery
+there depicted was pitiful.
+
+"Come, go to bed, Ruth," he said as to a child.
+
+She made a movement to rise, but sank back again.
+
+"I am so tired, Louis," she pleaded in a voice of tears, like a weary
+child.
+
+"Yes, I know; but I will help you." The unfamiliar, gentle quality of
+his voice penetrated even to her numbed senses.
+
+She had not seen him since the night he had asked her to be his wife. No
+remembrance of this came to her, but his presence held something new
+and restful. She allowed him to draw her to her feet; and as calmly as a
+brother he led her upstairs and into her room. Without a question he lit
+the gas for her.
+
+"Good-night, Ruth," he said, blowing out the match. "Go right to bed;
+your head will be relieved by sleep."
+
+"Thank you, Louis," she said, feeling dimly grateful for something his
+words implied; "good-night."
+
+Arnold noiselessly closed the door behind him. She quickly locked it and
+sat down in the nearest chair.
+
+Her hands were interlaced so tightly that her nails left imprints in
+the flesh. She had something to consider. Oh dear, it was such a simple
+thing; was she to break her father's heart, or her own and--his? Her
+father's, or his.
+
+It was so stupid to sit and repeat it. Surely it was decided long ago.
+Such a long time ago, when her father's loving face had put on its
+misery. Would it look that way always? No, no, no! She would not have
+it; she dared not; it was too utterly wretched.
+
+Still, there was some one else at the thought of whom her temples
+throbbed wildly. It would hurt him; she knew it. The thought for a
+moment was a miserable ecstasy; for he loved her,--her, simple Ruth
+Levice,--beyond all doubting she knew he loved her; and, oh, father,
+father, how she loved him! Why must she give it all up? she questioned
+fiercely; did she owe no duty to herself? Was she to drag out all the
+rest of her weary life without his love? Life! It would be a lingering
+death, and she was young yet in years. Other girls had married with
+graver obstacles, in open rupture with their parents, and they had been
+happy. Why could not she? It was not as if he were at fault; no one
+dared breathe a word against his fair fame. To look at his strong,
+handsome face meant confidence. That was when he left the room.
+
+Some one else had left the room also. Some one who had loved her all
+her life, some one who had grown accustomed in more than twenty years to
+listen gladly for her voice, to anticipate every wish, to hold her as
+in the palm of a loving hand, to look for and rest on her unquestioned
+love. He too had left the room; but he was not strong and handsome,
+poor, poor old father with his small bent shoulders. What a wretched
+thing it is to be old and have the heart-strings that have so
+confidently twisted themselves all these years around another rudely cut
+off,--and that by your only child!
+
+At the thought an icy quiet stole over her. How long she sat there,
+musing, debating, she did not know. When the gray dawn broke, she rose
+up calmly and seated herself at her writing-table. She wrote steadily
+for some time without erasing a single word. She addressed the envelope
+without a falter over the name.
+
+"That is over," she said audibly and deliberately.
+
+A cock crowed. It was the beginning of another day.
+
+
+
+Chapter XIX
+
+Dr. Kemp tossed the reins to his man, sprang from his carriage, and
+hurried into his house. "Burke!" he called while closing the door,
+"Burke!" He walked toward the back of the house and into the kitchen,
+still calling. Finding it empty, he walked back again and began a
+still hunt about the pieces of furniture in the various rooms. Being
+unsuccessful, he went into his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurried
+again to the kitchen.
+
+"Where have you been, Burke?" he exclaimed as that spare-looking
+personage turned, spoon in hand, from the range.
+
+"Right here, General," he replied in surprise, "except when I went out."
+
+"Well; did any mail come here for me?"
+
+"One little Billy-do, General. I put it under your dinner-plate; and
+shall I serve the soup?" the last was bellowed after his master's
+retreating form.
+
+"Wait till I ring," he called back.
+
+He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and sat
+down hastily, conscious of a slight excitement.
+
+His name and address stared at him from the white envelope in a round,
+firm hand. There was something about the loop-letters that reminded him
+of her, and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface. He did not
+break the seal for some minutes,--anticipation is sometimes sweeter than
+realization. Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for a
+second,--a boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished some
+expected pleasure to spring suddenly upon him. How would she address
+him? The memory of their last meeting gave him courage, and he opened
+his eyes. The denouement was disconcerting. Directly under the tiny
+white monogram she had begun without heading of any description:--
+
+It was cruel of me to let you go as I did: you were hopeful when you
+left. I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason. After all, it
+saved you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even then
+I knew it could never be. Never! Forever!--do you know the meaning of
+those two long words? I do. They have burned themselves irrevocably into
+my brain; try to understand them,--they are final.
+
+I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you know
+exactly how I still consider what is separating us. I am wrong. Only I
+am causing this separation; no one else could or would. Do not blame my
+father; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; he
+would think I am sacrificing my happiness for him. I have no doubt you
+think so now. Let me try to make you understand how different it really
+is. I am no Jephthah's daughter,--he wants no sacrifice, and I make
+none. Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me. You heard my
+father's words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoil
+upon your heart like a death's hand.
+
+I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward I
+am! Let me say it now,--I could never be happy with you. Do you remember
+Shylock,--the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a breaking
+heart? I could not make merry while he wept; my heart would weep also.
+You see how selfish I am; I am doing it for my own sake, and for no
+one's else.
+
+And that is why I ask you now to forgive me,--because I am not noble
+enough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I am
+a light person seemingly to play thus with a man's heart. If
+this reflection can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it sound
+presumptuous or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happy
+without me? Well, it is said hearts do not break for love,--that is, not
+quickly. If you will just think of what I have done, surely you will
+not regret your release; you may yet find a paradise with some other and
+better woman. No, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be
+happy. Why should not you, then,--you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. In
+your busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthy
+of spoiling your life for you.
+
+My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. I
+am such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgive
+me?
+
+RUTH.
+
+He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking
+soup.
+
+"I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring," he stammered, shocked at the
+altered face.
+
+"Take it away," said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. "I
+do not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not be
+disturbed."
+
+The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and
+went back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.
+
+Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his
+desk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It took
+a long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him as
+he laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could see
+the expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty
+feeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her,--how could
+he, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got up
+and paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling
+almost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves to
+him. "Paradise with some other, better woman,"--she might have left that
+out; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. "I too
+shall be happy." Not that, not some other man's wife,--the thought was
+demoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. "I must
+get out of this," he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hat
+and went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with
+it, and then came home and wrote to her:--
+
+I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word. Be happy if
+you can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much,--the fact that you are
+somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the
+living. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,
+the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever the
+need, remember--I am at hand.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answer
+was received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavy
+shadows around her eyes.
+
+"It is all over, Father," she said; "we have parted forever. Perhaps I
+did not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shall
+be happier with you, dear."
+
+"Are you sure, my darling?"
+
+"Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it is
+dead and buried; we must never remind each other of it again. Kiss me,
+Father, and forget that it has been."
+
+Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as he
+looked into her lovely, resolute face.
+
+
+
+Chapter XX
+
+We do not live wholly through ourselves. What is called fate is but the
+outcome of the spinning of other individuals twisted into the woof of
+our own making; so no life should be judged as a unit.
+
+Ruth Levice was not alone in the world; she was neither recluse nor
+a genius, but a girl with many loving friends and a genial home-life.
+Having resolved to bear to the world an unchanged front, she outwardly
+did as she had always done. Her mother's zealous worldliness returned
+with her health; and Ruth fell in with all her plans for a gay
+winter,--that is, the plans were gay; Ruth's presence could hardly be
+termed so. The old spontaneous laugh was superseded by a gentle smile,
+sympathetic perhaps, but never joyous. She listened more, and seldom now
+took the lead in a general conversation, though there was a charm about
+a tete-a-tete with her that earnest persons, men and women, felt without
+being able to define it. For the change, without doubt, was there.
+It was as if a quiet hand had been passed over her exuberant, happy
+girlhood and left a serious, thoughtful woman in its stead. A subtile
+change like this is not speedily noticed by outsiders; it requires usage
+before an acquaintance will account it a characteristic instead of a
+mood. But her family knew it. Mrs. Levice, wholly in the dark as to the
+cause, wondered openly.
+
+"You might be thirty, Ruth, instead of twenty-two, by the staidness
+of your demeanor. While other girls are laughing and chatting as girls
+should, you look on with the tolerant dignity of a woman of grave
+concerns. If you had anything to trouble you, there might be some
+excuse; but as it is, why can't you go into enjoyments like the rest of
+your friends?"
+
+"Don't I? Why, I hardly know another girl who lives in such constant
+gayety as I. Are we not going to a dinner this evening and to the ball
+to-morrow night?"
+
+"Yes; but you might as well be going to a funeral for all the pleasure
+you seem to anticipate. If you come to a ball with such a grandly
+serious air, the men will just as soon think of asking a statue to dance
+as you. A statue may be beautiful in its niche, but people do not care
+to study its meaning at a ball."
+
+"What do you wish me to do, Mamma? I should hate the distinction of a
+wall-flower, which you think imminent. I am afraid I am too big a woman
+to be frolicsome."
+
+"You never were that, but you were at least a girl. People will begin
+to think you consider yourself above them, or else that you have some
+secret trouble."
+
+The smile of incredulity with which she answered her would have been
+heart-breaking had it been understood. No flush stained the ivory pallor
+of her face at these thrusts in the dark; Louis was never annoyed
+in this way now. Her old-time excited contradictions never obtruded
+themselves in their conversations. A silent knowledge lay between them
+which neither, by word or look, ever alluded to. Mrs. Levice noted with
+delight their changed relations. Louis's sarcasm ceased to be directed
+at Ruth; and though the familiar sparring was missing, Mrs. Levice
+preferred his deferential bearing when he addressed her, and Ruth's
+grave graciousness with him. She drew her own conclusions, and accepted
+Ruth's quietness with more patience on this account.
+
+Louis understood somewhat; and in his manliness he could not hide that
+her suffering had cost him a new code of actions. But he could not
+understand as her father did. Despite her brave smile, Levice could
+almost read her heart-beats, and the knowledge brought a hardness and a
+bitter regret. He grew to scanning her face surreptitiously, looking
+in vain for the old, untroubled delight in things; and when the
+unmistakable signs of secret anguish would leave traces at times, he
+would turn away with a groan. Yet there was nothing to be done. He knew
+that her love had been no light thing nor could her giving up be so;
+but feeling that no matter what the present cost, the result would
+compensate, he trusted to time to heal the wound. Meanwhile his own
+self-blame at these times left its mark upon him.
+
+For Ruth lived a dual life. The real one was passed in her quiet
+chamber, in her long solitary walks, and when she sat with her book,
+apparently reading. She would look up with blank, despairing eyes,
+clinched hands, and hard-set teeth when the thought of him and all her
+loss would steal upon her. Her father had caught many such a look upon
+her face. She had resolved to live without him, but accomplishment is
+not so easy. Besides, it was not as if she never saw him. San Francisco
+is not so large a city but that by the turning of a corner you may not
+come across a friend. Ruth grew to study the sounds the different kinds
+of vehicles made; and the rolling wheels of a doctor's carriage behind
+her would set her pulses fluttering in fright.
+
+She was walking one day along Sutter Street toward Gough from Octavia.
+The street takes a sudden down-grade midway in the block. She was
+approaching this declension just before the Boys' High School when a
+carriage drove quickly up the hill toward her. The horses gave a bound
+as if the reins had been jerked; there was the momentary flash of a
+man's stern, white face as he raised his hat; and Ruth was walking down
+the hill, trembling and pale. It was the first time; and for one minute
+her heart seemed to stop beating and then rushed wildly on. Whether she
+had bowed or made any sign of recognition, she did not know. It did
+not matter, though; if he thought her cold or strange or anything, what
+difference could it possibly make? For her there would be left forever
+this dead emptiness. These casual meetings were inevitable; and she
+would come home after them worn-out and heavy-eyed. "A slight headache"
+was a recurrent excuse with her.
+
+They had common friends, and it would not have been surprising had she
+met him at the different affairs to which she went, always through her
+mother's desire. But the dread of coming upon him slowly departed as
+the months rolled by and with them all token of him. Time and again she
+would hear allusions to him. "Dr. Kemp has developed into a misogynist,"
+pouted Dorothy Gwynne. "He was one of the few decided eligibles on the
+horizon, but it requires the magnet of illness to draw him now. I really
+must look up the symptoms of a possible ache; the toilet and expression
+of an invalid are very becoming, you know."
+
+"Dr. Kemp made a splendid donation to our kindergarten to-day. I have
+not seen him since we were in the country, and he thought me looking
+very well. He inquired after the family, and I told him we had a
+residence, at which he smiled." This from Mrs. Levice. Ruth would have
+given much to have been able to ask after him with self-possession, but
+the muscles of her throat seemed to swell and choke her while silent.
+She went now and then to see Bob Bard in his flower-store; he would
+without fail inquire after "our friend" or tell her of his having passed
+that day. Here was her one chance of inquiring if he was looking well,
+to which the answer was invariably "yes."
+
+She sat one night at the opera in her wonted beauty, with her soft,
+dusky hair rolled from her sweet Madonna face. Many a lorgnette was
+raised a second and a third time toward her. Louis, seated next to her,
+resented with unaccountable ferocity this free admiration that she did
+not see or feel.
+
+As the curtain went down on the first act, he drew her attention to
+some celebrity then passing out. She raised her glass, but her hand fell
+nerveless in her lap. Immediately following him came Dr. Kemp. Their
+eyes met, and he bowed low, passing on immediately. The rest of the
+evening passed like a nightmare; she heard nothing but her heart-throbs,
+saw nothing but his beloved face regarding her with simple courtesy.
+Louis knew that for her the opera was over; the tell-tale bistrous
+shadows grew around her eyes, and she became deadly silent.
+
+"What a magnificent man he is," murmured Mrs. Levice, "and what an
+impressive bow he has!" Ruth did not hear her; but when she reached
+her own room, she threw herself face downward on her bed in intolerable
+anguish. She was not a girl who cried easily. If she had been, her
+suffering would not have been so intense,--when the flood-gates are
+opened, the river finds relief. Over and over again she wished she might
+die and end this eager, passionate craving for some token of love from
+him, or for the power of letting him know how it was with her. And it
+would always be thus as long as she lived. She did not deceive herself;
+no mere friendship would have sufficed,--all or nothing after what had
+been.
+
+Physically, however, she bore no traces of this continual restraint. On
+the contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions. Little
+children, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to be
+taken into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her. By
+degrees her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect and
+the sympathy of her face, and came to regard her as the queen of
+confidantes. Young girls with their continual love episodes and
+excitements, ambitious youths with their whimsical schemes of life and
+aspirations of love, sought her out openly. Few of these latter dared
+hope for any individual thought from her, though any of the older men
+would have staked a good deal for the knowledge that she singled him for
+her consideration.
+
+Arnold viewed it all with inward satisfaction. He regarded memory but
+as a sort of palimpsest; and he was patiently waiting until his own
+name should appear again, when the other's should have been sufficiently
+obliterated.
+
+It was a severe winter, and everybody appreciated the luxury of a warm
+home. December came in wet and cold, and la grippe held the country in
+its disagreeable hold. The Levices were congratulating themselves one
+evening on their having escaped the epidemic.
+
+"I suppose the secret of it lies in the fact that we do not coddle
+ourselves," observed Levice.
+
+"If you were to coddle yourself a little more," retorted his wife, "you
+would not cough every morning as you do. Really, Jules, if you do not
+consult a physician, I shall send for Kemp myself. I actually think it
+is making you thin."
+
+"Nonsense!" he replied carelessly; "it is only a little irritation of
+the throat every morning. If the weather is clear next week, I must go
+to New York. Eh, Louis?"
+
+"At this time of the year!" cried Mrs. Levice, in expostulation.
+
+"Some one has to go, and the only one that should is I."
+
+"I think I could manage it," said Louis, "if you would see about the
+other adjustment while I am gone."
+
+"No, you could not,"--when Levice said "no," it seldom meant an ultimate
+"yes." "Besides, the trip will do me good."
+
+"I shall go with you," put in Mrs. Levice, decidedly.
+
+"No, dear; you could not stand the cold in New York, and I could not be
+bothered with a woman's grip-sack."
+
+"Take Ruth, then."
+
+"I should love to go with you, Father," she replied to the questioning
+glance of his eyes. He seemed to ponder over it for a while, but shook
+his head finally.
+
+"No," he said again; "I shall be very busy, and a woman would be a
+nuisance to me. Besides, I wish to be alone for a while."
+
+They all looked at him in surprise; he was so unused to making testy
+remarks.
+
+"Grown tired of womankind?" asked Mrs. Levice, playfully. "Well, if
+you must, you must; don't overstay your health and visit, and bring us
+something pretty. How long will you be gone?"
+
+"That depends on the speediness of the courts. No more than three weeks
+at the utmost, however."
+
+So the following Wednesday being bright and sunny, he set off; the
+family crossed the bay with him.
+
+"Take care of your mother, Ruth," he said at parting, "and of yourself,
+my pale darling."
+
+"Don't worry about me, Father," she said, pulling up his furred collar;
+"indeed, I am well and happy. If you could believe me, perhaps you would
+love me as much as you used to."
+
+"As much! My child, I never loved you better than now; remember that. I
+think I have forgotten everybody else in you."
+
+"Don't, dear! it makes me feel miserable to think I should cause you a
+moment's uneasiness. Won't you believe that everything is as I wish it?"
+
+"If I could, I should have to lose the memory of the last four months.
+Well, try your best to forgive me, child."
+
+"Unless you hate me, don't hurt me with that thought again. I forgive
+you? I, who am the cause of it all?"
+
+He kissed her tear-filled eyes tenderly, and turned with a sign to her
+mother.
+
+They watched to the last his loved face at the window, Ruth with a sad
+smile and a loving wave of her handkerchief.
+
+Over at the mole it is not a bad place to witness tragedies. Pathos
+holds the upper hand, and the welcomes are sometimes as heart-rending as
+the leave-takings. A woman stood on the ferry with a blank, working face
+down which the tears fell heedlessly; a man, her husband, turned from
+her, drew his hat down over his eyes, and stalked off toward the
+train without a backward glance. Parting is a figure of death in this
+respect,--that only those who are left need mourn; the others have
+something new beyond.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXI
+
+The fire-light threw grotesque shadows on the walls. Ruth and Louis in
+the library made no movement to ring for lights; it was quite cosey as
+it was. They had both drawn near the crackling wood-blaze, Ruth in a low
+rocker, Arnold in Mr. Levice's broad easy-chair.
+
+"I surely thought you intended going to the concert this evening,
+Louis," she said, looking across at him. "I fancy Mamma expected you to
+accompany her."
+
+"What! Voluntarily put myself into the cold when there is a fire blazing
+right here? Ah, no. At any rate, your mother is all right with the
+Lewises, and I am all right with you."
+
+"I give you a guarantee I shall not bite; you look altogether too hard
+for my cannibalistic propensities."
+
+"It is something not to be accounted soft. I think a redundancy of flesh
+overflows in trickling sentimentality. My worst enemy could not accuse
+me of either fault."
+
+"But your best friend would not mind a little thaw now and then. One of
+the girls confided to me today that walking on and over-waxed floor was
+nothing to attempting an equal footing in conversation with you."
+
+"I am sorry I am such a slippery customer. Does not the fire burn your
+face? Shall I hand you a screen?"
+
+"No; I like to toast."
+
+"But your complexion might char; move your chair a little forward."
+
+"In two minutes I intend to have lights and to bring my work down. Will
+it make you tired to watch me?"
+
+"Exceedingly. I prefer your undivided attention; it is not often we are
+alone, Ruth."
+
+She looked up slightly startled; he seldom made personal remarks. Her
+pulses began to flutter with the premonition that reference to a tacitly
+buried secret was going to be made.
+
+"We have been going out and receiving a good deal lately, though somehow
+I don't feel festive, with Father away in freezing New York. Mamma would
+gladly have stayed at home to-night if Jennie had not insisted."
+
+"You think so? I fancy she was a very willing captive; she intimated as
+much to me."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Not in words, but her eyes were interesting reading: first,
+capitulation to Jennie, then, in rapid succession, inspiration, command,
+entreaty, a challenge and retreat, all directed at me. Possibly this
+eloquence was lost upon you."
+
+"Entirely. What was your interpretation?"
+
+"Ah, that was confidential. Perhaps I even endowed her with these
+thoughts, knowing her desires were in touch with my own."
+
+"It is wanton cruelty to arouse a woman's curiosity and leave it
+unsatisfied."
+
+"It is not cruelty; it is cowardice."
+
+She gazed at him in wonder. His apple-blossom cheeks wore a rosier glow
+than usual. He seized a log from the box, threw it on the blaze that
+illumined their faces, grasped the poker, and leaning forward in his
+chair let it grow hot as he held it to the flames. His glasses fell off,
+dangling from the cord; and as he adjusted them, he caught the curious,
+half-amused smile on Ruth's attentive face. He gave the fire a sharp
+raking and addressed her, gazing into the leaping flames.
+
+"I was wondering why, after all, you could not be happy as my wife."
+
+A numbness as of death overspread her.
+
+"I think I could make you happy, Ruth."
+
+In the pregnant silence that followed he looked up, and meeting her sad,
+reproachful eyes, laid down the poker softly but resolutely; there was
+method in the action.
+
+"In fact, I know I could make you happy."
+
+"Louis, have you forgotten?" she cried in sharp pain.
+
+"I have forgotten nothing," he replied incisively. "Listen to me, Ruth.
+It is because I remember that I ask you. Give me the right to care
+for you, and you will be happier than you can ever be in these
+circumstances."
+
+"You do not know what you ask, Louis. Even if I could, you would never
+be satisfied."
+
+"Try me, Ruth," he entreated.
+
+She raised herself from her easy, reclining position, and regarded him
+earnestly.
+
+"What you desire," she said in a restrained manner, "would be little
+short of a crime for me. What manner of wife should I be to you when my
+every thought is given to another?"
+
+His face put on the set look of one who has shut his teeth hard
+together.
+
+"I anticipated this repulse," he said after a pause; "so what you have
+just assured me of does not affect my wish or my resolution to continue
+my plea."
+
+"Would you marry a woman who feels herself as closely bound to another,
+or the memory of another, as if the marriage rite had been actually
+performed? Oh, Louis, how could you force me to these disclosures?"
+
+"I am seeking no disclosure, but it is impossible for me to continue
+silent now."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why? Because I love you."
+
+They sat so close together he might have touched her by putting out his
+hand, but he remained perfectly still, only the pale excitement of long
+repression speaking from his face; but she shrank back at his words and
+raised her hand as if about to receive a blow.
+
+"Do not be alarmed," he continued, noticing the action; "my love cannot
+hurt you, or it would have killed you long ago."
+
+"Oh, Louis," she murmured, "forgive me; I never thought you cared so
+much."
+
+"How should you? I am not a man to wear my heart upon my sleeve. I think
+I have always loved you; but living as familiarly as we have lived,
+seeing you whenever I wished, the thought that some day this might end
+never occurred to me. It was only when the possibility of some other
+man's claiming your love and taking you from me presented itself, that
+my heart rose up in arms against it,--and then I asked you to be my
+wife."
+
+"Yes," she replied, raising her pale face; "and I refused. The same
+cause that moved me then, and to which you submitted without protest,
+rules me now, and you know it."
+
+"No; I do not know it. What then might have had a possible issue is now
+done with--or do I err?"
+
+Her mouth trembled piteously, but no tears came as she lowered her head.
+
+"Then listen to me. You may think me a poor sort of a fellow even to
+wish you to marry me when you assure me that you love another. That
+means that you do not love me as a husband should be loved, but it does
+not prove that you never could love me so."
+
+"It proves just that."
+
+"No, you may think so now, but let me reason you into seeing the falsity
+of your thought,--for I do not wish to force or impel you to do a thing
+repugnant to your reason as well as to your feelings. To begin with, you
+do not dislike me?"
+
+His face was painful in its eagerness.
+
+"I have always loved you as a dear brother."
+
+"Some people would consider that worse than hostility; I do not. Another
+question: Is there anything about my life or personality to which you
+object, or of which your are ashamed?"
+
+"You know how proud we all are of you in your bearing in every relation
+of life."
+
+"I was egotist enough to think as much at any rate; otherwise I
+could not approach you so confidently. Well, love--indifferent if you
+will--and respect are not a bad foundation for something stronger. Will
+you, for the sake of argument, suppose that for some reason you have
+forgotten your opposition and have been led into marrying me?"
+
+The sad indulgence of her smile was not inspiriting, but he continued,--
+
+"Now, then, say you are my wife; that means I am your husband, and I
+love you. You do not return my love, you say; you think you would be
+wretched with me because you love another. Still, you are married to me;
+that gives me rights that no other man can possess, no matter how much
+you love him. You are bound to me, I to you and your happiness; so I
+pledge myself to make you happier than you are now, because I shall make
+you forget this man."
+
+"You could not, and I should only grow to hate you."
+
+"Impossible," the pallor of his face intensifying; "because I should
+so act that my love would wait upon your pleasure: it would never push
+itself into another's place, but it would in time overshadow the other.
+For, remember, I shall be your husband. I shall give you another life;
+I shall take you away with me. You will leave all your old friends
+and associations for a while, and I shall be with you always,--not
+intrusively, but necessarily. I shall give you every pleasure and
+novelty that the Old World can afford. I shall shower my love on you,
+not myself. In return I shall expect your tolerance. In time I will make
+you love me."
+
+His voice shook with the strength of his passion, while she listened in
+heart-sick fear. Carried away by his manner, she almost felt as if he
+had accomplished his object. He quieted down after this.
+
+"Don't you see, Ruth, that all this change must make you forget? And if
+you tried to put the past from you for no other reason than that your
+wifehood would be less untrue, you would be but following the instincts
+of a truly honorable woman. After that, all would be easy. In every
+instance you would be forced to look upon me as your husband, for you
+would belong to me. I should be the author of all your surroundings; and
+always keeping in mind how I want you to regard me, I should woo you so
+tenderly that without knowing it you would finally yield. Then, and only
+then, when I had filled your thought to the exclusion of every other
+man, I should bring you home; and I think we should be happy."
+
+"And you would be satisfied to give so much and receive so little?"
+
+"The end would repay me."
+
+"It is a pretty story," she said, letting her hands fall listlessly into
+her lap, "but the denouement is a castle in Spain that we should never
+inhabit. You think your love is strong enough to kill mine first of
+all; well, I tell you, nothing is strong enough for that. With this fact
+established the rest is needless to speak of. It is only your dream,
+Louis; forgive me that I unwittingly intruded into it; reality would
+mean disillusion,--we are happy only when we dream."
+
+"You are bitter."
+
+"Our relations are turned, then; I have put into practice your old
+theories of the uselessness of life. No; I am wrong. It is better to die
+than not to have loved."
+
+"You think you have lived your life, then. I can't convince you
+otherwise now; but I am going to beg you to think this over, to try
+to imagine yourself my wife. I will not hasten your decision, but in a
+week's time you should be able to answer me yes or no. If anything can
+help my cause, I cannot overlook it; so I may tell you now that for some
+occult reason your mother's one wish is to see you my wife."
+
+"And my father?" her voice was harsh now.
+
+"Your father has expressed to your mother that such a course would make
+him happy."
+
+She rose suddenly as if oppressed. Her face looked hard to a degree. She
+stood before him, tall and rigid. He stood up and faced her, reading
+her face so intently that he straightened himself as if to receive an
+attack.
+
+"I will consider what you have said," she said mechanically.
+
+The reaction was so unexpected that he turned giddy and caught on to the
+back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+"It will not take me a week," she went on with no change in her
+monotone; "I can give you an answer in a day or two. To-morrow night,
+perhaps."
+
+He made a step forward, a movement to seize her hand; but she stepped
+back and waved him off.
+
+"Don't touch me," she cried in a suppressed voice; "at least you are not
+my husband--yet."
+
+She turned hastily toward the door without another word.
+
+"Wait!"
+
+His vibrant voice compelled her to turn.
+
+"I want no martyr for a wife, nor yet a tragedy queen. If you can come
+to me and honestly say, 'I trust my happiness to you,' well and good.
+But as I told you once before, I am not a saint, and I cannot always
+control myself as I have been forced to do tonight. If this admission is
+damaging, it is too true to be put lightly aside. I shall not detain you
+longer."
+
+He looked haughty and cold regarding her from this dim distance. Her
+gentleness struggled to get the better of her, and she came back and
+held out her hand.
+
+"I am sorry if I offended you, Louis; good-night. Will you not pardon my
+selfishness?"
+
+His eyes gleamed behind their glasses; he did not take her hand, but
+merely bent over the little peace-offering as over a sacrament. Seeing
+that he had no intention of doing more, her hand fell passively to her
+side, and she left the room.
+
+As the door closed softly, Arnold sank with a hopeless gesture into
+a chair and buried his face in his hands. He was not a stoic, but a
+man,--a Frenchman, who loved much; but Arnold, half-blinded by his own
+love, scarcely appreciated the depths of self-forgetfulness to which
+Ruth would have to succumb in order to accept the guaranty of happiness
+which he offered her.
+
+The question now presented itself in the light of a duty: if by this
+action she could undo the remorse that her former offence had inflicted,
+had she the right to ignore the opportunity? A vision of her own sad
+face obtruded itself, but she put it sternly from her. If she were to do
+this thing, the motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly kept
+in view the fact that her marriage would be the only means by which her
+father might be relieved of the haunting knowledge of her lost peace
+of mind. Had she given one thought to Louis, the possibility of the act
+would have been abhorrent to her. One picture she kept constantly before
+her,--her father's happy eyes.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXII
+
+Mrs. Levice's gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was
+embroidering to Ruth's pale face. Every time the latter stirred, her
+mother started expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not
+forthcoming. Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the
+feeling of comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call
+comfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth's face had at last
+led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark
+shadows about her eyes meant something decidedly not gladsome.
+
+"Don't you feel well, Ruth?" she asked finally with some anxiety.
+
+Ruth raised her heavy eyes.
+
+"I? Oh, I feel perfectly well. Why do you ask? Do I look ill?"
+
+"Yes, you do; your face is pale, and your eyes look tired. Did you sit
+up late last night?"
+
+This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so
+evident to her now.
+
+"No," she replied; "I believe it could not have been nine when I went
+upstairs."
+
+"Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis's company
+unpleasant?"
+
+"Oh, no," was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page
+again.
+
+Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such
+tactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of
+which her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almost
+positive that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash
+of intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. It
+was natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so
+reserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something
+more.
+
+"For my part," she observed, as if continuing a discussion, "I
+think Louis charming in a tete-a-tete,--when he feels inclined to
+be interesting he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worth
+repeating? It is a dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little."
+
+She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and
+encountered Ruth's full, questioning gaze.
+
+"What is it you would like to know, Mamma?" she asked in a gentle voice.
+
+"Nothing that you do not wish to tell," her mother answered proudly, but
+regarding her intently.
+
+Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment
+before answering.
+
+"I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had
+decided I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked me
+to--marry him."
+
+The avowal was not made with the conventional confusion and trembling.
+
+Mrs. Levice was startled by the dead calm of her manner.
+
+"You say that as if it were a daily occurrence for a man like Louis
+Arnold to offer you his hand and name."
+
+"I hope not."
+
+"But you do. I confess I think you are not one tenth as excited as I am.
+Why didn't you tell me before? Any other girl would have sat up to tell
+her mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have been
+looking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean by
+saying you wished to wait till you had decided? Decided what?"
+
+"Upon my answer."
+
+"As if you could question it, you fortunate girl! Or were you waiting
+for me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have been
+honored."
+
+"Honor is not everything, Mamma."
+
+At that moment a desperate longing for her mother's sympathy seized
+her; but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would
+occasion came to her, and her lips remained closed.
+
+"No," responded her mother, "and you have more than that; surely Louis
+did not neglect to tell you."
+
+"You mean his love, I suppose,--yes, I have that."
+
+"Then what else would you have? You probably know that he can give you
+every luxury within reason,--so much for honest practicality. As to
+Louis himself, the most fastidious could find nothing to cavil at,--he
+will make you a perfect husband. You are familiar enough with him to
+know his faults; but no man is faultless. I hope you are not so silly
+as to expect some girlish ideal,--for all the ideals died in the Golden
+Age, you know."
+
+"As mine did. No; I have outgrown imagination in that line."
+
+"Then why do you hesitate?" Her mother's eyes were shining; her face
+was alive with the excitement of hope fulfilled. "Is there anything else
+wanting?"
+
+"No," she responded dully; "but let us not talk about it any more,
+please. I must see Louis again, you know."
+
+"If your father were here, he could help you better, dear;" there was no
+reproach in Mrs. Levice's gentle acceptance of the fact; "he will be so
+happy over it. There, kiss me, girlie; I know you like to think things
+out in silence, and I shall not say another word about it till you give
+me leave."
+
+She kept her word. The dreary afternoon dragged on. By four o-clock it
+was growing dark, and Mrs. Levice became restless.
+
+"I am going to my room to write to your father now,--he shall have a
+good scolding for the non-receipt of a letter to-day;" and forthwith she
+betook herself upstairs.
+
+Ruth closed her book and moved restlessly about the room. She wandered
+over to the front window, and drawing aside the silken curtain, looked
+out into the storm-tossed garden. The pale heliotropes lay wet and sweet
+against the trellises; some loosened rose-petals fluttered noiselessly
+to the ground; only the gorgeous chrysanthemums looked proudly
+indifferent to the elements; and the beautiful, stately palm-tree just
+at the side of the window spread its gracious arms like a protecting
+temple. She felt suddenly oppressed and feverish, and threw open the
+long French window. The rain had ceased for the time, and she stepped
+out upon the veranda. The fragrance of the rain-soaked flowers stole to
+her senses; the soft, sweet breeze caressed her temples; she stood still
+in the perfumed freshness and enjoyed its peace. By and by she began to
+walk up and down. Evening was approaching, and Louis would soon be home.
+She had decided to meet him on his return and have it over with. She
+must school herself to some show of graciousness. The thing must not be
+done by halves or it must not be done at all. Her father's happiness;
+over and over she repeated it. She went so far as to picture herself in
+his arms; she heard the old-time words of blessing; she saw his smiling
+eyes; and a gentleness stole over her whole face, a gentle nobility that
+made it strangely sweet. The soft patter of rain on the gravel roused
+her, and she went in; but she felt better, and wished Louis might come
+in while the mood was upon her.
+
+It was nearing six when Mrs. Levice came back humming a song.
+
+"I thought you would still be here. Make a light, will you, Ruth; it is
+as pitchy as Hades, only that smouldering log looks purgatorial."
+
+Ruth lit the gas; and as she stood with upturned eyes adjusting the
+burner, her mother noticed that the heaviness had departed from her
+face. She sank into a rocker and took up the evening paper.
+
+"What time is it, Ruth?"
+
+"Twenty minutes to six," she answered, glancing at the clock.
+
+"As late as that?" She meant to say, "And Louis not home yet?" but
+forbore to mention his name.
+
+"It is raining heavily now," said Ruth, throwing a log upon the fire.
+Mrs. Levice unfolded the crackling newspaper, and Ruth moved over to the
+window to draw down the blinds. As she stood looking out with her hand
+on the chair, she saw the gate swing slowly open, and a messenger-boy
+came dawdling up the walk as if the sun were streaming full upon him.
+
+Ruth stepped noiselessly out, meaning to anticipate his ring. A vague
+foreboding drove the blood from her lips as she stood waiting at
+the open hall-door. Seeing the streaming light, the boy managed to
+accelerate his snail's pace.
+
+"Miss Ruth Levice live here?" he asked, stopping in the doorway.
+
+"Yes." She took the packet he handed her. "Any charges or answers?" she
+asked.
+
+"Nom," answered the boy; and noticing her pallor and apprehension, "I'll
+shet the door for you," he added, laying his hand on the knob.
+
+"Thank you. Here, take two cars if necessary; it is too wet to walk."
+She handed him a quarter, and the boy went off, gayly whistling.
+
+She closed the heavy door softly and sat down on a chair. She recognized
+Louis's handwriting on the wrapper, and her heart fluttered ominously.
+She tore off the damp covering, and the first thing she encountered was
+another wrapper on which was written in large characters:--
+
+DEAR RUTH,--Do not be alarmed; everything is all right. I had to leave
+town on the overland at 6 P.M. Read the letter first, then the telegram;
+they will explain.
+
+LOUIS
+
+The kindly feeling that had prompted this warning was appreciated; one
+fear was stilled. She drew out the letter; she saw in perplexity that it
+was from her father. She hurriedly opened it and read:
+
+NEW YORK, Jan. 21, 188--.
+
+DEAR LOUIS,--I am writing this from my bed, where I have been confined
+for the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a daily
+postal. Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious to
+start home again. I really cannot rest here, and have made arrangements
+to leave to-morrow. Have taken every precaution against catching cold,
+and apart from feeling a trifle weak and annoyed by a cough, am all
+right. Shall come home directly. Say nothing of this to Esther or Ruth;
+shall apprise them by telegram of my home-coming. Had almost completed
+the business, and can leave the rest to Hamilton.
+
+My love to you all.
+
+Your loving Uncle,
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+
+Under this Louis had pencilled,
+
+Received this this morning at 10.30.
+
+Ruth closed her eyes as she unfolded the telegram; then with every nerve
+quivering she read the yellow missive:--
+
+RENO, Jan. 27, 188--.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD, San Francisco, Cal.:
+
+Have been delayed by my cough. Feeling too weak to travel alone. Come if
+you can.
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+Her limbs shook as she sat; her teeth chattered; for one minute she
+turned sick and faint. Under the telegram Arnold had written:--
+
+Am sure it is nothing. He has never been ill, and is more frightened
+than a more experienced person would be. There is no need to alarm your
+mother unnecessarily, so say nothing till you hear from me. Shall wire
+you as soon as I arrive, which will be to-morrow night.
+
+LOUIS.
+
+How could she refrain from telling her mother? She felt suddenly weak
+and powerless. O God, good God, her heart cried, only make him well!
+
+The sound of the library door closing made her spring to her feet; her
+mother stood regarding her.
+
+"What is it, Ruth?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing," she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to be
+calm,--"nothing at all. Louis has just sent me word that he had to leave
+town this evening, and says not to wait dinner for him."
+
+"That is very strange," mused her mother, moving slowly toward her and
+holding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into her
+pocket.
+
+"It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, do
+you?" she asked, assuming a desperate gayety. "There is nothing strange
+about it; he often leaves like this."
+
+"Not in such weather and not after---- There won't be a man in the house
+to-night. I wish your father were home; he would not like it if he
+knew." She shivered slightly as they went into the dining-room.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIII
+
+The next day passed like a nightmare. To add to the misery of her
+secret, her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any
+communication from her husband. Had the weather been fair, Ruth would
+have insisted on her going out with her; but to the rain of the day
+before was added a heavy windstorm that made any unnecessary expedition
+from home absurd.
+
+Mrs. Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down. She
+was sure that the next delivery would bring something. Was it not time
+for the second delivery? Would not Ruth please watch for the postman?
+By half-past one she took up her station at the window only to see the
+jaunty little rubber-encased man go indifferently by. At half-past four
+this scene was repeated, and then she decided to act.
+
+"Ring up the telegraph-office, Ruth; I am going to send a despatch."
+
+"Why, Mamma, probably the mail is delayed; it always is in winter.
+Besides, you will only frighten Father."
+
+"Nonsense; two days is a long delay without the excuse of a blockade. Go
+to the telephone, please."
+
+"The telephone was broken yesterday, you know."
+
+"I had forgotten. Well, one of the girls must go; I can't stand it any
+longer."
+
+"You can't send any of the girls in such weather; both the maids have
+terrible colds, and Mary would not go if you asked her. Listen! It is
+frightful. I promise to go in the morning if we don't get a letter,
+but we probably shall. Let us play checkers for a while." With a forced
+stoicism she essayed to distract her mother's thoughts, but with poor
+success. The wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately after
+a show of dining, Mrs. Levice went to bed. At Ruth's suggestion she took
+some headache medicine.
+
+"It will make me sleep, perhaps; and that will be better than worrying
+awake and unable to do anything."
+
+The opiate soon had its effect; and with a sigh of relief Ruth heard
+her mother's regular breathing. It was now her turn to suffer openly the
+fox-wounds. Louis had said she would hear to-night; but at what time?
+It was now eight o'clock, and the bell might ring at any moment. Mrs.
+Levice slept; and Ruth sat dry-eyed and alert, feeling her heart rise to
+her throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled. It was
+one of the wildest nights San Francisco ever experienced; trees groaned,
+gates slammed, and a perfect war of the elements was abroad. The wailing
+wind about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of some one
+begging for shelter. The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine.
+Still her mother slept. Ruth from her chair could see that her cheeks
+were unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried; but any
+degree of oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacing
+tidings. Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrapped
+them in the fleecy shawl that enveloped her. The action brought to her
+mind the way her father used to tuck her little hands under the coverlet
+when a child, after they had clung around his neck in a long good-night,
+and how no sooner were they there than out they would pop for "just one
+squeeze more, Father;" how long the good-nights were with this play! She
+had never called him "papa" like other children, but he had always liked
+it best so. She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweet
+little chimer rang out ten bells; she began to grow heart-sick with her
+thoughts; her limbs ached with stiffness, and she began a gentle walk
+up and down the room. Would it keep up all night? There! surely somebody
+was crunching up the gravel-walk. With one look at her sleeping mother,
+she quickly left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. With a
+palpitating heart she leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm,
+after all? The next instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as
+startling in the dead of the night as some supernatural summons. Before
+Ruth could hurry down, Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out of
+her room and rushed to the door. In a trice she was back again with the
+telegram and had put it into Ruth's hands.
+
+"Fifteen cents' charges," she said.
+
+"Pay it," returned Ruth.
+
+As the maid turned away, she tore open the envelope. Before she could
+open the form, a firm hand was placed upon hers.
+
+"Give me that," said her mother's voice.
+
+Ruth recoiled; Mrs. Levice stood before her unusually quiet in her white
+night-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth's fingers
+from the paper.
+
+"But, Mamma, it was addressed to me"
+
+"It was a mistake, then; I know it was meant for me. Let go instantly,
+or I shall tear the paper. Obey me, Ruth."
+
+Her voice sounded harsh as a man's. At the strange tone Ruth's fingers
+loosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room;
+Ruth followed her closely.
+
+Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read. No change came over
+her face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word to
+Ruth. This was the message:--
+
+RENO, Jan. 28, 188--
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE, San Francisco, Cal.
+
+Found your father very weak and feverish and coughing continually.
+Insists on getting home immediately. Says to inform Dr. Kemp, who will
+understand, and have him at the house on our arrival at 11.30 Thursday.
+No present danger.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD
+
+"Explain," commanded her mother, speaking in her overwrought condition
+as if to a stranger.
+
+"Get into bed first, Mamma, or you will take cold."
+
+Mrs. Levice suffered herself to be led there, and in a few words Ruth
+explained what she knew.
+
+"You knew that yesterday before the train left?"
+
+"Yes, Mamma."
+
+"And why didn't you tell me? I should have gone to him. Oh, why didn't
+you tell me?"
+
+"It would have been too late, dear."
+
+"No, it is too late now; do you hear? I shall never see him again,
+and it is all your fault--what do you know? Stop crying! will you stop
+crying, or--"
+
+"Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that are
+not true. It will not be too late; perhaps it is nothing but the cough.
+Louis says there is no danger."
+
+"Hush!" cried her mother, her whole figure trembling. "I know there is
+danger now, this minute. Oh, what can I do, what can I do?" With this
+cry all her strength seemed to give way; she sobbed and laughed with the
+hysteria of long ago; when Ruth strove to put her arms around her, she
+shook her off convulsively.
+
+"Don't touch me!" she breathed; "it is all your fault--he wants
+me--needs me--and, oh, look at me here! Why do you stand there like a
+ghost? Go away. No, come here--I want Dr. Kemp; now, at once, he said to
+have him; send for him, Ruth."
+
+"On Thursday morning," she managed to answer.
+
+"No, now--I must, must, must have him! You won't go? Then I shall; move
+aside."
+
+Ruth, summoning all her strength, strove to hold her in her arms, all to
+no avail.
+
+"Lie still," she said sternly; "I shall go for Dr. Kemp."
+
+"You can't; it is night and raining. Oh," she continued, half
+deliriously, "I know I am acting strangely, and he will calm me. Ruth, I
+want to be calm; don't you understand?"
+
+The two maids, frightened by the noise, stood in the doorway. Both had
+their heads covered with shawls; both were suffering with heavy colds.
+
+"Come in, girls. Stay here with my mother; I am going for the doctor."
+
+"Oh, Miss Ruth, ain't you afraid? It's a awful night, and black as
+pitch, and you all alone?" asked one, with wide, frightened eyes.
+
+"I am not afraid," said the girl, a great calmness in her voice as she
+spoke above her mother's sobbing; "stay and try to quiet her. I shall
+not be gone long."
+
+She flew into her room, drew on her overshoes and mackintosh, grasped a
+sealskin hood, which she tied securely under her chin, and went out into
+the howling, raging night.
+
+She had but a few blocks to go, but under ordinary circumstances the
+undertaking would have been disagreeable enough. The rain came down in
+heavy, wild torrents; the wind roared madly, wrapping her skirts around
+her limbs and making walking almost an impossibility; the darkness
+was impenetrable save for the sickly, quavering light shed by the few
+street-lamps, as far apart as angel visitants. Lowering her head and
+keeping her figure as erect as possible, she struggled bravely on.
+She met scarcely any one, and those she did meet occasioned her little
+uneasiness in the flood of unusual emotions that overwhelmed her soul.
+At any other time the thought of her destination would have blotted out
+every other perception; now this was but one of many shuddering visions.
+Trouble was making her hard; life could offer her little that would find
+her unequal to the test. Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark,
+imposing mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havocking
+elements. The rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced it
+unflinchingly as a small part of her trials. Without a tremor she ran
+up Dr. Kemp's steps. It was only when she stood with her finger on the
+bell-button that she realized whom she was about to encounter. Then for
+the first time she gave one long sob of self-recollection, and pushed
+the button.
+
+Burke almost immediately opened the door. Ruth had no intention of
+entering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home.
+
+"Who's there?" asked Burke, peering out into the darkness. "It's a divil
+of a night for any one but--"
+
+"Is Dr. Kemp in?" The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he opened
+the door wide.
+
+"Come in, mum," he said apologetically; "come in out of the night."
+
+"No. Is the doctor in?"
+
+"I don't know," he grumbled, "and I can't stand here with the door
+open."
+
+"Close it, then, but see if he is in, please."
+
+"I'll lave it open, and ye can come in or stay out according if ye are
+dry-humored or wet-soled;" and he shuffled off. The door was open! Her
+father had assured her of this once long ago. Inside were warmth and
+light; outside, in the shadow, were cold and darkness. Here she stood.
+Would the man never return? Ah, here he came hurrying along; she drew
+nearer the door; within a half-foot she stood still with locked jaw and
+swimming senses.
+
+"My good woman," said the grave, kindly voice which calmed while it
+unnerved her, "come in and speak to me here. Am I wanted anywhere? Come
+in, please; the door must be closed."
+
+With almost superhuman will she drew herself together and came closer.
+Seeing the dark, moving figure, he opened the door wide, and she stepped
+in; then as it closed she faced him, turning up her white, haggard face
+to his.
+
+"You!"
+
+He recoiled as if stunned, but quickly recovered himself.
+
+"What trouble has brought you to me?" he cried.
+
+"My mother," she replied in a low, stifled voice, adding almost
+instantly in a distant and formal tone, "can you come at once? She is
+suffering with hysteria and calls you incessantly."
+
+He drew himself up and looked at her with a cold, grand air. This girl
+had been the only woman who had signally affected his life; yet if her
+only recognition of it was this cold manner, he could command the same.
+
+"I will come," he replied, looking unbendingly, with steely gray eyes,
+into her white passionless face, framed in its dark hood.
+
+She bowed her head--further words were impossible--and turned to the
+door.
+
+He watched her tugging in blind stupefaction at the strange bolt, but
+did not move to her assistance. Her head was bent low over the intricate
+thing; but it was useless,--it would not move, and she suddenly raised
+her eyes beseechingly to him; with a great revulsion of feeling he saw
+that they were swimming in tears. His own lips trembled, and his heart
+gave a wild leap. Then one of those unaccountable moods that sometimes
+masters the best swayed him strongly.
+
+She was alone with him there; he could keep her if he wished. One look
+at her lovely, beloved face, and his higher manhood asserted itself. He
+unlatched the door, and still holding it closed, said in a deferential
+tone,--
+
+"Will you not wait till I ring for my carriage?"
+
+"I would rather go at once."
+
+Nothing was left but for him to comply with her wishes; and as she
+walked out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized a
+vial from his office, and hurried after her. At this juncture the storm
+was frightful. Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectually
+to move on. Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gusts
+carried his breath away. In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, who
+was making small progress.
+
+"Will you take my arm?" he asked quietly. "It will help you."
+
+She drew back in alarm.
+
+"There is no necessity," he indistinctly heard in the roar of the gale.
+
+He kept near enough to her, however, to see her. All along this block of
+Van Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees;
+they tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind. A violent gust
+almost took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly for
+Dr. Kemp to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back. At the same
+moment, one of the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash upon
+them. By a great effort he had turned and, holding her before him,
+received the greater blow upon his back.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he asked, bending his head so near her face that his
+short wet beard brushed her cheek.
+
+"No," she said, wresting herself from him; "I thank you--but you have
+hurt yourself."
+
+"You are mistaken," he said abruptly. "Take my arm, please."
+
+He did not wait for her yea or nay; but drawing her arm through his,
+he strode on in silence, holding it closely pinioned against his heart.
+When they reached the house, they were both white and breathless. Nora
+opened the door for them.
+
+"Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!" she cried, wringing her hands as the
+doctor threw off his coat and hat; "all she does now is to stare at us
+with her teeth all chattering."
+
+The doctor sprang up three steps at a time, Ruth quickly following.
+
+The room was in a blaze of light; Mrs. Levice sat up in bed, her
+large dark eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowy
+counterpane.
+
+Kemp looked like a pillar of strength as he came up to the bedside.
+
+"Well?" he said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.
+
+As he took her hand in his, she strove to speak; but the sobbing result
+was painful.
+
+"None of that!" he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders. "If
+you try, you can stop this. Now see, I am holding you. Look at me, and
+you will understand you must quiet down."
+
+He used his well-known power of magnetism. Gradually the quivering
+shoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and he
+gently laid her head upon the pillow.
+
+"Don't go away!" she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move from
+her.
+
+"No, indeed," he replied in a bright, soothing voice; "see, I am going
+to give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in a
+short time. Now then, open your mouth."
+
+"But, Doctor, I wish to speak to you."
+
+"After you have taken this and rested awhile."
+
+"And you won't go away?" she persisted.
+
+"I shall stay right here." She obediently swallowed the dose; and as he
+drew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her face
+relaxed.
+
+"It is so strengthening to have you here," she murmured.
+
+"It will be more strengthening for you to close your eyes."
+
+Ruth, who still stood in her wet clothes, lowered the lights.
+
+"You had better change your clothes immediately," said Kemp, in a low
+tone from his chair.
+
+She did not look at him, but at his voice she left the room.
+
+Quickly removing her wet garments, she slipped into a loose, dull
+red gown. As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenly
+remembered that his feet might be wet. She lit a candle, and going into
+Louis's room, appropriated a pair of slippers that stood in his closet.
+
+It was now past midnight; but no thought of sleep occurred to her till,
+entering her mother's room, she perceived in the semi-darkness that the
+doctor lay back with closed eyes. He was not asleep, however, for he
+opened his eyes at her light footfall. She looked very beautiful in her
+unconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness of
+her face.
+
+"Will you put them on?" she asked in a hushed voice, holding out the
+slippers.
+
+"You are very kind," he replied, looking with hungry eyes into her face.
+Seeing that he did not take them, she placed them on the carpet. The
+action recalled him to himself, and wishing to detain her, he said,--
+
+"Do they belong to a man as big as I?"
+
+"They are my cousin's."
+
+She had half turned to leave.
+
+"Ah," he returned, "and will he relish the idea of my standing in his
+shoes?"
+
+No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth's thoughts gave one miserable
+bound to Arnold.
+
+"He will be pleased to add to your comfort," spoke Mrs. Levice from the
+bed, thus saving Ruth an answer.
+
+"I do not need them," said the doctor, turning to her swiftly; "and,
+Mrs. Levice, if you do not go to sleep, I shall leave."
+
+"I want Ruth to stay in the room," she murmured petulantly.
+
+"Very well, Mamma," said Ruth, wearily, seating herself in a low,
+soft-cushioned chair in a remote corner. She knew how to sit perfectly
+still. It was a peculiar situation,--the mother, who had been the means
+of drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and he
+and she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulf
+between them, sat there without a word.
+
+Ruth's temples throbbed painfully; she felt weak and tired; toward
+morning she sank into a heavy sleep. Kemp did not sleep; he kept his
+face turned from her, trying to quiet his thoughts with the dull lullaby
+of the rain. But he knew when she slept; his gaze wandered searchingly
+around the room till it fell upon a slumber-robe thrown across a divan.
+He arose softly and picked it up; his light step made no sound in the
+soft carpet. As he came up to Ruth, he saw with an inward groan the
+change upon her sleeping face. Great, dark shadows lay about her eyes
+not caused by the curling lashes; her mouth drooped pathetically at the
+corners; her temples, from which her soft hair was rolled, showed the
+blue veins; he would have given much to touch her hair with his hand,
+but he laid the cover over her shoulders without touching her, and
+tucked it lightly about her knees and feet. Then he went back to his
+chair. It was five o'clock before either mother or daughter opened her
+eyes; they started up almost simultaneously. Ruth noticed the warm robe
+about her, and her eyes sped to the doctor. He, however, was speaking to
+Mrs. Levice, who in the dim light looked pale but calm.
+
+"I feel perfectly well," she was saying, "and shall get up immediately."
+
+"Where is the necessity?" he inquired. "Lie still to-day; it is not bad
+weather for staying in bed."
+
+"Did not Ruth tell you?"
+
+"Tell me?" he repeated in surprise.
+
+"Of the cause of this attack?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I must. Briefly, my husband has been in New York for the past
+five weeks; he suffered there with acute pneumonia for a week, told us
+nothing, but hurried home as soon as possible,--too soon, I suppose. Day
+before yesterday my nephew received a letter stating these facts, and,
+later, a telegram asking him to come to Reno, where he was delayed,
+feeling too ill to go farther alone. The first I heard of this was last
+night, when Ruth received this telegram from Louis." She handed it to
+him.
+
+As Kemp read, an unmistakable gravity settled on his face. As he was
+folding the paper thoughtfully, Mrs. Levice addressed him again in her
+unfamiliar, calm voice,--
+
+"Will you please explain what he means by your understanding?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose it is expedient for me to tell you at once," he said
+slowly, reseating himself and pausing as if trying to recall something.
+
+"Last year," he began, "probably as early as February, your husband came
+to me complaining of a cough that annoyed him nights and mornings;
+he further told me that when he felt it coming, he went to another
+apartment so as not to disturb you. I examined him, and found he was
+suffering with the first stages of asthma, and that one of his lungs
+was slightly diseased already. I treated him and gave him directions for
+living carefully. You knew nothing of this?"
+
+"Nothing," she answered hoarsely.
+
+"Well," he went on gently, "there was no cause for worry; if checked in
+time, a man may live to second childhood with asthma, and the loss of a
+small portion of a lung is not necessarily fatal. He knew this, and was
+mending slowly; I examined him several times and found no increase in
+the loss of tissue, while he told me the cough was not so troublesome."
+
+"But for some weeks before he left," said Mrs. Levice, "he coughed every
+morning and night. When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed me
+out of the idea. How did you find him before he left?"
+
+"I have not seen Mr. Levice for some months," he replied gravely.
+
+Mrs. Levice eyed him questioningly, but he offered no explanation.
+
+"Then do you think," she continued, "that this asthma made the pneumonia
+more dangerous?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of her
+voice and aspect remained unbroken.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "for telling me so candidly. Then will you be
+here to-morrow morning?"
+
+"I shall manage to meet him at Oakland with a closed carriage."
+
+"May I go with you?"
+
+"Pardon me; but it will be best for you to receive him quietly at
+home. There must be nothing whatever to disturb him. Have all ready,
+especially yourself."
+
+"I understand," she said. "And now, Doctor, let me thank you for your
+kindness to me;" she held out both hands. "Will you let Ruth show you to
+a room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?"
+
+"I thank you; it is impossible," he replied, looking at his watch. "I
+shall hurry home now. Good-morning, Mrs. Levice. There may be small
+cause for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the more
+you can help him."
+
+He turned from her.
+
+"Ruth, will you see the doctor to the door?"
+
+She followed him down the broad staircase, as in former days, but with
+a difference. Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, and
+they had descended together, talking pleasantly. Now not a word was
+said till he had put on his heavy outer coat. As he laid his hand on the
+knob, Ruth spoke,--
+
+"Is there anything I can do for my father, do you think?"
+
+She started as he turned a tired, haggard face to hers.
+
+"I can think of nothing but to have his bed in readiness and complete
+quiet about the house."
+
+"Yes; and--and do you think there is any danger?"
+
+"No, no! at least, I hope not. I shall be able to tell better when I see
+him. Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the light
+of his tender eyes. He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed it
+quickly behind him.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXIV
+
+The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco this
+Thursday morning. After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a day
+in spring. Young girls tripped forth "in their figures," as the French
+have it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genial
+wooing of sunbeams.
+
+Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion. Neither Ruth nor her
+mother felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her position
+in her husband's room, Ruth wandered downstairs. The silence seemed
+vocal with her fears.
+
+"So I tell ye's two," remarked the cook as her young mistress passed
+from the kitchen, "that darter and father is more than kin, they is
+soul-kin, if ye know what that means; an' the boss's girl do love him
+more'n seven times seven children which such a man-angel should 'a'
+had." For the "boss" was to those who served him "little lower than the
+angels;" and their prayers the night before had held an eloquent appeal
+for his welfare.
+
+Ruth, with her face against the window, watched in sickening anxiety.
+She knew they were not to be expected for some time, but it was better
+to stand here than in the fear-haunted background.
+
+Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stood
+before the gate. She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned for
+one second blindly against the wall.
+
+"Tell my mother they have come," she gasped to the maid, who had entered
+the hall.
+
+Then she looked out. Two men were carrying one between them up the walk.
+As they came nearer, she saw how it was. That bundled-up figure was her
+father's; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father's; but as
+they carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, panting
+breaths came to her, were they her father's too? No need, Ruth, to
+rush forward and vainly implore some power to tear from yourself the
+respiration withheld from him. Air, air! So, man, so; one step more and
+then relief. Ah!
+
+She paused in agony at the foot of the stairs as the closing door shut
+out the dreadful sound. We never value our blessings till we have lost
+them; who thinks it a boon to be able to breathe without thinking of the
+action?
+
+He had not seen her; his eyes had been closed as if in exhaustion as
+they gently helped him along, and she had understood at once that the
+only thing to be thought of was, by some manner of means, to remove the
+choking obstacle from his lungs. Oh, to be able in her young strength
+to hold the weak, loved form in her arms and breathe into him her
+overflowing life-breath! She walked upstairs presently; he would be
+expecting her. As she reached the upper landing, Kemp came from the
+room, closing the door behind him. His bearing revealed a gravity she
+had never witnessed before. In his tightly buttoned morning-suit, with
+the small white tie at his throat, he might have been officiating at
+some solemn ceremonial. He stood still as Ruth confronted him at the
+head of the stairs, and met her lovely, miserable eyes with a look of
+sympathy. She essayed to speak, but succeeded only in gazing at him in
+speechless entreaty.
+
+"Yes, I know," he responded to her silent appeal; "you were shocked at
+what you heard: it was the asthma that has completely overpowered him.
+His illness has made him extremely weak."
+
+"And you think--"
+
+"We must wait till he has rested; the trip was severe for one in his
+condition."
+
+"Tell me the truth, please, with no reservations; is there danger?"
+
+Her eager, abrupt questions told clearly what she suffered.
+
+"He has never had any serious illness; if the asthma has not overleaped
+itself, we have much to hope for."
+
+The intended consolation conveyed a contrary admission which she
+immediately grasped.
+
+"That means--the worst," she said, her clasped fingers speaking the
+language of despair. "Oh, Doctor, you who know so much, can't you help
+him? Think, think of everything; there must be something! Only do your
+best, do your utmost; you will, won't you?"
+
+His deep, grave eyes answered her silently as he took both her little
+clasped hands in his one strong one, saying simply,--
+
+"Trust me, but only so far as lies within my human power. He is somewhat
+eased, and asks for you. Look at your mother: she is surpassing herself;
+if your love for him can achieve one half such a conquest, you will but
+be making good your inheritance. I shall be in again at one, and will
+send some medicines up at once." He ended in his usual businesslike
+tone, and walked hastily downstairs.
+
+There was perfect quiet in the room as Ruth entered. Propped high by
+many pillows, Jules Levice lay in his bed; his wife's arm was about him;
+his head rested on her bosom; with her one disengaged hand she smoothed
+his white hair. Never was the difference between them more marked than
+now, when her beautiful face shone above his, which had the touch of the
+destroyer already upon it; never was the love between them more marked
+than now, when he leaned in his weakness upon her who had never failed
+him in all their wedded years.
+
+His eyes were half closed as if in rest; but he heard her enter, and
+Mrs. Levice felt the tremor that thrilled him as Ruth approached.
+
+"My child."
+
+The softly whispered love-name of old made her tremble; she smiled
+through her tears, but when his feeble arms strove to draw her to him,
+she stooped, and laying them about her neck, placed her cheek upon his.
+For some minutes these three remained knit in a close embrace; love,
+strong and tender, spoke and answered in that silence.
+
+"It is good to be at home," he said, speaking with difficulty.
+
+"It was not home without you, dear," murmured his wife, laying her lips
+softly upon his forehead. Ruth, kneeling beside the bed, noticed how
+loosely the dark signet-ring he wore hung upon his slender finger.
+
+"You look ill, my Ruth," he said, after a pause. "Lay my head down,
+Esther love; you must be tired. Sit before me, dear, I want to see your
+two faces together."
+
+His gaunt eyes flitted from one to the other.
+
+"It is a fair picture to take with one," he whispered.
+
+"To keep with one," softly trembled his wife's voice; his eyes met hers
+in a commiserating smile.
+
+Suddenly he started up.
+
+"Ruth," he gasped, "will you go to Louis? He must be worn out."
+
+She left the room hurriedly. Her faint knock was not immediately
+answered, and she called softly; receiving no reply, she turned the
+knob, which yielded to her hand. Sunbeams danced merrily about the room
+of the young man, who sat in their light in a dejected attitude. He
+evidently had made no change in his toilet; and as Ruth stood
+unnoticed beside him, her eyes wandered over his gray, unshaven face,
+travel-stained and weary to a degree. She laid her hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"Louis," she called gently.
+
+He shook under her touch, but made no further sign that he knew of her
+presence.
+
+"You must be so tired, Louis," she continued sympathetically.
+
+It may have been the words, it may have been the tone, it may have been
+that she touched some hidden thought, for suddenly, without premonition,
+his breast heaved, and he sobbed heavily as only a man can sob.
+
+She started back in pain. That such emotion could so unstring Louis
+Arnold was a marvel. It did not last long; and as he rose from his chair
+he spoke in his accustomed, quiet tone.
+
+"Forgive my unmanliness," he said; "it was kind of you to come to me."
+
+"You look very ill, Louis; can't I bring you something to refresh you,
+or will you lie down?"
+
+"We shall see; is there anything you wish to ask me?
+
+"Nothing."
+
+After a pause he said,--
+
+"You must not be hopeless; he is in good hands, and everything that can
+be done will be done. Is he resting now?"
+
+"Yes; if to breathe like that is to rest. Oh, Louis, when I think how
+for months he has suffered alone, it almost drives me crazy."
+
+"Why think of it, then? Or, if you must, remember that in his surpassing
+unselfishness he saved you much anxiety; for you could not have helped
+him."
+
+"Not with our sympathy?"
+
+"Not him, Ruth; to know that you suffered for him was--would have been
+his crowning sorrow. Is there anything I can do now?"
+
+"No, only think of yourself for a moment; perhaps you can rest a little,
+for you need it, dear."
+
+A flame of color burned in his cheek at the unusual endearment.
+
+"I shall bring you a cup of tea presently," she said as she left him.
+
+The morning passed into afternoon. Silence hung upon the house. A card
+had been pinned under the door-bell; and the many friends, who in
+the short time since the sick man's arrival had heard of his illness,
+dropped in quietly and left as they came.
+
+Dr. Kemp came in after luncheon. Mr. Levice was sleeping,--in all truth,
+one could say easily, but the doctor counted much from the rest. He
+expected Dr. H----- for a consultation. This he had done as a voucher
+and a sort of comforting assurance that nothing would be left undone.
+Dr. H----- came in blandly; he went out gravely. There was little to be
+said.
+
+Kemp walked thoughtfully upstairs after his colleague had left, and went
+straight to Arnold's room. The freedom of the house was his; he seemed
+to have established himself here simply through his earnestness and
+devotion.
+
+"Mr. Arnold," he said to the Frenchman, who quickly rose from his desk,
+"I want you to prepare your aunt and your cousin for the worst. You
+know this; but if he should have a spell of coughing, the end might be
+sudden."
+
+A cold pallor overspread Louis's face at the confirmation of his secret
+fears.
+
+He bowed slightly and cleared his throat before answering.
+
+"There will be no necessity," he said; "my uncle intends doing so
+himself."
+
+"He must not hasten it by excitement," said Kemp, moving toward the
+door.
+
+"That is unavoidable," returned Arnold. "You must know he had an object
+in hurrying home."
+
+"I did not know; but I shall prevent any unnecessary effort to speak. If
+you can do this for him, will you not?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"And you know what it is in detail?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Then for his sake--"
+
+"And for the others, he must be allowed to speak."
+
+Kemp regarded him steadily, wondering wherein lay the impression of
+concealed power which emanated from him. He left the room without
+another word.
+
+"Dr. H----- must have gone to school with you," panted Levice, as Dr.
+Kemp entered; "even his eyes have been educated to express the same
+feeling; except for a little--"
+
+"There, there," quieted Kemp; "don't exhaust yourself. Miss Levice, that
+fan, please. A little higher? How's that?"
+
+"Do not go, Doctor," he said feebly; "I have something to say, to do,
+and you--I want you--give me something--I must say it now. Esther, where
+are you?"
+
+"Here, love."
+
+"Mr. Levice, you must not talk now," put in Kemp, authoritatively;
+"whatever you have to say will last till morning."
+
+"And I?"
+
+"And you. Now go to sleep."
+
+Mrs. Levice followed him to the door.
+
+"You spoke just now of a nurse," she said through her pale lips; "I
+shall not want one: I alone can nurse him."
+
+"There is much required; I doubt if you are strong enough."
+
+"I am strong."
+
+He clasped her hand in assent; he could not deny her.
+
+"I shall come in and stay with you to-night," he said simply.
+
+"You. Why should you?"
+
+"Because I too love him."
+
+Her mouth trembled and the lines of her face quivered, but she drew her
+hand quickly over it.
+
+Kemp gave one sharp glance over to the bed; Ruth had laid her head
+beside her father's and held his hand. In such a house, in every Jewish
+house, one finds the best nurses in the family.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXV
+
+Shafts of pale sunlight darted into the room and rested on Mr. Levice's
+hair, covering it with a silver glory,--they trailed along the silken
+coverlet, but stopped there; one little beam strayed slowly, and almost
+as if with intention, toward Arnold, seated near the foot of the bed.
+Ruth, lovely in her pallor, sat near him; Mrs. Levice, on the other
+side of the bed, leaned back in her chair placed close to her husband's
+pillow; more remote, though inadvertently so, sat Dr. Kemp. It was by
+Mr. Levice's desire that these four had assembled here.
+
+He was sitting up, supported by many pillows; his face was hollow and
+colorless; his hands lay listlessly upon the counterpane. No one touches
+him; bathed in sunlight, as he was, the others seemed in shadow. When he
+spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, but it was distinctly audible
+to the four intent listeners; only the clock seemed to accompany his
+staccato speech, running a race, as it were, with his failing strength.
+
+"It is a beautiful world," he said dreamily, "a very beautiful world;"
+the sunbeams kissed his pale hands as if thanking him; no one stirred,
+letting the old man take his time. Finally he realized that all were
+waiting for him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," he began, "I have something to say to you,--to you in
+particular, and to my daughter Ruth. My wife and nephew know in brief
+what I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful event
+that happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see the
+necessity, for my reverting to it at all."
+
+Every one's eyes rested upon him,--that is, all but Arnold's,
+which seemed holding some secret communion with the cupids on the
+ceiling,--and the look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth's face
+was unnoticed.
+
+"In all my long, diversified life," he went on, "I had never suffered as
+I did after she told me her decision,--for in all those years no one
+had ever been made to suffer through me; that is, so far as I knew.
+Unconsciously, or in anger, I may have hurt many, but never, as in
+this case, with knowledge aforethought,--when the blow fell upon my own
+child. You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave no
+thought to you. She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands held
+out, and with a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, 'Father, you are
+right; I could not be happy with this man.' At the moment I believed
+her, thinking she had adopted my views; but with all her bravery, her
+real feelings conquered her, and I saw. Not that she had spoken untruly,
+but she had implied the truth only in part, I knew my child loved me,
+and she meant honestly that my pain would rob her of perfect happiness
+with you,--my pain would form an eclipse strong enough to darken
+everything. Do you think this knowledge made me glad or proud? Do you
+know how love, that in the withholding justifies itself, suffers from
+the pain inflicted? But I said, 'After all, it is as I think; she
+will thank me for it some day.' I was not altogether selfish, please
+remember. Then, as I saw her silent wrestling, came distrust of myself;
+I remembered I was pitted against two, younger and no more fallible than
+myself. As soon as doubt of myself attacked me, I strove to look on
+the other side; I strove to rid myself of the old prejudices, the old
+superstitions, the old narrowness of faith; it was useless,--I was too
+old, and my prejudices had become part of me. It was in this state of
+perturbation that I had gone one day up to the top floor of the Palace
+Hotel. Thank you, Doctor."
+
+The latter had quietly risen and administered a stimulant. As he resumed
+his seat, Levice continued:
+
+"I was seated at a window overlooking Market Street. Below me surged a
+black mass of crowding, jostling, hurrying beings, so far removed they
+seemed like little dots, each as large and no larger than his fellows.
+Above them stretched the same blue arch of heaven, they breathed the
+same air, trod in each other's footsteps; and yet I knew they were all
+so different,--ignorance walked with enlightenment, vice with virtue,
+rich with poor, low with high,--but I felt, poised thus above them,
+that they were creatures of the same God. Go once thus, and you will
+understand the feeling. And so I judged these aliens. Which was greater;
+which was less? This one, who from birth and inheritance is able
+to stand the equal of any one, or this one, who through birth and
+inheritance blinks blindly at the good and beautiful? Character and
+circumstance are not altogether of our own making; they are, to a
+great degree, results of inherited tendencies over which we have no
+control,--accidents of birthplace, in the choosing of which we had no
+voice. The high in the world do not shine altogether by their own light,
+not do the lowly grovel altogether in their own debasement,--I felt the
+excuse for humanity. I was overwhelmed with one feeling,--only God
+can weigh such circumstantial evidence; we, in our little knowledge of
+results, pronounce sentence, but final judgment is reserved for a higher
+court, that sees the cross-purposes in which we are blindly caught.
+So with everything. Below me prayed Christian and Jew, Mohammedan and
+Brahmin, idolater and agnostic. Why was one man different in this way
+from his fellows? Because he was born so, because his parents were so,
+because he was bred so, because it seemed natural and convenient to
+remain so,--custom and environment had made his religion. Because Jesus
+Christ dared to attack their existing customs and beliefs, the Jews,
+then powerful, first reviled, then feared, then slew him; because the
+Jews could not honestly say, 'I believe this man to be a God,' they were
+hurled from their eminence and dragged, living, for centuries in the
+dust. And yet why? Because God withheld and still withholds from this
+little band the power of believing in Christ as his son. Christians call
+this a wilful weakness; Jews call it strength. After all, who is to
+be praised or blamed for it? God. Then instead of beating the Jew, and
+instead of sneering at the Christian, let each pity the other; because
+one, I know not which, is weak, and because the other, I know not which,
+is strong. I left the building; I came upon the street. I felt like
+saluting every one as my brother. A little ragged child touched me,
+and as I laid my hand upon her curly head, the thrill of humanity shot
+through me.
+
+"It was not until I went to New York that the feelings I then
+experienced took on a definite shape. There, removed from my old haunts,
+I wandered alone when I could. Then I thought of you, my friend, of
+you, my child, and beside you I was pitiful,--pitiful, because in my
+narrowness I had thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishing
+restriction. I resolved to be practical; I have been accused of being
+a dreamer. I grasped your two images before me and drew parallels.
+Socially each was as high as the other. Mentally the woman was as strong
+in her sphere as the man was in his. Physically both were perfect types
+of pure, healthy blood. Morally both were irreproachable. Religiously
+each held a broad love for God and man. I stood convicted; I was in
+the position of a blind fool who, with a beautiful picture before him,
+fastens his critical, condemning gaze upon a rusting nail in the rusting
+wall behind,--a nail even now loosened, and which in another generation
+will be displaced. Yet what was I to do? Come back and tell you that I
+had been needlessly cruel? What would that avail? True, I might make you
+believe that I no longer thought marriage between you wrong; but that
+would not remove the fact that the world, which so easily makes us happy
+or otherwise, did not see as I saw. In this vortex I was stricken ill.
+All the while I wanted to hasten to you, to tell you how it was with
+me, and it seemed as if I never could get to you. 'Is this Nemesis,' I
+thought, 'or divine interposition?' So I struggled till Louis came. Then
+all was easier. I told him everything and said, 'Louis, what shall
+I do?' 'only this,' he answered simply: 'tell them that their happy
+marriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the world will be as
+nothing to these two who love each other.'"
+
+The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the
+coverlet and gave a leap upon Louis's shoulder like an angle's finger,
+but his gaze remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling. Ruth had
+covered her face with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with
+her eyes on Louis. Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting
+Levice's eyes.
+
+"I believe--and my wife believes," said Levice, heavily, as if the words
+were so many burdens, "that our child will be happy only as your wife,
+and that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this
+happiness. Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter.
+Ruth!"
+
+She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
+
+"Little one," he faltered, "I have been very cruel in my ignorance."
+
+"Do not think of this, Father," she whispered.
+
+"I must," he said, taking her hand in his. "Kemp, your hand, please."
+
+He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as
+Kemp's large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his
+head, kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
+
+"There is one thing more," he said. "At the utmost I have but a few days
+to live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my
+Ruth, as I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may be
+permitted sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a good
+girl, and now I am going to ask you to do one thing more--you also,
+Doctor. Will you be married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless
+your new life? Will you let me see this? And listen,--will you let the
+world know that you were married with my sanction, and did not have to
+wait till the old man was dead? Will you do this for me, my dear ones?"
+
+"Will you, Ruth?" asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
+
+Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father's eager eyes.
+
+"I will," she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room
+made it audible.
+
+Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
+
+"Always doing things for her ugly old father," he murmured; "this time
+giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love."
+
+"Oh, hush, my darling."
+
+"You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would
+like to have."
+
+"I think not," he decided, noting with a pang the pale, weary face of
+Levice; "we will have it all as quiet as possible. You must rest now,
+and leave everything to me. Would you prefer Dr. Stephens or a justice?"
+
+"Either. Dr. Stephens is a good man, whom I know, however; and one good
+man with the legal right is as good as another to marry you."
+
+There was little more said then. Kemp turned to Mrs. Levice and raised
+her hand to his lips. Arnold confronted him with a pale, smiling face;
+the two men wrung each other's hands, passing out together immediately
+after.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVI
+
+Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice. The
+latter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head lay
+back among the pillows as if the support were grateful. Still his
+eager eyes were keenly fastened upon the close-lipped mouth and broad,
+speaking brow of the minister who spoke so quietly and pleasantly. Kemp,
+looking pale and handsome, answered fitfully when appealed to, and kept
+an expectant eye upon the door. When Ruth entered, he went forward to
+meet her, drawing her arm through his. They had had no word together,
+no meeting of any kind but right here in the morning; and now, as she
+walked toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes was
+all for her father. Thought could hold no rival for him that day.
+
+"This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens," said Kemp, presenting them. A swift
+look of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman's beetle-brows as
+he bent over her hand. Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughter
+of little Jules Levice? Where did she get that pure Madonna face, that
+regal bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth? The explanation was
+sufficient when Mrs. Levice entered. They stood talking, not much, but
+in that wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking. They
+were waiting for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of pale
+heliotropes. He always looked well and in character when dressed for
+some social event; it was as if he were made for this style of dress,
+not the style for him. The delicate pink of his cheeks looked more like
+the damask skin of a young girl than ever; his eyes, however, behind
+their glasses, were veiled. As he handed Ruth the flowers, he said,--
+
+"I asked the doctor to allow me to give you these. Will you hold them
+with my love?"
+
+"They are both very dear to me," she replied, raising the flowers to her
+lips.
+
+Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was being
+performed. It was a striking picture, and one not likely to be
+forgotten. Levice's eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as he
+looked at his daughter,--for never had she looked as to-day in her
+simple white gown, her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream;
+standing next to Kemp, the well-mated forms were noticeable. Even
+Arnold, with his heart like a crushed ball of lead, acknowledged it
+in bitter resignation. For him the scene was one of those silent,
+purgatorial moments that are approached with senses steeled and thought
+held in a vice. To the others it passed, as if it had happened in a
+dream. Even when Kemp stooped and pressed his lips for the first time
+upon his wife's, the real meaning of what had taken place seemed far
+away to Ruth; the present held but one thing in prominence,--the pale
+face upon the pillow. She felt her mother's arms around her; she knew
+that Louis had raised her hand to his lips, that she had drawn his head
+down and kissed him, that Dr. Kemp was standing silently beside her,
+that the minister had spoken some gravely pleasant words; but all the
+while she wanted to tear herself away from it all and fold that eager,
+loving, dying face close to hers. She was allowed to do so finally; and
+when she was drawn into the outstretched arms, there was only the long
+silence of love.
+
+Kemp had left the room with Dr. Stephens, having a further favor to
+intrust to him. The short announcement of this marriage, which Dr.
+Stephens gave for insertion in the evening papers, created a world of
+talk.
+
+When Kemp re-entered, Levice called him to him, holding out his hand.
+The doctor grasped it in that firm clasp which was always a tonic.
+
+"Will you kneel?" asked Levice; Kemp knelt beside his wife, and the old
+father blessed them in the words that held a double solemnity now:--
+
+"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.
+
+"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace.'"
+
+"I think if you don't mind, dear, I shall close my eyes now," he said as
+they arose.
+
+Ruth moved about, closing the blinds.
+
+"Don't close out all the sun," said her father; "I like it,--it is an
+old friend. After all, I don't think I'll sleep; let me lie here and
+look at you all awhile. Louis, my boy, must you go?"
+
+"Oh, no," he replied, turning back from the door and gliding into a
+chair.
+
+"Thank you; and now don't think of me. Go on talking; it will be a
+foretaste of something better to lie here and listen. Esther, are you
+cold? I felt a shudder go through your hand, love. Ruth, give your
+mother a shawl; don't forget that sometimes some one should see that
+your mother is not cold. Just talk, will you?"
+
+So they talked,--that is, the men did. Their grave, deep voices and
+the heavily breathing of the invalid were the only sounds in the room.
+Finally, as the twilight stole in, it was quite still. Levice had
+dropped into a sort of stupor. Kemp arose then.
+
+"I shall be back presently," he said, addressing Mrs. Levice, who
+started perceptibly as he spoke. "I have some few directions to give to
+my man that I entirely forgot."
+
+"Could not we send some one? You must not stay away now."
+
+"I shall return immediately. Mr. Levice does not need me while he
+sleeps, and these instructions are important. Don't stir, Arnold; I know
+my way out."
+
+Nevertheless Arnold accompanied him to the door. Ruth gave little heed
+to their movements. Her agitated heart had grasped the fact that the
+lines upon her father's face had grown weaker and paler, his breathing
+shorter and more rasping; when she passed him and touched his hand, it
+seemed cold and lifeless.
+
+At nine the doctor came in again; the only appreciable difference in his
+going or coming was that no one rose or made any formal remarks. He
+went up to the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping head. Mrs. Levice
+moved her chair slightly as he seated himself on the edge of the bed
+and took Levice's hand. Ruth, watching him with wide, distended eyes,
+thought he would never drop it. Her senses, sharpened by suffering, read
+every change on his face. As he withdrew his hand, she gave one long,
+involuntary moan. He turned quickly to her.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, his grave eyes scanning her anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," she responded. It was the first word she had spoken to him
+since the afternoon ceremony. He turned back to Levice, lowering his ear
+to his chest. After a faint, almost imperceptible pause he arose.
+
+"I think you had all better lie down," he said softly. "I shall sit with
+him, and you all need rest."
+
+"I could not rest," said Mrs. Levice; "this chair is all I require."
+
+"If you would lie on the couch here," he urged, "you would find the
+position easier."
+
+"No, no! I could not."
+
+He looked at Ruth.
+
+"I shall go by and by," she answered.
+
+Arnold had long since gone out.
+
+Ruth's by and by stretched on interminably. Kemp took up the "Argonaut"
+that lay folded on the table. He did not read much, his eyes straying
+from the printed page before him to the "finis" writing itself slowly
+on Jules Levice's face, and thence to Ruth's pale profile; she was
+crying,--so quietly, though, that but for the visible tears an onlooker
+might not have known it; she herself did not,--her heart was silently
+overflowing.
+
+Toward morning Levice suddenly sprang up in bed and made as if to leap
+upon the floor. Kemp's quick, strong hand held him back.
+
+"Where are you going?" he asked. Mrs. Levice stood instantly beside him.
+
+"Oh," gasped Levice, his eyes falling upon her, "I wanted to get home;
+but it is all right now. Is the child in bed, Esther?"
+
+"Here she is; lie still, Jules; you know you are ill."
+
+"But not now. Ah, Kemp, I can get up now; I am quite well, you know."
+
+"Wait till morning," he resisted, humoring this inevitable idiosyncrasy.
+
+"But it is morning now; and I feel so light and well. Open the shutters,
+Ruth; see, Esther; a beautiful day."
+
+It was quite dark with the darkness that immediately precedes dawn;
+the windows were bespangled with the distillations of the night, which
+gleamed as the light fell on them.
+
+Mrs. Levice seated herself beside him.
+
+"It is very early, Jules," she said, smiling with hope, not knowing that
+this deceptive feeling was but the rose-flush of the sinking sun; "but
+if you feel well when day breaks you can get up, can't he Doctor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Levice lay back with closed eyes for some minutes. A quivering smile
+crossed his face and his eyes opened.
+
+"Were you singing that song just now, Ruth, my angel?"
+
+"What son, Father dear?"
+
+"That--'Adieu,--adieu--pays--amours'--we sang it--you know--when we left
+home together--my mother said--I was too small--too small--and--too--"
+
+Ruth looked around wildly for Kemp. He had left the room; she must go
+for him. As she came into the hall, she saw him and Louis hurriedly
+advancing up the corridor. Seeing her, they reached her side in a
+breath.
+
+"Go," she whispered through pale lips; "he is breathing with that--"
+
+Kemp laid his hand upon her shoulder.
+
+"Stay here a second; it will be quite peaceful."
+
+She looked at him in agony and walked blindly in after Louis.
+
+He was lying as they had left him, with Mrs. Levice's hand in his.
+
+"Keep tight hold, darling," the rattling voice was saying. "Don't take
+it off till--another takes it--it will not be hard then." Suddenly he
+saw Louis standing pale and straight at the foot of the bed.
+
+"My good boy," he faltered, "my good boy, God will bless--" His eyes
+closed again; paler and paler grew his face.
+
+"Father!" cried Ruth in agony.
+
+He looked toward her smiling.
+
+"The sweetest word," he murmured; "it was--my glory."
+
+Silence. A soul is passing; a simple, loving soul, giving no trouble in
+its passage; dropping the toils, expanding with infinity. Not utterly
+gone; immortality is assured us in the hearts that have touched ours.
+
+Silence. A shadow falls, and Jules Levice's work is done; and the first
+sunbeams crept about him, lay at his feet a moment, touched the quiet
+hands, fell on the head like a benediction, and rested there.
+
+
+
+Chapter XXVII
+
+"I thought you would be quiet at this hour," said Rose Delano, seating
+herself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening after
+the funeral. They looked so different even in the waning light,--Ruth
+in soft black, her white face shining like a lily above her sombre gown,
+Rose, like a bright firefly, perched on a cricket, her cheeks rosy, her
+eyes sparkling from walking against the sharp, cold wind.
+
+"We are always quiet now," she answered softly; "friends come and go,
+but we are very quiet. It does me good to see you, Rosebud."
+
+"Does it?" her sweet eyes smiled happily. "I was longing to drop in if
+only to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where to
+find you."
+
+"Why, where could I be but here?"
+
+"I thought possibly you had removed to your husband's home."
+
+For a second Ruth looked at her wonderingly; then the slow rich color
+mounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was one
+rosy cloud.
+
+"No; I have stayed right on."
+
+"I saw the doctor to-day," she chatted. "He looks pale; is he too busy?"
+
+"I do not know,--that is, I suppose so. How are the lessons, Rose?"
+
+"Everything is improving wonderfully; I am so happy, dear Mrs. Kemp, and
+what I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, I
+pray, fall on you two who have been so much to me. Miss Gwynne told me
+that to do good was your birthright. She said that the funeral, with its
+vast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippled
+of all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those who
+thought they knew him best. You should feel very proud with such sweet
+memories."
+
+"Yes," assented Ruth, her eyes quickly suffused with tears.
+
+They sat quietly thus for some time, till Rose, rising from her cricket,
+kissed her friend silently and departed.
+
+The waning light fell softly through the lace curtains, printing quaint
+arabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a rich
+yellow light. A carriage rolled up in front of the house. Dr. Kemp
+handed the reins to his man and alighted. He walked slowly up to the
+door. It was very still about the house in the evening twilight. He
+pushed his hat back on his head and looked up at the clear blue sky,
+as if the keen breeze were pleasant to his temples. Then with a quick
+motion, as though recalling his thoughts, he turned and rang the bell.
+The latchkey of the householder was not his.
+
+Ruth, sitting in the shadows, had scarcely heard the ring. She was
+absorbed in a new train of thought. Rose Delano was the first one who
+had clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married.
+She had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, looking
+at her grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would have
+called for congratulation. Rose, who knew only these two, naturally
+dwelt on their changed relations. Her husband! Her dormant love gave
+an exultant bound. Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; she
+sprang to her feet; the door opened, and he came in. He saw her standing
+faintly outlined in the dark.
+
+"Good-evening," he said, coming slowly toward her with extended hand;
+"have you been quite well to-day?" He felt her fingers tremble in
+his close clasp, and let them fall slowly. "Bob sent you these early
+violets. Shall I light the gas?"
+
+"If you will."
+
+He turned from her and rapidly filled the room with light.
+
+"Where is your mother?" he asked, turning toward her again. Her face was
+hidden in the violets.
+
+"Upstairs with Louis. They had something to arrange. Did you wish to see
+her?" To judge from Ruth's manner, Kemp might have been a visitor.
+
+"No," he replied. "If you will sit down, we can talk quietly till they
+come in."
+
+As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in another
+before her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face. The
+faraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad days
+had been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong will
+every impulse for any closer recognition. But this new look,--what did
+it mean? In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen to
+his own cheeks.
+
+"I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day," he observed; "shall I
+tell it to you?"
+
+"If it will not tire you."
+
+Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see the
+look of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him.
+
+"Oh, no," he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection. "I was
+coming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached the
+foot, when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with an
+eager light in his eyes. 'Aren't you Dr. Kemp?' he asked breathlessly,
+like one who had been running. I recollected him the instant he raised
+his hat from his nimbus of golden hair. 'Yes; and you are Will Tyrrell,'
+I answered promptly. 'Why, how did you remember?' he asked in surprise;
+'you saw me only once.' 'Never mind; I remember that night,' I answered.
+'How is that baby sister of yours?' 'Oh, she's all right,' he replied
+dismissing the subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers. 'I
+say, do you ever see Miss Levice nowadays?' I looked at him with a
+half-smile, not knowing whether to set him right or not, when he finally
+blurted out, 'She's the finest girl I ever met. Do you know her well,
+Doctor?' 'Well,' I answered, 'I know her slightly,--she is my wife.'"
+
+He had told the little incident brightly; but as he came to the end, his
+voice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyes
+sought hers. Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended.
+
+"I said you were my wife," he repeated softly, leaning forward, his
+hands grasping the chair-arms.
+
+"And what," asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice,--"what did
+Will say?"
+
+"Who cared?" he asked, quickly moving closer to her; "do you?" He caught
+her hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingers
+with hers.
+
+"Ruth," he asked below his breath, "have you forgotten entirely what we
+are to each other?"
+
+It was such a cruel lover's act to make her face him thus, her bosom
+panting, her face changing from white to red and from red to white.
+
+"Have you, sweet love?" he insisted.
+
+"No," she whispered, trying to turn her head from him.
+
+"No, who?"
+
+With an irrepressible movement she sprang up, pushing his hand from
+hers. He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fear
+overpowering him.
+
+"You mean," he said quietly, "that you no longer love me,--say it now
+and have it over."
+
+"Oh," she cried in exquisite pain, "why do you tantalize me so--can't
+you see that--"
+
+She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drew
+her to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers.
+
+A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down. Mrs. Levice entered
+first and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, saw
+too--nothing but Ruth standing encircled by her husband's arm; her
+lovely face smiled into his, which looked down at her with an expression
+that drove every drop of blood from Arnold's face. For a moment they
+were unseen; but when Ruth, who was the first to feel their presence,
+started from Kemp as if she had committed a crime, Arnold came forward
+entirely at his ease.
+
+Kemp met Mrs. Levice with outstretched hands and smiling eyes.
+
+"Good-evening, Mother," he said; "we had just been speaking of you."
+Mrs. Levice looked into his deep, tender eyes, and raising her arm, drew
+his head down and kissed him.
+
+Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it with
+shy, sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her.
+Sorrow had softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, she
+wooed everybody by her manner.
+
+"What were you saying of me?" she asked, keeping Ruth's hand in hers
+and looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his face
+radiant with gladness.
+
+"We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great house
+to our little one, till we find something better."
+
+Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his back
+half turned, looking over a book.
+
+"It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now," she said, her
+voice trembling slightly; "but I never could leave this house to
+strangers,--every room is too full of old associations, and sweet
+memories of him. Louis wants me to go down the coast with him soon,
+stopping for a month or so at Coronado. Go to your cottage meanwhile by
+yourselves; even I should be an intruder. There, Ruth, don't I know? And
+when we come back, we shall see. It is all settled, isn't it, Louis?"
+
+He turned around then.
+
+"Yes, I feel that I need a change of scene, and I should like to have
+her with me; you do not need her now."
+
+Ruth looked at his careworn face, and said with tender solicitude,--
+
+"You are right, Louis."
+
+And so it was decided.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
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+Project Gutenberg Etext:  Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
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+Other Things Being Equal
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+
+Other Things Being Equal
+
+by Emma Wolf
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I
+
+A humming-bird dipped through the air and lit upon the palm-tree just below
+the open window; the long drowsy call of a crowing cock came from afar off;
+the sun spun down in the subdued splendor of a hazy veil.  It was a
+dustless, hence an anomalous, summer's afternoon in San Francisco.
+
+Ruth Levice sat near the window, lazily rocking, her long lithe arms
+clasped about her knees, her face a dream of the day.  The seasons single
+out their favorite moods: a violet of spring-time woos one, a dusky June
+rose another; to-day the soft, languorous air had, unconsciously to her,
+charmed the girl's waking dream.
+
+So removed was she in spirit from her surroundings that she heard with an
+obvious start a knock at the door.  The knock was immediately followed by a
+smiling, plump young woman, sparkling of eye, rosy of cheek, and glistening
+with jewels and silk.
+
+"Here you are, Ruth," she exclaimed, kissing her heartily; whereupon she
+sank into a chair, and threw back her bonnet-strings with an air of relief.
+"I came up here at once when the maid said your mother was out.  Where is
+she?"
+
+"Out calling.  You look heated, Jennie; let me fan you."
+
+"Thanks.  How refreshing!  Sandal-wood, is it not?  Where is your father?"
+
+"He is writing in the library.  Do you wish to see him?"
+
+"Oh, no, no!  I must see you alone.  I am so glad Aunt Esther is out.  Why
+aren't you with her, Ruth?  You should not let your mother go off alone."
+
+The young girl laughed in merry surprise.
+
+"Why, Jennie, you forgot that Mamma has been used all her life to going out
+without me; it is only within the last few months that I have been her
+companion."
+
+"I know," replied her visitor, leaning back with a grim expression of
+disapproval, "and I think it the queerest arrangement I ever heard of.  The
+idea of a father having the sole care of a daughter up to her twenty-first
+birthday, and then delivering her, like a piece of joint property, over to
+her mother!  Oh, I know that according to their lights it did not seem
+absurd, but the very idea of it is contrary to nature.  Of course we all
+know that your father was peculiarly fitted to undertake your training, and
+in this way your mother could more easily indulge her love of society; but
+as it is, no wonder she is as jealous of your success in her realm as your
+father was in his; no wonder she overdoes things to make up for lost time.
+How do you like it, Ruth?"
+
+"What?" softly inquired her cousin, slowly waving the dainty fan, while a
+smile lighted up the gravity of her face at this onslaught.
+
+"Going out continually night after night."
+
+"Mamma likes it."
+
+"Cela va sans dire.  But, Ruth, --stop fanning a minute, please, --I want
+to know, candidly and seriously, would you mind giving it up?"
+
+"Candidly and seriously, I would do so to-day forever."
+
+"Ye-es; your father's daughter," said Mrs. Lewis, speaking more slowly, her
+bright eyes noting the perfect repose of the young girl's person; "and yet
+you are having some quiet little conquests, --the golden apples of your
+mother's Utopia.  But to come to the point, do you realize that your mother
+is very ill?"
+
+"Ill--my mother?"  The sudden look of consternation that scattered the soft
+tranquillity of her face must have fully repaid Mrs. Lewis if she was
+aiming at a sensation.
+
+"There, sit down.  Don't be alarmed; you know she is out and apparently
+well."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+I mean that Aunt Esther is nervous and hysterical.  The other day at our
+house she had such an attack of hysteria that I was obliged to call in a
+neighboring doctor.  She begged us not to mention it to either of you, and
+then insisted on attending a meeting of some sort.  However, I thought it
+over and decided to let you know, as I consider it serious.  I was afraid
+to alarm Uncle, so I thought of telling you."
+
+"Thank you, Jennie; I shall speak to Father about it."  The young girl's
+tone was quite unagitated; but two pink spots on her usually colorless
+cheeks betrayed her emotion.
+
+"That is right, dear.  I hope you will forgive me if I seem meddlesome, but
+Jo and I have noticed it for some time; and your father, by allowing this
+continual gayety, seems to have overlooked what we find so sadly apparent.
+Of course you have an engagement for to-night?"
+
+"Yes; we are going to a reception at the Merrills'."
+
+"Merrill?  Christians?" was the sharp reply.
+
+"The name speaks for itself."
+
+"What does possess your parents to mix so much with Christians?"
+
+"Fellow-feeling, I suppose.  We all dance and talk alike; and as we do not
+hold services at receptions, wherein lies the difference?"
+
+"There is a difference; and the Christians know it as well as we Jewish
+people.  Not only do they know it, but they show it in countless ways; and
+the difference, they think, is all to their credit.  For my part, I always
+feel as if they looked down on us, and I should like to prove to them how
+we differ on that point.  I have enough courage to let them know I consider
+myself as good as the best of them."
+
+"Is that why you wear diamonds and silk on the street, Jennie?" asked Ruth,
+her serious tones implying no impudence, but carrying a refined reproach.
+
+"Hardly.  I wear them because I have them and like them.  I see no harm in
+wearing what is becoming."
+
+"But don't you think they look aggressive on the street?  They attract
+attention; and one hates to be conspicuous.  I think they are only in place
+at a gathering of friends of one's own social standing, where they do not
+proclaim one's moneyed value."
+
+"Perhaps," replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier than before.
+"I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so.  But I scarcely
+think a little outward show of riches should make others feel they are
+better because they do not care to make a display.  Besides, to be less
+personal, I don't think any Christian would care to put himself out to meet
+a Jew of any description."
+
+"Don't you think it would depend a great deal both on Jew and Christian?  I
+always have been led to believe that every broad-minded man of whatever
+sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any other man.  And why
+should I not move on an equality with my Christian friends?  We have had
+the same schooling, speak the same language, read the same books, are
+surrounded by the same elements of home refinement.  Probably if they had
+not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased to associate with
+them.  I think the secret of it all is in the fact that it never occurred
+to us that the most fastidious could think we were anything but the most
+fastidious; and so we always met any one we desired to meet on a level
+footing.  I have a great many pleasant friends in the court of your
+Philistines."
+
+"Possibly.  But not having been brought up by your father, I think
+differently, and perhaps am different.  Their ways are not my ways; and
+what good can you expect from such association?"
+
+"Why, pleasant companionship.  What wouldst thou more?"
+
+"I?  Not even that.  But tell me, can't you dissuade Aunt Esther from going
+to-night?  Tell your father, and let him judge if you had better not."
+
+"I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much to Father;
+but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on our going
+to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, although Louis is
+going also.  But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, I shall tell him
+immediately, and--"
+
+A blithe voice at the door interrupted her, calling:
+
+"Open the door, Ruth; my hands are full."
+
+She rose hastily, and with a signal of silence to her loquacious cousin,
+opened the door for her mother.
+
+"Ah, Jennie, how are your, dear?  But let us inspect this box which Nora
+has just handed me, before we consider you;" and Mrs. Levice softly
+deposited a huge box upon Ruth's lace-enveloped bed.
+
+She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clear
+olive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears.  From the
+crown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the picture of
+exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her head like a
+queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more like Ruth's
+older sister than her mother.
+
+"Ruth's gown for this evening," she announced, deftly unfolding the
+wrappings.
+
+"Yellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise.
+
+"Corn-color," corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; "how do you think it will
+suit my girlie?"  She continued, shaking out the clinging silken crepe.
+
+"Charmingly; but I thought Ruth objected to anything but white."
+
+"So she does; she thinks white keeps her unnoticed among the rest.  This
+time, however, my will overrode hers.  Eh, Daughter?"
+
+The girl made a low courtesy.
+
+"I am only lady-in-waiting to your Majesty, O Queen," she laughed.  She had
+hardly glanced at the gown, being engaged in a silent scrutiny of her
+mother's face.
+
+"And how is my prime minister this afternoon?"  Mrs. Levice was drawing off
+her gloves, and Ruth's look of pained discovery passed unnoticed.
+
+"I have not been down since luncheon," she replied.
+
+"What!  Then go down at once and bring him up.  I must see that he gets out
+of his studiousness and is clothed in festive mind for this evening.  Come
+to my sitting-room, Jennie, and we can have a comfortable chat."
+
+Left to herself, Ruth hesitated before going to her father with her
+ill-boding tidings.  None knew better than she of the great, silent love
+that bound her parents.  As a quiet, observant child, she had often
+questioned wherein could be any sympathy between her father, almost old,
+studious, and reserved, and her beautiful, worldly young mother.  But as
+she matured, she became conscious that because of this apparent disparity
+it would have been still stranger had Mrs. Levice not loved him with a
+feeling verging nearer humble adoration than any lower passion.  It seemed
+almost a mockery for her to have to tell him he had been negligent, --not
+only a mockery, but a cruelty.  However, it had to be done, and she was the
+only one to do it.  Having come to this conclusion, she ran quickly
+downstairs, and softly, without knocking, opened the library door.
+
+She entered so quietly that Mr. Levice, reading by the window, did not
+glance from his book.  She stood a moment regarding the small
+thoughtful-faced, white-haired man.
+
+If one were to judge but by results, Jules Levice would be accounted a
+fortunate man.  Nearing the allotted threescore and ten, blessed with a
+loving, beloved wife and this one idolized ewe-lamb, surrounded by luxury,
+in good health, honored, and honorable, --trouble and travail seemed to
+have passed him by.  But this scene of human happiness was the result of
+intelligent and unremitting effort.  A high state of earthly beatitude has
+seldom been attained without great labor of mind or body by ourselves or
+those akin to us.  Jules Levice had been thrown on the world when a boy of
+twelve.  He resolved to become happy.  Many of us do likewise; but we
+overlook the fact that we are provided with feet, not wings, and cannot fly
+to the goal.  His dream of happiness was ambitious; it soared beyond
+contentment.  Not being a lily of the field, he knew that he must toil; any
+honest work was acceptable to him.  He was possessed of a fine mind; he
+cultivated it.  He had a keen observation; he became a student of his
+fellow-men; and being strong and untiring, he became rich.  This was but
+the nucleus of his ambitions, and it came to him late in life, but not too
+late for him to build round it his happy home, and to surround himself with
+the luxuries of leisure for attaining the pinnacle of wide information that
+he had always craved.  His was merely the prosperity of an intellectual,
+self-made man whose time for rest had come.
+
+Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
+her hand upon his.
+
+"You, darling?" He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
+accent.
+
+"Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?"
+
+"I am all ears;" he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.
+
+"Jennie was here just now."
+
+"And did not come in to see me?"
+
+"She had something to tell me."
+
+"A secret?"
+
+"Yes; something I must repeat to you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Father--Jennie thinks--she has reason to know that--dear, do you think
+Mother is perfectly well?"
+
+"No, my child; I know she is not."
+
+This quiet assurance was staggering.
+
+"And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a physician?"  A
+wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But--but--why?"  She became a little confused under his calm gaze, feeling
+on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.
+
+"Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past week.
+Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me."
+
+"Did she admit it?"
+
+"I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she wishes
+to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my discovery."
+
+"But isn't it wrong--unwise--to allow her to dissipate so much?"
+
+"I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible."
+
+"But to-night--forgive me, Father--you insist on our going to this
+reception."
+
+"Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason, --one not to be spoken
+of."
+
+"'Those who trust us educate us,'" she pleaded in wistful earnestness.
+
+"Then your education is complete.  Well, I knew your mother would resist
+seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to her
+desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor whom I
+would trust professionally with my wife's life, and on whom I can rely for
+the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their meeting.  What
+do you think of my way, dear?"
+
+For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.
+
+"May I know his name?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"His name is Kemp, --Dr. Herbert Kemp."
+
+"Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign.  Is he an old
+physician?"
+
+"I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty.  Not old
+certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill.  Personally he is
+a man of great dignity, inspiring confidence in every one."
+
+"Where did you meet him?"
+
+"In the hospitals," said her father quickly.  "But I will introduce him to
+you to-night.  Don't lose your head when you talk to him."
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+"Because he is a magnificent fellow; and I wish my daughter to hold her own
+before a man whom I admire so heartily."
+
+"Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice," she
+laughed.
+
+"Only a friendly hint," he answered, rising and putting his book in its
+place with the precision of a spinster.
+
+
+
+Chapter II
+
+"This is what I call a worldly paradise!" A girl with a face like dear Lady
+Disdain's sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voice chimed
+in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the soft strains of
+remote stringed instruments.
+
+"Is it a frivolous conceit?" she continued, laughing up to the man who
+stood beside her; "or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,
+radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also that such a
+place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?"
+
+"You forget; paradise was occupied by but two.  To my notion, nothing can
+be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full of guests."
+
+"And leaving out the guests?"
+
+"They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given the necessary
+contingencies."
+
+"A solitude of two who love?  Dr. Kemp, methinks you are a romantic."
+
+"You supplied the romance, Miss Gwynne.  My knowledge is of the hard,
+matter-of-fact sort."
+
+"Such as bones, I suppose.  Still you seem to be interested in the
+soft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet."
+
+"Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy's definition of a vacuum, --a
+large space with nothing in it.  Who is he?"
+
+"And I thought you not unknown!  He is the husband of a brilliant woman,
+Mrs. Ames, who has written a novel."
+
+"Clever?"
+
+"Decidedly so; it stands the test of being intoxicating and leaving a bad
+taste in the mouth, --like dry champagne."
+
+"Which is not made for women."
+
+"You mean school-girls.  There she is, --that wisp of a creature listening
+so eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed.  No wonder he
+interests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal history as
+a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as a social
+city directory."
+
+"You have studied him to advantage.  Are you sure you have not stolen a
+leaf from him?"
+
+"Dr. Kemp!" she exclaimed in pouting reproach, "do I appear as promiscuous
+as that?  You may call me a 'blue book,' but spare my snobbery the
+opprobrious epithet of 'directory.'  There goes the fascinating young Mrs.
+Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils.  Did you catch the fine oratory
+of the glance she threw us?  It said, 'Dorothy Gwynne, how dare you
+appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes?  Hand him over; pass him around.
+I want him; you are only boring him, though you seem to be amusing
+yourself."
+
+Kemp's grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt amused.
+
+"Aren't you improvising?" he asked.  A man need only offer an occasional
+bumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when his
+companion is a woman.
+
+"No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words.  Ah, here
+comes the Queen of Sheba."  She broke off with a pleased smile as Ruth
+Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.
+
+Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together they were
+doubly striking-looking.  Arnold, tall and slight, carrying his head high,
+fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarly
+distinguished-looking man.  The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasized
+slightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.
+Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inches
+shorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crown of his
+head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes.  Short women resented
+this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoe to speak to
+him.
+
+There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy, colorless
+face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was loosely rolled from her
+forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brown beneath delicately
+pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of her face.  But the languorous
+air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in the sweet sympathy of her
+glance, and in a certain alertness about the poise of her head.
+
+Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne's slight signal.
+
+"Where are you hastening?" she asked as they turned to greet her.  "One
+would think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you to the
+beauties scattered about."  She looked up pertly at Arnold, after giving
+one comprehensive glance over Ruth's toilet.
+
+"We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears," he answered, with
+pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile, "I did not
+overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other ground that it
+would have been cruelty to disturb you."  He spoke the language slowly, as
+a stranger upon foreign ground.
+
+"Oh, yes; I forgot.  Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Sheba
+and her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?"  She paused a moment as the
+parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke in rather
+breathlessly: "There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; do not let
+your republican ignorance forget her proper title.  Mr. Arnold, Mrs.
+Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?" and with a naive, superbly
+impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he could murmur an excuse.
+
+At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth's face.
+
+"Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go and see
+the orchids?"  The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusion and
+calmed her self-consciousness.  She raised her eyes to the dark, clever
+face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face.  From the
+broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of the gray eyes, to
+the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard, strength and
+gentleness spoke in every line.  His personality bore the stamp of a letter
+of credit.
+
+"Thank you," said she; "I think I shall sit here.  My cousin will probably
+be back soon."
+
+The doctor seated himself beside her.  Miss Gwynne's appellation was not
+inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her more conventional
+title.
+
+"This is a peaceful little corner," he said.  "Do you notice how removed it
+seems from the rest of the room?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantly questioning
+look with one of swift resolve.  "Dr. Kemp, I wish to tell you that my
+father has confided to me your joint secret."
+
+"Your father?" he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen of Sheba's
+progenitors was vague.
+
+"My father, yes," she repeated, smiling at his perplexity.  "Our name is
+not very common; I am Jules Levice's daughter."
+
+He was about to exclaim "NO!"  The kinship seemed ridiculous in the face of
+this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-faced Jew.
+What he did say was, --
+
+"Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine.  He is present, is he not?"
+
+"Yes.  Have you met my mother yet?"
+
+The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of this beautiful
+face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones held an uncommon
+charm.
+
+"No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before the evening
+is over.  So you know our little scheme.  Pardon the 'shop' which I have of
+a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seen any signs of
+illness in your mother?"
+
+"No; I have been very blind and selfish," she replied, somewhat bitterly,
+"for every one but me seems to have seen that something was wrong.  She has
+been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fear has been burning the
+candle at both ends for my light.  I wish I had known--probably it lay just
+within my hand to prevent this, instead of leading her on by my often
+expressed delight.  What I wish to ask you is that if you find anything
+serious, you will tell me, and allay my father's fears as much as possible.
+Please do this for me.  My father is not young; and I, I think, am
+trustworthy."
+
+She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking her
+companion full in the face.
+
+The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before he answered.
+Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence.
+
+"That is a pact," he said lightly; "but in all probability your father's
+fears are exaggerated."
+
+"'Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears,'" she quoted, softly
+flushing.  The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keeping his eyes
+intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that made his
+companion feel that they two were exclusively alone, --a sensation that was
+slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance.  By and by one understood
+that it was merely his air of interest that evoked the feeling, and so
+gradually got used to it as to one of his features.
+
+"That is so," he replied cheerily; "and--I see some one is about to play.
+Mrs. Merrill told me we should have some music."
+
+"It is Louis, I think; I know his touch."
+
+"Your cousin?  He plays?"
+
+Ruth looked at him in questioning wonder.  Truth to say, the doctor could
+not but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnold in the
+light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after the opening
+chords.  Rubenstein's Melody in F, played by a master-hand, is one long
+sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisite rapture.
+Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived in his soul was
+magnificently interpreted.  As he finished, there was not a murmur; and the
+next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle that instantly dispelled
+the former spell of grandeur.
+
+"An artist," said some one standing near.
+
+"Something more," murmured Kemp, rising as he saw Ruth do so.  He was about
+to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman, stepped up to
+them, and laying her hand upon Ruth's shoulder, said rather hurriedly, --
+
+"I am sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but Mrs. Levice--do not be alarmed,
+Ruth dear--has become somewhat hysterical, and we cannot calm her; will you
+come this way, please, and no one need know she is in the study."
+
+"My family is making itself prominent to-night," said Ruth, with a little
+catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through the
+conservatory and so across the hall.
+
+"I shall be here, Doctor, if you wish anything," said Mrs. Merrill,
+standing without as he and Ruth entered and immediately shut the door after
+them.
+
+"Stay there," he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quite
+still where he left her.  Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chair with
+her back to the door; her husband had drawn her head to his bosom.  There
+was no one else in the room, and for a second not a sound, till Mrs. Levice
+began to sob in a frightened manner.
+
+"It's nothing at all, Jules," she cried, trying to laugh and failing
+lamentably; "I--I'm only silly."
+
+"There, dear, don't talk."  Levice's face was white as he soothingly
+stroked her hair.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon her
+shoulders, motioned Levice aside.
+
+"Hush!  Not a word!"
+
+At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriek stopped
+halfway.
+
+"Be perfectly still," he continued, holding her firmly.  "Obey this
+instant," as she began to whimper; "not a sound must I hear."
+
+Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger's
+measures.  For a moment Mrs. Levice had started in affright to scream; but
+the deep, commanding tone, the powerful hands upon her shoulders, the
+impressive, unswerving eye that held hers, soon began to act almost
+hypnotically.  The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowly
+regained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained look in
+her eyes melted.  She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in response to
+his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of his
+countenance.
+
+"That is well," said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and still
+keeping his smiling eyes upon hers.  "Now just close your eyes for a
+minute; see, I have your hand, --so.  Go to sleep."
+
+There was not a sound in the room; Ruth stood where she had been placed,
+and Mr. Levice was behind the doctor, his face quite colorless, scarcely
+daring to breathe.  Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice told
+that she slept.
+
+Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, which hisses,
+but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed the lightest
+sleeper.
+
+"Put your hand, palm up, under hers.  I am going to withdraw my hand and
+retire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyes in
+a few moments.  Take her home as quietly as you can."
+
+"You will call to-morrow?" whispered Levice.
+
+He quietly assented.
+
+"Now be deft."  The transfer was quickly made, and nodding cheerfully, Dr.
+Kemp left the room.
+
+Ruth came forward.  Five minutes later Mrs. Levice opened her eyes.
+
+"Why, what has happened?" she asked languidly.
+
+"You fell asleep, Esther," replied her husband, gently.
+
+"Yes, I know; but why is Ruth in that gown?  Oh--ye-es!"  Consciousness was
+returning to her.  "And who was that handsome man who was here?"
+
+"A friend of Ruth."
+
+"He is very strong," she observed pensively.  She lay back in her chair for
+a few minutes as if dreaming.  Suddenly she started up.
+
+"What thoughtless people we are!  Let us go back to the drawing-room, or
+they will think something dreadful has happened."
+
+"No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back.  Stay here with Father
+while I get our wraps."
+
+Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room.  As she turned in
+the direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid upon
+her shoulder.
+
+"Oh, you, Louis!  I am going for our wraps."
+
+"Here they are.  How is my aunt?"
+
+"She is quite herself again.  Thanks for the wraps.  Will you call up the
+carriage, Louis?  We shall go immediately, but do not think of coming
+yourself."
+
+"Nonsense!  Tell your mother you have made your adieux to Mrs. Merrill,
+--she understands; the carriage is waiting."
+
+A few minutes later the Levices and Louis Arnold quietly stole away.  Mrs.
+Levice has had an attack of hysteria.  "Nothing at all," the world said,
+and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-points in a
+life-history are dismissed.  
+
+
+Chapter III
+
+The Levices' house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an air of
+reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed houses that
+faced it and hedged it in on both sides.  But the broad, sweeping lawns,
+the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open path to the
+veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, the long
+French windows open this summer's morning to sun and air, told an inviting
+tale.
+
+As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he looked
+around approvingly.
+
+"Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm," he mused as he rang the
+bell.
+
+It was immediately answered by the "grave little bookworm" in person.
+
+"I've been on the lookout for you for the past hour," he explained, leading
+him into the library and turning the key of the door as they entered.
+
+It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, but large
+and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs, a lounge or
+two, a woman's low rocker, an open piano, a few soft engravings on the
+walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books on stands, books
+everywhere.  Two long lace-draped windows let in a flood of searching
+sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in the remotest corner.
+It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess to keep her house as
+clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirt might be served upon
+her.
+
+"Will you not be seated?" asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latter
+stood drawing off his gloves.
+
+"Is your wife coming down here?"
+
+"No; she is in her room yet."
+
+"Then let us go up immediately.  I am not at leisure."
+
+"I know.  Still I wish to ask you to treat whatever ailments you may find
+as lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxiety or
+worry of any kind.  It will be necessary to tell only me, and every
+precaution will be taken."
+
+Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the brunt of
+the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing it secretly
+for some time.  Probably a very united family, loving and unselfish
+doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in the face of the
+old gentleman's dignified appeal.
+
+"Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of my visit?"
+He moved toward the door.  
+
+"Ruth--my daughter, you know--was about to tell her as I left the room."
+
+"Then we will go up directly."
+
+Levice preceded him up the broad staircase.  As they reached the landing,
+he turned to the doctor.
+
+"Pardon my care, but I must make sure that Ruth has told her.  Just step
+into the sitting-room a second," and the precautious husband went forward
+to his wife's bedroom, leaving the door open.
+
+Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the following words:
+--
+
+"And being interested in nervous diseases," the peculiarly low voice was
+saying, "he told Father he would call and see you, --out of professional
+curiosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be often taken as
+you were last night, should we?"
+
+"People with plenty of time on their hands," soliloquized the doctor,
+looking at his watch in the hallway.
+
+"What is his name, did you say?"
+
+"Dr. Herbert Kemp."
+
+"What!  Don't you know that Dr. Kemp is one of the first physicians in the
+city?  Every one knows he has no time for curiosity.  Nervous diseases are
+his specialty; and do you think he would come without--"
+
+"Being asked?" interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had remembered the
+flight of time, and walked in unannounced.
+
+"Keep your seat," he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excited
+blood springing to her cheeks.
+
+"You hardly need an introduction, Esther," said Levice.  "You remember Dr.
+Kemp from last night?"
+
+"Yes.  Don't go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn't you something to do
+downstairs?"
+
+Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her trouble from
+his tender watchfulness?  Great dark rings encircled her now feverishly
+bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drew aside, her
+mother's shaking fingers held tight to her hand.
+
+"I have nothing in the world to do," replied Levice, heartily; "I am going
+to sit right here and get interested."
+
+"You will have to submit to a friendly cross-examination, Mrs. Levice,"
+said the physician.
+
+He drew a chair up before her and took both her hands in his.  As Ruth
+relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantly authoritative
+gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, left the room.
+
+She descended a few steps to the windowed landing.  Here she intended
+joining the doctor on his way down.  Probably her father would follow him;
+but it was her intention to intercept any such plan.  A fog had arisen, and
+the struggling rosy beams of the sun glimmered opalescently through the
+density.  Ruth thought it would be clear by noon, when she and her mother
+could go for a stirring tramp.  She stood lost in thought till a firm
+footfall on the stairs aroused her.
+
+"I see Miss Levice here; don't come down," Kemp was saying. :What further
+directions I have must be given to a woman."
+
+"Stay with Mamma, Father," called Ruth, looking up at her hesitating
+father; "I shall see the doctor out;" and she quickly ran down the few
+remaining steps to Kemp, awaiting her at the foot.  She opened the door of
+the library, and closing it quickly behind them, turned to him expectantly.
+
+"Nothing to be alarmed at," he said, answering her mute inquiry.  He seated
+himself at the table, and drew from his vest-pocket pencil and blank.
+Without another glance at the girl, he wrote rapidly for some minutes; then
+quickly moving back his chair, he arose and handed her the two slips of
+paper.
+
+"The first is a tonic which you will have made up," he explained, picking
+up his gloves and hat and moving toward the door; "the other is a diet
+which you are to observe.  As I told her just now, she must remain in bed
+and see no one but her immediate family; you must see that she hears and
+reads nothing exciting.  That is all, I think."
+
+Indignation and alarm held riot in Ruth's face and arrested the doctor's
+departure.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she said, "you force me to remind you of a promise you made me
+last night.  Will you at least tell me what ails my mother that you use
+such strenuous measures?"
+
+A flash of recollection came to the doctor's eyes.
+
+"Why, this is an unpardonable breach upon my part, Miss Levice; but I will
+tell you all the trouble.  Your mother is suffering with a certain form of
+hysteria to a degree that would have prostrated her had we not come forward
+in time.  As it is, by prostrating her ourselves for awhile, say a month or
+so, she will regain her equilibrium.  You have heard of the food and rest
+cure?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, that is what she will undergo mildly.  Has she any duties that will
+suffer by her neglect or that will intrude upon her equanimity?"
+
+"No necessary ones but those of the house.  Under no circumstances can I
+conceive of her giving up their supervision."
+
+"Yet she must do so under the present state of affairs.  Remember, her mind
+must be kept unoccupied, but time must be made to pass pleasantly for her.
+This is not an easy task, Miss Levice; but, according to my promise, I have
+left you to undertake it."
+
+"Thank you," she responded quietly.
+
+Kemp looked at her with a sense of calm satisfaction.
+
+"Good-morning," he said, holding out his hand with a smile.
+
+As the door closed behind him, Ruth felt as if a burden had fallen from,
+instead of upon her.  For the last twenty-four hours her apprehensions had
+been excessive.  Now, though she knew positively that her mother's
+condition needed instant and constant care, which she must herself assume,
+all sense of responsibility fell from her.  The few quiet words of this
+strange physician had made her trust his strength as she would a rock.  She
+could not have explained why it was so; but as her father remarked once,
+she might have said, "I trust him implicitly, because, though a man of
+superiority, he implicitly trusts himself."
+
+As she re-entered her mother's room, her father regarded her intently.
+
+"So we are going to make a baby of you, Mamma," she cried playfully, coming
+forward and folding her arms around her mother, who lay on the lounge.
+
+"So he says; and what he says one cannot resist."  There was an apathetic
+ring to her mother's voice that surprised her.  Quickly the thought flashed
+through her that she was too weary to resist now that she was found out.
+
+"Then we won't try to," Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge of the
+lounge close to her mother.  From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted with
+remorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovely
+young daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothed her
+hair.
+
+"And if you are to be baby," she continued, smiling down, "I shall have to
+change places with you, and become mother.  You will see what a capital one
+I shall make.  Let's see, what are the duties?  First, baby must be kept
+clean and sweet, --I am an artist at that; secondly, Father and the rest of
+us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third--"
+
+"I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;" the gentle
+meaning of her father's words and glance caused Ruth to flush with
+pleasure.  When Levice said, "My child," the words were a caress.  "Just
+believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was 'Whatever you do,
+do thoroughly.'  She had to learn it through experience.  But as you trust
+me, trust my pupil."
+
+The soft smile that played upon her husband's face was reflected on Mrs.
+Levice's.
+
+"Oh, Ruth," she murmured tremulously, "it will be so hard for you."
+
+This was a virtual laying down of arms, and Ruth was satisfied.
+
+
+Chapter IV
+
+Louis Arnold, the only other member of the Levice family, had been forced
+to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice's attack at
+the Merrill reception.  He was, therefore, much surprised and shocked on
+his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and such rigorous
+measures for quiet in vogue.
+
+Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years.  He was a
+direct importation from France, which he had left just before attaining his
+majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductive to his
+imagination.  He had no sooner taken up his abode with his uncle than he
+was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreign vertu in
+the beautiful house.
+
+Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he was soon
+able to take almost the entire charge of Levice's affairs.  In a few years
+his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities.  From the time he
+arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt's escort, thus
+again relieving Levice, who preferred the quieter life.
+
+When Ruth began to go into society, his presence was almost a necessity, as
+Jewish etiquette, or rather Jewish espionage, forbids a young man
+unattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a single
+woman.  This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got into for
+keeping the young people apart, --making cowards of the young men, and
+depriving the young girls of a great deal of innocent pleasure.
+
+Arnold, however, was not an escort to be despised, as Ruth soon discovered.
+She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool, quizzical manner
+and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from the more girlish
+admiration of his distinguished person.  He and Ruth were great friends in
+a quiet, unspoken way.
+
+They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of his
+return.  Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting with
+her.  Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feel
+lonesome in the changed aspect of the house.
+
+Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward and forward
+in the rocker.
+
+"What I am surprised at," he was saying, "is that my aunt submits to this
+confining treatment;" he pronounced the last word "tritment," but he never
+stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding a certain
+piquancy to his speech.
+
+"You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows his
+directions blindly."
+
+"So I have heard from a great many--women."
+
+"And not men?"
+
+"I have never happened to hold a conversation with a man on the powers of
+Dr. Kemp.  Women delight in such things."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Why, giving in to the magnetic power of a strong man."
+
+"You err slightly, Louis; it is the power, not the giving in that we
+delight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness."
+
+"Will you allow me to differ with you?  Besides, apart from this great
+first cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has not
+rebelled."
+
+"I think I can answer that satisfactorily," replied his cousin, a
+mischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong white teeth;
+"she is in love."
+
+"Also?"
+
+"With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best.  Love is also
+something every one loves to give in to."
+
+"Every one who loves, you mean."
+
+"Every one loves something or some one."
+
+"Behold the exception, therefore."  He moved his head so as to get a better
+view of her.
+
+"I do not believe you."
+
+"That--is rude."  He kept his eyes meditatively fixed upon her.
+
+"Have you made a discovery in my face?" asked the girl presently, slightly
+moving from his gaze.
+
+"No," he replied calmly.  "My discovery was made some time ago; I am merely
+going over beautiful and pleasant ground."
+
+"Really?" she returned, flushing, "then please look away; you annoy me."
+
+"Why should I, since you know it is done in admiration?  You are a woman;
+do not pretend distaste for it."
+
+"I shall certainly go upstairs if you persist in talking so disagreeably."
+
+"Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to be
+disagreeable.  Always wear white; it becomes you.  Never forget that beauty
+needs appropriate surroundings.  Another thing, ma belle cousine, this
+little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocation spoils your
+whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain its healthy
+whiteness, while--"
+
+"You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis.  Do you know, if you
+often spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?"
+
+"That would indeed be unfortunate.  Never hate, Ruth; besides making
+enemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest and
+loveliest."
+
+"We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mocking
+tarantulas."
+
+"That is exaggerated, I think.  Besides, Heaven forbid our loving
+everybody!  Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you.  Love
+only wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose.  Cupid,
+you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had his portrait
+taken after he matured."
+
+"A character such as you would have would be unbearable."
+
+"But sensible and wise."
+
+"Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctively
+before the brain can speak."
+
+"Good--for some.  But in me behold the anomaly whose brain always
+reconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worth
+while to signal either 'love' or 'hate.'"
+
+He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano.  The unbecoming blush
+mounted slowly to Ruth's face and her eyes were bright as she watched him.
+When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.
+
+"No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independence of
+all emotion.  But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being a
+weakness, is often more clever than wisdom?  At any rate, what you are
+doing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more strongly than
+many."
+
+He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly, never,
+however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softly passionate
+minor strain.
+
+"What am I doing?" he asked.
+
+"Making love to the piano."
+
+"It does not hurt the piano, does it?"
+
+"No; but never say you do not feel when you play like that."
+
+"Is not that rather peremptory?  Who taught you to read characters?"
+
+"You."
+
+"I?  What a poor teacher I was to allow you to show such bungling work!
+Will you sing?"
+
+"No, I shall read; I have had quite enough of myself and of you for one
+night."
+
+"Alas, poor me!" he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany his words
+with his music; "I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotions are so
+troublesome.  You have but made your entrance into the coldest, most
+exciting arena, --the world.  Remember what I tell you, --all the strong
+motives, love and hate and jealousy, are mere flotsam and jetsam.  You are
+the only loser by their possession."
+
+The quiet closing of the door was his only answer.  Ruth had left the room.
+
+She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt of cynicism.
+If she could escape a cynic either in books or in society, she invariably
+did so.  Life was still beautiful for her; and one of her father's untaught
+lessons was that the cynic is a one-sided creature, having lost the eye
+that sees the compensation balancing all things.  As long as Louis attacked
+things, it did no harm, except to incite a friendly passage-at-arms; hence,
+most of such talk passed in the speaking.  Not so the disparaging
+insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp.
+
+During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chief to
+her mother she had seen him almost daily.  Time in a quiet sick-room passes
+monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-being and activity
+here assume proportions of importance; meal-times are looked forward to as
+a break in the day; the doctor's visit especially when it is the only one
+allowed, is an excitement.  Dr. Kemp's visits were short, but the two
+learned to look for his coming and the sound of his deep, cheery voice, as
+to their morning's tonic that would strengthen the whole day.  Naturally,
+as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levice in her idleness had analyzed and
+discussed aloud his qualities, both personal and professional, to her
+satisfaction.  She had small ground for basing her judgments, but the
+doctor formed a good part of her conversation.
+
+Ruth's knowledge of him was somewhat larger, --about the distance between
+Mrs. Levice's bedroom and the front door.  She had a homely little way of
+seeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her any new
+instructions.  Instructions are soon given and taken; and there was always
+time for a word or two of a different nature.
+
+In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificent
+pair of jetty blacks.
+
+"I wonder if they would despise a lump of sugar," she said one morning.
+
+"Why should they?" asked Kemp.
+
+"Oh, they seem to hold their heads so haughtily."
+
+"Still, they are human enough to know sweets when they see them," their
+owner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in her
+quaint, flowered morning-gown.  "Try them once, and you won't doubt it."
+
+She did try them; and as she turned a slightly flushed face to Kemp, who
+stood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, "Let me
+thank you and shake hands for my horses."
+
+One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather.  The doctor
+became neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercurially affected
+by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of a private
+signal-service reporter.
+
+"This is the time for a tramp," she said, as they stood on the veranda, and
+the summer air, laden with the perfume of heliotrope, stole around them.
+"That is where the laboring man has the advantage over you, Dr. Kemp."
+
+"Which, ten to one, he finds a disadvantage.  I must confess that in such
+weather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should be
+inhaling this air at a leisurely trot or stride as his habit may be.  You,
+Miss Levice, should get on your walking togs instantly."
+
+"Yes, but not conveniently.  My father and I never failed to take our
+morning constitutional together when all was well.  Father always gave me
+the dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as long
+strides as a boy.  Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry my pas
+was not ladylike."
+
+"You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidently
+remembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one's length of limb
+to the dainty footsteps of a woman."
+
+"Father has no trouble on that score," said Ruth, laughing.
+
+The doctor smiled in response, and raising his hat, said, "That is where he
+has the advantage over a tall man."
+
+Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in his manner
+but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally at variance with
+the peculiarities of the "lady's man" that Louis had insinuated he was
+accounted.  She resolved to scrutinize him more narrowly the next morning.
+
+Mrs. Levice's room was handsomely furnished and daintily appointed.  Even
+from her pillows she would have detected any lapse in its exquisite
+neatness, and one of Ruth's duties was to leave none to be detected.  The
+house was large; and with three servants the young girl had to do a great
+deal of supervising.  She took a natural pride in having things go as
+smoothly as under her mother's administration; and Mr. Levice said it was
+well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was a vast
+improvement.
+
+Ruth had given the last touches to her mother's dark hair, and was reading
+aloud the few unexciting items one finds in the morning's paper.  Mrs.
+Levice, propped almost to a sitting position by many downy pillows,
+polished her nails and half listened.  Her cheeks were no longer brightly
+flushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and her
+slight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great weariness had
+taken its place.  The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at the open
+window.
+
+Ruth's reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying a
+dainty basket of Duchesse roses.
+
+"For Madame," she said, handing it to Ruth, who came forward to take it.
+
+"Read the card yourself," she said, placing it in her mother's hand as the
+girl retired.  A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice's face; she buried
+her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope.
+
+"From Louis!" she exclaimed delightedly.  "Poor fellow! he was dreadfully
+upset when he came in.  He did not say much, but his look and hand-shake
+were enough as he bent to kiss me.  Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louis
+has a very loving disposition?"
+
+"Yes, dear?"
+
+"Yes.  One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him to
+be unusually sympathetic for a man.  I would sooner have him for a friend
+than many a woman; he has not many equals among the young men I know.
+Don't you agree with me, girlie?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I always liked Louis."
+
+"How coldly you say that!  And, by the way, it struck me as very queer last
+night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week.  Since when
+has this formal hand-shake come into use?"
+
+A slight flush crimsoned Ruth's cheek.
+
+"It is not my fault," she said, smiling; "I always kissed Louis even after
+a day's absence.  But some few months ago he inaugurated the new regime,
+and holds me at arm's length.  I can't ask him why, when he looks at me so
+matter-of-factly through his eyeglass, can I?"
+
+"No; certainly not."  A slight frown marred the complacency of Mrs.
+Levice's brow.  Such actions were not at all in accordance with her darling
+plan.  Arnold was much to her; but she wished him to be more.  This was a
+side-track upon which she had not wished her train to move.
+
+Her cogitations took a turn when she heard a quick, firm footfall in the
+hall.
+
+Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor.
+
+Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside.  He
+had not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravity
+replaced his usual leisurely manner.
+
+"Good-morning, Mrs. Levice," he said, taking her hand in his, and looking
+searchingly down at her.  "How are you feeling this morning?  Any starts or
+shakes of any sort?"
+
+"No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fed animal.
+Won't you sit down, Doctor?"
+
+"No; I have a consultation in a very short time.  Keep right on as you have
+been doing.  I do not think it will be necessary for me to call for several
+days now; probably not before Friday."
+
+"And to-day is Tuesday!  Am I to see no one till then?"
+
+"No one but those you have seen.  Pray do not complain, Mrs. Levice," he
+continued rather sternly.  "You are a very fortunate invalid; illness with
+you is cushioned in every conceivable corner.  I wish I could make you
+divide some of your blessings.  As I cannot, I wish you to appreciate them
+as they deserve.  Do not come down, Miss Levice," as she moved to follow
+him; "I am in a great hurry.  Good-morning."
+
+"How harassed he looked!  I wonder who is his patient!" observed Mrs.
+Levice, as Ruth quietly returned to her seat.  A sunbeam fell aslant the
+girl's preoccupied face.  The doctor's few words had given her food for
+thought.
+
+When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herself
+Louis's allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything to mock
+at, had he been present, in Kemp's abrupt visit of the morning.
+
+
+Chapter V
+
+Ruth always dressed well.  Indeed, any little jealousy her lovely presence
+might occasion was usually summed up in the terse innuendo, "Fine feathers
+make fine birds."
+
+To dress well is to dress appropriately to time, place, and season.  Having
+a full purse, she could humor every occasion with a change of gown; being
+possessed of good taste, her toilets never offended; desiring to look
+pleasing, as every woman should, she studied what was becoming; having a
+mother to whom a good toilet was one of the most pressing convenances, and
+who delighted in planning beautiful gowns for her beautiful daughter, there
+was nothing lacking to prevent Ruth from being well-dressed.
+
+On this summer's afternoon she was clad from head to foot in soft, pale
+gray.  Every movement of her young body, as she walked toward town,
+betokened health and elastic strength.  Her long, easy gait precluded any
+idea of hurry; she noticed everything she passed, from a handsome house to
+a dirty child.
+
+She was approaching that portion of Geary Street which the doctors have
+appropriated, and she carefully scanned each silvery sign-plate in search
+of Dr. Kemp's name.  It was the first time she had had occasion to go; and
+with a little feeling of novel curiosity she ran up the stairs leading to
+his office.
+
+It was just three, --the time stated as the limit of his office-hours; but
+when Ruth entered the handsome waiting-room, two or three patients were
+still awaiting their turns.  Seated in one of the easy-chairs, near the
+window, was an aristocratic-looking woman, whom Ruth recognized as a friend
+of one of her Christian friends, and with whom she had a speaking
+acquaintance.  Nodding pleasantly in response to the rather frigid bow, she
+walked to the centre of the room, and laying upon the table a bunch of
+roses that she carried, proceeded to select one of the magazines scattered
+about.  As she sat down, she found herself opposite a stout Irishwoman,
+coarsely but cleanly dressed, who with undisguised admiration took in every
+detail of Ruth's appearance.  She overlooked the evident simplicity of the
+woman's stare; but the wistful, yearning look of a little girl who reclined
+upon the lounge caused her to sit with her magazine unopened.  As soon as
+she perceived that it was her flowers that the child regarded so longingly,
+she bent forward, and holding out a few roses, said invitingly, --
+
+"Would you like these?"
+
+There is generally something startling in the sudden sound of a voice after
+a long silence between strangers; but the pretty cadence of Ruth's gentle
+voice bore no suggestion of abruptness.
+
+"Indeed, and she just do dote on 'em," answered the mother, in a loud tone,
+for the blushing child.
+
+"So do I," responded Ruth; and leaning farther forward, she put them in the
+little hand.
+
+But the child's hand did not close over them, and the large eyes turned
+piteously to her mother.
+
+"It's paralyzed she is," hurriedly explained the mother.  "Shall Mamma hold
+the beautiful roses for ye, darlint?"
+
+"Please," answered the childish treble.
+
+Ruth hesitated a second, and then rising and bending over her said, --
+
+"No; I know of a better way.  Wouldn't you like to have me fasten them in
+your belt?  There, now you can smell them all the time."
+
+"Roses is what she likes mostly," proceeded the mother, garrulously, "and
+she's for giving the doctor one every time she can when he comes.  Faith!
+it's about all he do get for his goodness, for what with--"
+
+The sudden opening of the folding-door interrupted her flow of talk.
+Seeing the doctor standing on the threshold as a signal for the next in
+waiting to come forward, the poor woman arose preparatory to helping her
+child into the consulting-room.
+
+"Let me help Mamie, Mrs. O'Brien," said he, coming toward her.  At the same
+moment the elegant-looking woman rose from her chair and swept toward him.
+
+"I believe it is my turn," she said, in response to his questioning
+salutation.
+
+"Certainly, if you came before Mrs. O'Brien.  If so, walk in," he answered,
+moving the portiere aside for the other to enter.
+
+"Sure, Doctor," broke in Mrs. O'Brien, anxiously, "we came in together."
+
+"Indeed!"  He looked from the florid, flustered face to the haughtily
+impassive woman beside her.
+
+"Well, then," said he, courteously, "I know Mrs. O'Brien is wanted at home
+by her little ones.  Mrs. Baker, you will not object, I am sure."
+
+It was now the elegant woman's turn to flush as Kemp took up the child.
+
+Ruth felt a leap of delight at the action.  It was a quiet lesson to be
+laid to heart; and she knew she could never see him in a better light than
+when he left the room holding the little charity patient in his arms.
+
+She also noticed with a tinge of amusement the look of added hauteur on the
+face of Mrs. Baker, as she returned to her seat at the window.
+
+"Haughtiness," mused Ruth, "is merely a cloak to selfishness, or the want
+of a proper spirit of humanity."
+
+The magazine article remained unread; she drifted into a sort of day-dream,
+and scarcely noticed when Mrs. Baker left the room.
+
+"Well, Miss Levice."
+
+She started up, slightly embarrassed, as the doctor's voice thus aroused
+her.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, coming forward and flushing slightly under
+his amused smile.  "It was so quiet here that I forgot where I was."
+
+He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her an exquisite
+fragrance of roses.
+
+"Will you be seated?" he asked, as he turned from closing the door.
+
+"No; it is not worth while."
+
+"What is the trouble, --you or your mother?"
+
+There had been nothing disconcerting in the Irish-woman's stare; but she
+felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable under the doctor's broad gaze.
+
+"Neither of us," she answered; "I broke the tonic bottle this morning, and
+as the number was destroyed, I should like to have you give me another
+prescription."
+
+"Directly.  Take this chair for a moment."
+
+She seated herself perforce, and he took the chair beside the desk.
+
+"How is she since yesterday?"  he asked, as he wrote, without looking up.
+
+"Quite as comfortable."
+
+He handed her the prescription presently, and she arose at once.  He
+stepped forward to open the outer door for her.
+
+"I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health," he remarked, with a
+hand on the knob.
+
+"No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it.  But for your method
+I am afraid there might have been."
+
+"Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind.  Your nursing was as
+potent a factor as my directions.  It is not Congress, but the people, who
+make the country, you know."
+
+"That is condescending, coming from Congress," she laughed gayly; "but I
+must disclaim the compliment, I am sorry to say; my nursing was only a
+name."
+
+"As you please.  Miss Levice, may I beg a rose of you?  No, not all.  Well,
+thank you, they will look wonderful in a certain room I am thinking of."
+
+"Yes?"  There was a note of inquiry in the little word in reply to Kemp's
+pointed remark spoken as with a sudden purpose.
+
+"Yes," he continued, leaning his back against the door and looking
+earnestly down at the tall girl; "the room of a lad without even the
+presence of a mother to make it pretty;" he paused as if noting the effect
+of his words.  "He is as lonely and uncomplaining as a tree would be in a
+desert; these roses will be quite a godsend to him."  He finished his
+sentence pleasantly at sight of the expression of sympathy in the lovely
+brown eyes.
+
+"Do you think he would care to see any one?"
+
+"Well," replied the doctor, slowly, "I think he would not mind seeing you."
+
+"Then will you tell me where he lives so that I can go there some day?"
+
+"Some day?  Why not to-day?  Would it be impossible to arrange it?"
+
+"Why, no," she faltered, looking at him in surprise.
+
+"Excuse my curiosity, please; but the boy is in such pressing need of some
+pleasurable emotion that as soon as I looked at you and your roses I
+thought, 'Now, that would not be a bad thing for Bob.'  You see, I was
+simply answering a question that has bothered me all day.  Then will you
+drive there with me now?"
+
+"Would not that be impossible with your driver?" she asked, searching
+unaccountably for an excuse.
+
+"I can easily dispense with him."
+
+"But won't my presence be annoying?" she persisted, hesitating oddly.
+
+"Not to me," he replied, turning quickly for his hat.  "Come, then, please,
+I must waste no more time in Bob's good cause."
+
+She followed him silently with a sensation of quiet excitement.
+
+Presently she found herself comfortably seated beside the doctor, who drove
+off at a rapid pace.
+
+"I think," said he, turning his horses westward, "I shall have to make a
+call out here on Jones Street before going to Bob.  You will not mind the
+delay, Miss Levice, I hope."
+
+"Oh, no.  This is 'my afternoon off,' you know.  Father is at home, and my
+mother will not miss me in the least.  I was just thinking--"
+
+She came to a sudden pause.  She had just remembered that she was about to
+become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent, interested look
+in Kemp's eye as he glanced at her was the disturbing element.
+
+"You were thinking what?" he prompted with his eye now to the horses'
+heads.
+
+"I am afraid you would not be edified if I continued," she answered
+hastily, biting her lip.  She had been about to remark that her father
+would miss her, nevertheless--but such personal platitudes are not always
+in good taste.  Seeing that she was disinclined to finish her sentence, he
+did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up his horses before a
+rather imposing house.
+
+"I shall not be gone a minute, I think," he said, as he sprang out and was
+about to attach the reins to the post.
+
+"Let me hold them, please," said Ruth, eagerly stretching forth a hand.
+
+He placed them in her hand with a smile, and turned in at the gateway.
+
+He had been in the house about five minutes when she saw him come out
+hastily.  His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gathered in an
+unmistakable frown.  At the moment when he slammed the gate behind him, a
+stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted him breathlessly.
+
+He waited stolidly with his foot on the carriage-step till she came up.
+
+"So sorry I had to go out!" she burst forth.  "How did you find my husband?
+What do you think of him?"
+
+"Madame," he replied shortly, "since you ask, I think your husband is
+little short of an idiot!"
+
+Ruth felt herself flush as she heard.
+
+The woman looked at him in consternation.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked.
+
+"Matter?  Mayonnaise is the matter.  If a man with a weak stomach like his
+cannot resist gorging himself with things he has been strictly prohibited
+from touching, he had better proclaim himself irresponsible and be done.
+It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting up such antics.
+Good-afternoon."
+
+And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reins
+from her without a word.
+
+She felt very meek and small beside the evidently exasperated physician.
+He seemed to forget her presence entirely, and she had too much tact to
+break the silence of an angry man.  In nine cases out of ten, the explosion
+is bound to take place; but woe to him who lights the powder!
+
+They were now driving northeast toward the quarter known as North Beach.
+The sweet, fresh breeze in the western heights toward Golden Gate is here
+charged with odors redolent of anything but the "shores of Araby the
+blest."
+
+Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings.
+
+"Some men," he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, "have no more
+conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages.  Here is
+one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save his soul;
+otherwise he is a strong, sensible man.  I can't account for it."
+
+"The force of habit, perhaps," suggested Ruth.
+
+"Probably.  Jewish appetite is known to dote on the fat of the land."
+
+That he said this with as little vituperation as if he had remarked on the
+weather Ruth knew; and she felt no inclination to resent the remark,
+although a vision of her cousin Jennie protesting did present itself.  Some
+Jewish people with diseased imaginations take every remark on the race as a
+personal calumny.
+
+"We always make the reservation that the fat be clean," she laughed.
+
+Kemp flashed around at her.
+
+"Miss Levice," he exclaimed contritely, "I completely forgot--I hope I was
+not rude."
+
+"Why, certainly not," she answered half merrily, half earnestly.  "Why
+should you be?"
+
+"As you say, why should I be?  Jewish individuals, of course, have their
+faults like the rest of humanity.  As a race, most of their characteristics
+redound to their honor, in my estimation."
+
+"Thank you," said the girl, quietly.  "I am very proud of many Jewish
+traits."
+
+"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, and
+countless other things."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in the musical
+and histrionic worlds.  Still, to be candid, in comparison with these, they
+do not seem to have made much headway in the other branches of art.  Can
+you explain it, Miss Levice?"
+
+He waited deferentially for a reply.
+
+"I was trying to think of a proper answer," she responded with earnest
+simplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powers are
+the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from times and
+circumstances stern and sad since the race began.  Painting and sculpture
+require other things." 
+
+"Which the Jew cannot obtain?"
+
+A soft glow overspread her face and mounted to her brow.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she answered, "we have begun.  I should like to quote to you
+the beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspired to
+answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoil that
+which in his mouth seemed eloquent."
+
+"You would not, Miss Levice.  Tell the story, please."
+
+They were on level ground, and the doctor could disengage his attention
+from the horses.  He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up her
+expressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble.
+
+"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon.  This is it briefly: A pilgrim was
+about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land.  In bidding a friend good-by,
+he said: 'In that far land to which I am journeying, is there not some
+relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I can bring to
+you?'  The friend mused awhile.  'Yes,' he made answer finally; 'there is a
+small thing, and one not difficult to obtain.  I beg of you to bring me a
+single rose from the plains of Sharon.'  The pilgrim promised, and
+departed.  On his return he presented himself before his friend.  'You have
+brought it?' he cried.  'Friend,' answered the pilgrim, sadly, 'I have
+brought your rose; but, alas! After all this weary travelling it is now but
+a poor, withered thing.'  'Give it me!' exclaimed the friend, eagerly.  The
+other did so.  True, it was lifeless and withered; not a vestige remained
+of its once fragrant glory.  But as the man held it tenderly in his hand,
+memory and love untold overcame him, and he wept in ecstasy.  And as his
+tears fell on the faded rose, lo! The petals sprang up, flushed into life;
+an exquisite perfume enveloped it, --it had revived in all its beauty.
+Sir, in the words of the rabbi, 'In the light of toleration and love, we
+too have revived, we too are looking up.'"
+
+As the girl paused, Kemp slightly, almost reverentially, raised his hat.
+
+"Miss Levice, that is exquisite," he said softly.
+
+They had reached the old, poorer section of the city, and the doctor
+stopped before a weather-beaten cottage.
+
+"This is where Bob receives," he said, holding out a hand to Ruth; "in all
+truth it cannot be called a home."
+
+Ruth had a peculiar, inexplicable feeling of mutual understanding with the
+doctor as she went in with him.  She hardly realized that she had been an
+impressionable witness of some of his dominant moods, and that she herself
+had been led on to an unrestrained display of feeling.
+
+
+Chapter VI
+
+They walked directly into a bare, dark hallway.  There was no one stirring,
+and Kemp softly opened the door of one of several rooms leading into the
+passage.  Here a broad band of yellow sunlight fell unrestrained athwart
+the waxen-like face of the sleeping boy.  The rest of the simple,
+poor-looking room was in shadow.  The doctor noiselessly closed the door
+behind them, and stepped to the bed, which was covered with a heavy
+horse-blanket.
+
+The boy on the bed even in sleep could not be accounted good-looking; there
+was a heaviness of feature, a plentitude of freckles, a shock of
+lack-lustre hair, that made poor Bob Bard anything but a thing of beauty.
+And yet, as Ruth looked at him, and saw Kemp's strong white hand placed
+gently on the low forehead, a great wave of tender pity took possession of
+her.  Sleep puts the strongest at the mercy of the watcher; there is a
+loneliness about it, a silent, expressive plea for protection, that appeals
+unconsciously.  Ruth would have liked to raise the rough, lonely head to
+her bosom.
+
+"It would be too bad to wake him now," said the doctor, in a low voice,
+coming back to her side; "he is sleeping restfully; and that is what he
+needs.  I am sorry our little plan is frustrated; but it would be senseless
+to wait, as there is no telling when he will waken."
+
+A shade of disappointment passed over the girl's face, which he noticed.
+
+"But," he continued, "you might leave your roses where he cannot fail to
+see them.  His conjectures on their mysterious appearance will rouse him
+sufficiently for one day."
+
+He watched her move lightly across the room, and fill a cup with water from
+an earthenware pitcher.  She looked about for a second as if hesitating
+where to place it, and then quickly drew up a high-backed wooden chair
+close to the bedside, and placed thereon a cup with roses, so that they
+looked straight into the face of the slumbering lad.
+
+"We will go now," Kemp said, and opened the door for Ruth to pass before
+him.  She followed him slowly, but on the threshold drew back, a thoughtful
+little pucker on her brow.
+
+"I think I shall wait anyway," she explained.  "I should like to talk with
+Bob a little."
+
+The doctor looked slightly annoyed.
+
+"You had better drive home with me," he objected.
+
+"Thank you," she replied, drawing farther back into the room ; "but the
+Jackson Street cars are very convenient."
+
+"Nevertheless, I should prefer to have you come with me," he insisted.
+
+"But I do not wish to," she repeated quietly; "besides, I have decided to
+stay."
+
+"That settles it, then," smiled Kemp; and shaking her hand, he went out
+alone.
+
+"When my lady will, she will; and when she won't, she won't," he mused,
+gathering up his reins.  But the terminal point to the thought was a smile.
+
+Ruth, thus left alone, seated herself on the one other chair near the foot
+of the bed.  Strange to say, though she gazed at Bob, her thoughts had
+flown out of the room.  She was dimly conscious that she was pleasantly
+excited.  Had she cared to look the cause boldly in the face, she would
+have known that Miss Ruth Levice's vanity had been highly fed by Dr. Kemp's
+unmistakable desire for her assistance.  He must at least have looked at
+her with friendly eyes; but here her modesty drew a line even for herself,
+and giving herself a mental shake, she saw that two lambent brown eyes were
+looking wonderingly at her from the face of the sick lad.
+
+"How do you feel now, Bob?" she asked, rising immediately and smiling down
+at him.
+
+The boy forgot to answer.
+
+"The doctor brought me here," she went on brightly; "but as you were
+asleep, he could not wait.  Are you feeling better, Bob?"
+
+The soft, star-like eyes did not wander in their gaze.
+
+"Why did you come?" he breathed finally.  His voice was surprisingly
+musical.
+
+"Why?" faltered Ruth.  "Oh, to bring you these roses.  Do you care for
+flowers, Bob?"  She lifted the mass of delicate buds toward him.  Two pale,
+transparent hands went out to meet them.  Tenderly as you sometimes see a
+mother press the cheek of her babe to her own, he drew them to his cheek.
+
+"Oh, my darlings, my darlings!" he murmured passionately, with his lips
+pressed to the fragrant petals.
+
+"Do you love them, then, so much?"
+
+"Lady," replied the boy, raising himself to a sitting posture, "there is
+nothing in the world to me like flowers."
+
+"I never thought boys cared so for flowers," remarked Ruth, in surprise.
+
+"I am a gardener," said he, simply, and again fell to caressing the roses.
+Sitting up, he looked fully seventeen or eighteen years old.
+
+"You must have missed them during your illness," observed Ruth.
+
+A long sigh answered her.  The boy rested his dreamy eyes upon her.  He was
+no longer ugly, with his thoughts illumining his face.
+
+"Marechal Niel," she heard him whisper, still with his eyes upon her, "all
+in soft, radiant robes like a gracious queen.  Lady, you fit well next my
+Homer rose."
+
+"What Homer rose?" asked Ruth, humoring the flower-poet's odd conceit.
+
+"My strong, brave Homer.  There is none like him for strength, with all his
+gentle perfume folded close to his heart.  I used to think these Duchesses
+would suit him best; but now, having seen you, I know they were too frail,
+--Marechal Niel."  It was impossible to resent openly the boy's musings;
+but with a quick insistence that stemmed the current of his thoughts, she
+said, --
+
+"Tell me where you suffer, Bob."
+
+"I do not suffer.  I am only weak; but he is nourishing me, and Mrs. Mills
+brings me what he orders."
+
+"And is there anything you would like to have of which you forgot to tell
+him?"
+
+"I never tell him anything I wish," replied the boy, proudly.  "He knows
+beforehand.  Did you never draw up close to a delicate flower, lay your
+cheek softly upon it, so, --close your eyes, so, --and listen to the tale
+it's telling?  Well, that is what my good friend does always."
+
+It was like listening to music to hear the slow, drawling words of the
+invalid.  Ruth's hand closed softly over his.
+
+"I have some pretty stories at home about flowers," she said; "would you
+like to read them?"
+
+"I can't read very well," answered Bob, in unabashed simplicity.
+
+Yet his spoken words were flawless.
+
+"Then I shall read them to you," she answered pleasantly, "to-morrow, Bob,
+say at about three."
+
+"You will come again?"  The heavy mouth quivered in eager surprise.
+
+"Why, yes; now that I know you, I must know you better.  May I come?"
+
+"Oh, lady!"
+
+Ruth went out enveloped in that look of gratitude.  It was the first
+directly personal expression of honest gratitude she had ever received; and
+as she walked down the hill, she longed to do something that would be
+really helpful to some one.  She had led, on the whole, so far, an
+egotistic life.  Being their only child, her parents expected much of her.
+During her school-life she had been a sort of human reservoir for all her
+father's ideas, whims, and hobbies.  True, he had made her take a wide
+interest in everything within the line of vision; hanging on his arm, as
+they wandered off daily in their peripatetic school, he had imbued her with
+all his manly nobility of soul.  But theorizing does not give much hold on
+a subject, the mind being taken up with its own clever elucidations.  For
+the past six months, after a year's travel in Europe, her mother had led
+her on in a whirl of what she called happiness.  Ruth had soon gauged the
+worth of this surface-life, and now that a lull had come, she realized that
+what she needed was some interest outside of herself, --an interest which
+the duties of a mere society girl do not allow to develop to a real good.
+
+A plan slowly formed itself in her mind, in which she became so engrossed
+that she unconsciously crossed the cable of the Jackson Street cars.  She
+did not turn till a hand was suddenly laid upon her arm.
+
+"What are you doing in this part of town?" broke in Louis Arnold's voice in
+evident anger.
+
+"Oh, Louis, how you startled me!  What is the matter with this part of
+town?"
+
+"You are on a very disreputable street.  Where are you going?"
+
+"Home."
+
+"Then be so kind as to turn back with me and take the cars."
+
+She glanced at him quickly, unused to his tone of command, and turned with
+him.
+
+"How do you happen to be here?" he asked shortly.
+
+"Dr. Kemp took me to see a poor patient of his."
+
+"Dr. Kemp?"  surprise raised his eyebrows half an inch.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Indeed!  Then," he continued in cool, biting words, "why didn't he carry
+his charity a little farther and take you home again?"
+
+"Because I did not choose to go with him," she returned, rearing her head
+and looking calmly at him as they walked along.
+
+"Bah!  What had your wishing or not wishing to do with it?  The man knew
+where he had taken you even if you did not know.  This quarter is occupied
+by nothing but negroes and foreign loafers.  It was decidedly ungentlemanly
+to leave you to return alone at this time of the evening."
+
+"Probably he gave me credit for being able to take care of myself in broad
+daylight."
+
+"Probably he never gave it a second's thought one way or the other.
+Hereafter you had better consult your natural protectors before starting
+out on Quixotic excursions with indifferent strangers."
+
+"Louis!"
+
+She actually stamped her little foot while walking.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Stop that, please.  You are not my keeper."
+
+Her cousin smiled quizzically.  They took their seats on the dummy, just as
+the sun, a golden ball, was about to glide behind Lone Mountain.  Late
+afternoon is a quiet time, and Ruth and Louis did not speak for a while.
+
+The girl was experiencing a whirl of conflicting emotions, --anger at
+Louis's interference, pleasure at his protecting care, annoyance at what he
+considered gross negligence on the doctor's part, and a sneaking pride, in
+defiance of his insinuations, over the thought that Kemp had trusted to her
+womanliness as a safeguard against any chance annoyance.  She also felt
+ashamed at having showed temper.
+
+"Louis," she ventured finally, rubbing her shoulder against his, as gentle
+animals conciliate their mates, "I am sorry I spoke so harshly; but it
+exasperates me to hear you cast slurs, as you have done before, upon Dr.
+Kemp in his absence."
+
+"Why should it, my dear, since it give you a chance to uphold him?"
+
+There is a way of saying "my dear" that is as mortifying as a slap in the
+face.
+
+The dark blood surged over the girl's cheeks.  She drew a long, hard
+breath, and then said in a low voice, --
+
+"I think we will not quarrel, Louis.  Will you get off at the next corner
+with me?  I have a prescription to be made up at the drug-store."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+If Arnold had showed anger, he was man enough not to be ashamed of it; this
+is one of man's many lordly rights.
+
+
+Chapter VII
+
+Mrs. Jules Levice was slowly gaining the high-road to recovery, and many of
+the restrictions for her cure had been removed.  As a consequence, and with
+an eye ever to Ruth's social duties, she urged her to leave her more and
+more to herself.
+
+As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and his neighborhood
+before her father's consideration.  A Jewish girl's life is an open page to
+her family.  Matters of small as well as of larger moment are freely
+discussed.  The result is that while it robs her of much of her Christian
+sister's spontaneity, which often is the latter's greatest charm, it also,
+through the sagacity of more experienced heads, guards her against many
+indiscretions.  This may be a relic of European training, but it enables
+parents to instil into the minds of their daughters principles which
+compare favorable with the American girl's native self-reliance.  It was as
+natural for Ruth to consult her father in this trivial matter, in view of
+Louis's disapproval, as it would be for her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to
+sally anywhere so long as she herself felt justified in so doing.
+
+Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering the matter,
+could find no objection, she went.  After that it was enough to tell her
+mother that she was going to see Bob.  Mrs. Levice had heard the doctor
+speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her way she was
+only too happy to forward.
+
+Bob's plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty under
+Ruth's deft fingers.  A pot of mignonette in the window, a small painting
+of exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses, were
+the food she brought for his poet soul.  But there were other substantial
+things.
+
+The day after she had replaced the coarse horse-blanket with a soft down
+quilt, the doctor made one of his bi-weekly visits to her mother.
+
+As he stood taking leave of Ruth on the veranda, he turned, with his foot
+on the last step, and looked up at her as if arrested by a sudden thought.
+
+"Miss Levice," said he, "I should like to give you a friendly scolding.
+May I?"
+
+"How can I prevent you?"
+
+"Well, if I were you I should not indulge Bob's love of luxury as you do.
+He positively refused to get up yesterday on account of the 'soft feel,' as
+he termed it, of that quilt.  Now, you know, he must get up; he is able to,
+and in a week I wish to start him in to work again.  Then he won't be able
+to afford such 'soft feels,' and he will rebel.  He has had enough coddling
+for his own good.  I really think it is mistaken kindness on your part,
+Miss Levice."
+
+The girl was leaning lightly against one of the supporting columns.  A
+playful smile parted her lips as she listened."
+
+Dr. Kemp," she replied, "may I give you a little friendly scolding?"
+
+"You have every right."  His tone was somewhat earnest, despite his smiling
+eyes.  A man of thirty-five does not resent a friendly scolding from a
+winsome young girl.
+
+"Well, don't you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob of any
+pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wish it too,
+and will not be able to have it?"
+
+"As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wish you to
+see it as practically as I do.  Put sentiment aside, and the only sensible
+thing to be done now is to prepare him for the hard, uncushioned facts of
+an active life."
+
+"But why must it be so hard for him?"
+
+"Why?  In the face of the inevitable, that is a time-wasting, useless
+question.  Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, the discovery
+will not alter the fact."
+
+"Yes, it will."
+
+"How?"
+
+"By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek a softer."
+
+"You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination, --circumstance."
+
+"And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove the
+strait-jacket?"
+
+Her lovely face looked very winning, filled with its kindly meaning.
+
+"Thank you," said he, raising his hat and forgetting to replace it as he
+spoke; "that is a gentle truth; some day we shall discuss this further.
+For the present, use your power in getting Bob upon his feet."
+
+"Yes."  She gave a hurried glance at the door behind her, and ran quickly
+down to the lowest step.  "Dr. Kemp," said she, a little breathlessly, "I
+have wished for some time to ask you to let me know when you have any cases
+that require assistance outside of a physician's, --such as my father or I
+might lend.  You must have a broad field for such opportunities.  Will you
+think of me then, please?"
+
+"I will," he replied, looking with amused pleasure at her flushed face.
+"Going in for philanthropy, Miss Levice?"
+
+"No; going out for it, thank you;" and she put her hand into his
+outstretched one.  She watched him step into his carriage; he turned and
+raised his hat again, --a trifling circumstance that Ruth dwelt upon with
+pleasure; a second glance always presupposes an interested first.
+
+He did not fail to keep his promise; and once on the lookout for "cases"
+herself, Ruth soon found enough irons in the fire to occupy her spare
+moments.
+
+Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society.
+
+"A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people will
+either consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely.  Don't be
+unreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy every
+function in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you.  When he
+asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Friday night, I
+heard you say you did not know.  Now why?"
+
+"Oh, that?"  I never gave it a second's thought.  I promised Father to go
+with him in the afternoon; I did not consider it worth an explanation."
+
+"But, you see, I did.  It looks very queer for Louis to be travelling
+around by himself; couldn't you go again in the evening with him?"
+
+"Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt.  If the pictures are good, a second
+visit will not be thrown away, --that is, if Louis is really anxious for my
+companionship.  But, 'I doubt it, I doubt it, I do.'"
+
+"What nonsense!" returned her mother, somewhat testily.  "Why shouldn't he
+be?  You are always amiable together, are you not?"
+
+"Well," she said, knitting her brows and pursing her lips drolly, "that,
+methinks, depends on the limits and requirements of amiability.  If
+disputation showeth a friendly spirit, then is my lord overfriendly; for it
+oft hath seemed of late to pleasure his mood to wax disputations, though,
+in sooth, lady fair, I have always maintained a wary and decorous
+demeanor."
+
+"I can imagine," laughed her mother, a little anxiously; "then you will
+go?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice's
+exertions bore some fruit.
+
+
+Chapter VIII
+
+There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with more enthusiastic
+theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco.  The play was one of
+the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughly enjoyed.  When a great
+star was heralded, he was in a feverish delight until it had come and gone.
+When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet little man fully earned the often
+indiscriminately applied title of "crazy Frenchman."  A Frenchman is never
+so much one as when confronted in a foreign land with a great French
+creation; every fibre in his body answers each charm with an appreciation
+worked to fever-heat by patriotic love; at such times the play of his
+emotions precludes any idea of reason to an onlooker.  Bernhardt was one of
+Levice's passions.  Booth was another, though he took him more composedly.
+The first time the latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was
+"Hamlet") the Levices--that is, Ruth and her father--went three times in
+succession to witness his matchless performance, and every succeeding
+characterization but strengthened their enthusiasm.
+
+Booth was coming again.  The announcement had been rapturously hailed by
+the Levices.
+
+"It will be impossible for us to go together, Father," Ruth remarked at the
+breakfast-table.  "Louis will have to take me on alternate nights, while
+you stay at home with Mamma; did you hear, Louis?"
+
+"You will hardly need to do that," answered Arnold, lowering his cup; "if
+you and your father prefer going together, I shall enjoy staying with your
+mother on those nights."
+
+"Thanks for the offer--and your evident delight in my company," laughed
+Ruth; "but there is one play at which you must submit to the infliction of
+my presence.  Don't you remember we always wished to see the 'Merchant of
+Venice' and judge for ourselves his interpretation of the character?  Well,
+I am determined that we shall see it together."
+
+"When does he play it?"
+
+"A week from Saturday night."
+
+"Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be out of town at the end of next
+week."
+
+"Oh, dear?  Honestly?  Can't you put it off?  I want so much to go."
+
+"Impossible.  Go with your father."
+
+"You know very well neither of us would go off and leave Mamma alone at
+night.  It is horrid of you to go.  I am sure you could manage differently
+if--"
+
+"Why, my child!"
+
+She was actually pouting; and her father's quiet tone of surprised
+reprimand just headed off two great tears that threatened to fall.
+
+"I know," she said, trying to smile, and showing an April face instead;
+"but I had just set my heart on going, and with Louis too."
+
+"That comes of being a spoilt only child," put in Arnold, suavely.  "You
+ought to know by this time that of the many plans we make with ourselves,
+nine out of ten come to nought.  Before you set your heart on a thing, be
+sure you will not have to give it up."
+
+Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophic remark
+with a curled lip.
+
+"There, save your tears for something more worthy," cut in Levice, briskly;
+"if you care so much about it, we or chance must arrange it as you wish."
+
+But chance in this instance was not propitious.  Wednesday came, and Arnold
+saw no way of accommodating her.  He left town after taking her to see the
+"Fool's Revenge" as a sort of substitution.
+
+"You seemed to be enjoying the poor Fool's troubles last night," observed
+Dr. Kemp, in the morning; they were still standing in Mrs. Levice's room.
+
+"I?  Not enjoying his troubles; I enjoyed Booth, though, --if you can call
+it enjoyment when your heart is ready to break for him.  Were you there?  I
+did not see you."
+
+"No, I don't suppose you did, or you would have been in the pitiable
+condition of the princess who had her head turned.  I sat directly back of
+your box, in the dress-circle.  Then you like Booth?"
+
+"Take care! That is a dangerous subject with my family," broke in Mrs.
+Levice.  "Ruth has actually exhausted every adjective in her admiration
+vocabulary.  The last extravaganza I heard from her on that theme was after
+she had seen him as Brutus; she wished herself Lucius, that in the tent
+scene she might kiss Booth's hand."
+
+"It sounds gushing enough for a school-girl now," laughed Ruth merrily,
+looking up at the doctor; "but at the time I meant it."
+
+"Have you seen him in all his impersonations?" he asked.
+
+"In everything but 'Shylock.'"
+
+"You will have a chance for that on Saturday night.  It will be a great
+farewell performance."
+
+"Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him."
+
+"Now, Doctor," cried Mrs. Levice, "will you please impress it on her that I
+am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear?  She wishes to go
+Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the ground that I
+shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town.  Is not that being
+unnecessarily solicitous?"
+
+"Without doubt.  But," he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, "in lieu of
+a better escort, how would I do, Miss Levice?"
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Will you come with me Saturday night to see 'Shylock'?"
+
+To be candid, Ruth was embarrassed.  The doctor had said neither "will you
+honor me" nor "will you please me," but he had both pleased and honored
+her.  She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother.  "Come now, Mrs.
+Levice," laughed Kemp, noting the action, "will you allow your little girl
+to go with me?  Do not detain me with a refusal; it will be impossible to
+accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, you know.
+Good-morning."
+
+Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both of
+mother and daughter.  The latter was naturally surprised at his unexpected
+invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another and quite
+different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself.  Mrs. Levice was
+in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the evening.
+
+"By all means, let her go," replied he; "why should you have had any
+misgivings about it?  I am sure I am glad she is going."
+
+"But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their girls
+to go out with strangers."
+
+"Is that part of our religion?"
+
+"No; but custom is in itself a religion.  People do talk so at every little
+innovation against convention."
+
+"What will they say?  Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
+Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the child.
+If she wishes to go, don't set an impossible bogy in the way of her
+enjoyment.  Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would if you
+said to the doctor, 'I can't let her go on account of people's tongues,'
+and that is the only honest excuse you can offer."  So in his manly,
+practical way he decided it.
+
+On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale suede
+glove.  Kemp had not yet come in.  She looked unusually well in her dull
+sage-green gown.  A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft dark
+hair.  The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed by the
+broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told that she
+was feeling a little shy.  Presently the bell rang, and Kemp came in, his
+open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath.  He came forward hastily.
+
+"I am a little late," he said, taking her hand, "but it was unavoidable.
+Ten minutes to eight," looking at his watch; "the horses must make good
+time."
+
+"It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?" asked Ruth, for want of
+something better to say as she turned for her wrap.
+
+"I did not feel it," he replied, intercepting her.  "But this furry thing
+will keep the cold off, if there is any," he continued, as he held it for
+her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her throat.  A
+strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so close her
+own.
+
+"How are your mother and father?"  He asked, holding the door open, while
+she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.
+
+"They are as usual," she answered.  "Father expects to see you after the
+play.  You will come in for a little supper, will you not?"
+
+"That sounds alluring," he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking, as
+she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that seemed
+to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.
+
+It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.
+
+
+Chapter IX
+
+Everybody remembers the sad old comedy, as differently interpreted in its
+graver sentiment as there are different interpreters.  Ruth had seen one
+who made of Shylock merely a fawning, mercenary, loveless, blood-thirsty
+wretch.  She had seen another who presented a man of quick wit, ready
+tongue, great dignity, greater vengeance, silent of love, wordy of hate.
+Booth, without throwing any romantic glamour on the Jew, showed him as God
+and man, but mostly man, had made him: an old Jew, grown bitter in the
+world's disfavor through fault of race; grown old in strife for the only
+worldly power vouchsafed him, --gold; grown old with but one human love to
+lighten his hard existence; a man who, at length, shorn of his two loves
+through the same medium that robbed him of his manly birthright, now turned
+fiend, endeavors with tooth and nail to wreak the smouldering vengeance of
+a lifetime upon the chance representative of an inexorable persecution.
+
+All through the performance Ruth sat a silent, attentive listener.  Kemp,
+with his ready laugh at Gratiano's sallies, would turn a quick look at her
+for sympathy; he was rather surprised at the grave, unsmiling face beside
+him.  When, however, the old Jew staggered alone and almost blindly from
+the triumphantly smiling court-room, a little pinch on his arm decidedly
+startled him.
+
+He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruth started.
+
+"Oh," she faltered, "I--I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were not
+Louis."
+
+"I do not mind in the least," he assured her easily.
+
+The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great things of
+life move slowly.
+
+As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, the latter
+thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whom turned an
+interested look at her stalwart escort.  Of this she was perfectly aware,
+but the same human interest with which Kemp's acquaintances regarded her
+passed by her unnoticed.
+
+A moment later they were in the fresh, open air.
+
+"How beautiful it is!" said Ruth, looking up at the stars.  "The wind has
+entirely died away."
+
+"'On such a night,'" quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, "a closed
+carriage seems out of season."
+
+"And reason," supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door rather
+slowly.  She glanced at him hesitatingly.
+
+"Would you--" she began.
+
+"Right!  I would!"  The door was banged to.
+
+"John," he said, looking up at his man in the box, "take this trap round to
+the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night."
+
+John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion's little hand through his
+arm.
+
+"Well," he said, as they turned the corner, "Were you satisfied with the
+great man to-night?"
+
+"Yes," she replied meditatively, "fully; there was no exaggeration, --it
+was all quite natural."
+
+"Except Jessica in boy's clothes."
+
+"Don't mention her, please; I detest her."
+
+"And yet she spoke quite prettily on the night."
+
+"I did not hear her."
+
+"Why, where were you while all the world was making merry on the stage?"
+
+"Not with them; I was with the weary, heart-broken old man who passed out
+when joy began."
+
+"Ah!  I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano's jesting.  Miss
+Levice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take too strong a
+hold on you.  It is not right.  I assure you for every tear there is a
+laugh, and you must learn to forget the former in the latter."
+
+"I am sorry," replied Ruth, quite sadly; "but I fear I cannot learn that,
+--tears are always stronger than laughter.  How could I listen to the
+others' nonsense when my heart was sobbing with that lonely old man?
+Forgive me, but I cannot forget him."
+
+They walked along silently for some time.  Instinctively, each felt the
+perfect accord with which they kept step.  Ruth's little ear was just about
+on a level with the doctor's chin.  He hardly felt the soft touch of her
+hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile of her cheek
+against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she was there was a
+pleasing one.
+
+"Did you consider the length of our walk when you fell in with my desire?"
+he asked presently.
+
+"I like a long walk in pleasant weather; I never tire of walking."
+
+"You have found the essentials of a good pedestrian, --health and
+strength."
+
+"Yes; if everybody were like me, all your skill would be thrown away, --I
+am never ill."
+
+"Apparently there is no reason why you should be, with common-sense to back
+your blessings.  If common-sense could be bought at the drug-store, I
+should be rid of a great many patients."
+
+"That reminds me of a snatch of conversation I once overheard between my
+mother and a doctor's wife.  I am reminded of it because the spirit of your
+meaning is diametrically opposed to her own.  After some talk my mother
+asked, 'And how is the doctor?'  'Oh,' replied the visitor, with a long
+sigh, 'he's well enough in body, but he's blue, terribly blue; everybody is
+so well, you know.'"
+
+"Her sentiment was more human than humane," laughed Kemp.  He was glad to
+see that she had roused herself from her sad musings; but a certain set
+purpose he had formed robbed him now of his former lightness of manner.
+
+He was about to broach a subject that required delicate handling; but an
+intuitive knowledge of the womanly character of the young girl aided him
+much.  It was not so much what he had seen her do as what he knew she was,
+that led him to begin his recital.
+
+"We have a good many blocks before us yet," he said, "and I am going to
+tell you a little story.  Why don't you take the full benefit of my arm?
+There," he proceeded, drawing her hand farther through his arm, "now you
+feel more like a big girl than like a bit of thistledown.  If I get
+tiresome, just call 'time,' will you?"
+
+"All right," she laughed.  She was beginning to meet halfway this
+matter-of-fact, unadorned, friendly manner of his; and when she did meet
+it, she felt a comfortable security in it.  From the beginning to the end
+of his short narrative he looked straight ahead.
+
+"How shall I begin?  Do you like fairy tales?  Well, this is the soul of
+one without the fictional wings.  Once upon a time, --I think that is the
+very best introduction extant, --a woman was left a widow with one little
+girl.  She lived in New Orleans, where the blow of her husband's death and
+the loss of her good fortune came almost simultaneously.  She must have had
+little moral courage, for as soon as she could, she left her home, not
+being able to bear the inevitable falling off of friends that follows loss
+of fortune.  She wandered over the intermediate States between here and
+Louisiana, stopping nowhere long, but endeavoring to keep together the
+bodies and souls of herself and child by teaching.  They kept this up for
+years until the mother succumbed.  They were on the way from Nevada to Los
+Angeles when she died.  The daughter, then not eighteen, went on to Los
+Angeles, where she buried her mother, and endeavored to continue teaching
+as she had been doing.  She was young, unsophisticated, sad, and in want in
+a strange town.  She applied for advice to a man highly honored and
+recommended by his fellow-citizens.  The man played the brute.  The girl
+fled--anywhere.  Had she been less brave, she would have fled from herself.
+She came to San Francisco and took a position as nurse-girl; children, she
+thought, could not play her false, and she might outlive it.  The hope was
+cruel.  She was living near my home, had seen my sign probably, and in the
+extremity of her distress came to me.  There is a good woman who keeps a
+lodging-house, and who delights in doing me favors.  I left the poor child
+in her hands, and she is now fully recovered.  As a physician I can do no
+more for her, and yet melancholy has almost made a wreck of her.  Nothing I
+say has any effect; all she answers is, 'It isn't worth while.'  I
+understand her perfectly, but I wished to infuse into her some of her old
+spirit of independence.  This morning I asked her if she intended to let
+herself drift on in this way.  I may have spoken a little more harshly than
+necessary, for my words broke down completely the wall of dogged silence
+she had built around herself.  'Oh, sir,' she cried, weeping like the child
+she is, 'what can I do?  Can I dare to take little children by the hand,
+stained as I am?  Can I go as an impostor where, if people knew, they would
+snatch their loved ones from me?  Oh, it would be too wretched!'  I tried
+to remonstrate with her, told her that the lily in the dust is no less a
+lily than is her spotless sister held high above contamination.  She looked
+at me miserably from her tear-stained face, and then said, 'Men may think
+so, but women don't; a stain with them is ignoble whether made by one's
+self or another.  No woman knowing my story would think me free from
+dishonor, and hold out her clean hands to me.'  'Plenty,' I contradicted.
+'Maybe,' she said humbly; 'but what would it mean?  The hand would be held
+out at arm's length by women safe in their position, who would not fail to
+show me how debased they think me.  I am young yet; can you show me a girl,
+like myself in years, but white as snow, kept safe from contamination, as
+you say, who, knowing my story, would hold out her hand to me and not feel
+herself besmirched by the contact?  Do not say you can, for I know you
+cannot.'  She was crying so violently that she would not listen to me.
+When I left her, I myself could think of none of my young friends to whom I
+could propound the question.  I know many sweet, kind girls, but I could
+count not one among them all who in such a case would be brave as she was
+womanly--until I thought of you."
+
+Complete silence followed his words.  He did not turn his glance from the
+street ahead of him.  He had made no appeal, would make none, in fact.  He
+had told the story with scarcely a reflection on its impropriety, that
+would have arrested another man from introducing such an element into his
+gentle fellowship with a girl like Ruth.  His lack of hesitancy was born of
+his manly view of the outcast's blamelessness, of her dire necessity for
+help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be as free from the
+artificiality of conventional surface modesty as was he, through the
+earnestness of the undertaking.
+
+There is something very sweet to a woman in being singled out by a man for
+some ennobling virtue.  Ruth felt this so strongly that she could almost
+hear her heart beat with the intoxicating knowledge.  No question had been
+asked, but she felt an answer was expected.  Yet had her life depended on
+it, the words could not have come at that moment.  Was she indeed what he
+esteemed her?  Unconsciously Dr. Kemp had, in thought, placed her on a
+pedestal.  Did she deserve the high place he had given her, or would she?
+
+With many women the question would have been, did she care for Dr. Kemp's
+good opinion?  Now, though Ruth was indeed put on her mettle, her quick
+sympathy had been instantly touched by the girl's miserable story.  Perhaps
+the doctor's own feelings had influenced her, but had the girl stood before
+her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with all her own gentle
+nobility of soul.
+
+As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth's house stood, Kemp said
+deliberately, --
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I thank you.  Where does she live?"
+
+Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughts
+within.  They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gate before
+he answered.  When he did, after they had passed through, he took both her
+hands in his.
+
+"I shall take you there," he said, looking down at her with grave, smiling
+eyes; "I knew you would not fail me.  When shall I call for you?"
+
+"Do not call for me at all; I think--I know it will be better for me to
+walk in alone, as of my own accord."
+
+"Ah, yes!"  he said, and told her the address.  She ran lightly up the
+steps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pair of
+starry eyes to his.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," she said, "I have had an exceptionally lovely evening.  I shall
+not soon forget it."
+
+"Nor I," he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gently
+raised her gloved hand to his lips.  Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of the
+old school in his manner of showing reverence to women.
+
+"My brave young friend!" he said; and the next minute his firm footfall was
+crunching the gravel of the walk.  Neither of them had remembered that he
+was to have come in with her.  She waited till the gate clicked behind him,
+and then softly closed the heavy door.
+
+"My brave young friend!"  The words mounted like wine to her head.  She
+forgot her surroundings and stood in a sweet dream in the hall, slowly
+unbuttoning her glove.  She must have remained in this attitude for five
+minutes, when, raising her eyes, still shadowy with thought, she saw her
+cousin before her down the hall, his arm resting on the newel-post.
+
+"Louis!" she cried in surprise; and without considering, she hurried to
+him, threw her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.  Arnold,
+taken by storm, stepped slightly back.
+
+"When did you get home?"  she asked, the pale rose-flush that mantled her
+cheeks making her face exquisite.
+
+"A half an hour ago."
+
+She looked at him quickly.
+
+"Are you tired, Louis?"  she inquired gently.  "You are somewhat pale, and
+you speak in that way."
+
+"Did you enjoy the play?"  he asked quietly, passing by her remarks.
+
+"The play!" she echoed, and then a quick burning blush suffused her face.
+The epilogue had wholly obliterated the play from her recollection.
+
+"Oh, of course," she responded, turning from the rather sardonic smile of
+his lips and seating herself on the stairs; "do you want to hear about it
+now?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well," she began, laying her gloves in her lap and snuggling her chin in
+the palms of her hands, "shall I tell you how I felt about it?  In the
+first place, I was not ashamed of Shylock; if his vengeance was distorted,
+the cause distorted it.  But, oh, Louis, the misery of that poor old man!
+After all, his punishment was as fiendish as his guilt.  Booth was great.
+I wish you could have seen the play of his wonderful eyebrow and the
+eloquence of his fine hand.  Poor old, lonely Shylock!  With all his
+intellect, how could he regret that wretched little Jessica?"
+
+"He was a Jewish father."
+
+"How singularly you say that!  Of course he was a Jew; but Jewish hardly
+describes him, --at least, according to the modern idea.  Are you coming
+up?"
+
+"Yes.  Go on; I will lower the gas."
+
+"Wouldn't you like something to eat or drink?  You look so worn out; let me
+get you something."
+
+"Thanks; I have dined.  Good-night."  The girl passed on to her pretty
+white and gold room.  Shylock had again fled from her memory, but there was
+singing in her heart a deep, grave voice saying, --
+
+"My brave young friend!"
+
+
+Chapter X
+
+"A humble bard presents his respects to my Lady Marechal Niel, and begs her
+to step down to the gate for about two minutes."
+
+The note was handed to Ruth early the next morning as she stood in the
+kitchen beating up eggs for an omelette for her mother's breakfast.  A
+smile of mingled surprise and amusement overspread her face as she read;
+instinctively turning the card, she saw, "Herbert Kemp, M. D.," in simple
+lithograph.
+
+"Do I look all right, Mary?" she asked hurriedly, placing the bowl on the
+table and half turning to the cook as she walked to the door.  Mary
+deliberately placed both hands on her hips and eyed her sharply.
+
+"And striped flannel dresses and hairs in braids," she began, as she always
+did, as if continuing a thought, "being nice, pretty flannel and nice,
+pretty braids, Miss Ruth do look sweet-like, which is nothing out of the
+common, for she always do!"
+
+The last was almost shouted after Ruth, who had run from the cook's
+prolixity.
+
+As she hurried down the walk, she recognized the doctor's carriage,
+containing the doctor himself with Bob in state beside him.  Two hands went
+up to two respective hats as the gate swung behind her, and she advanced
+with hand extended to Bob.
+
+"You are looking much better," she exclaimed heartily, shaking the rather
+bashfully outstretched hand; "your first outing, is it not?"
+
+"Yes, lady."  It had been impossible for her to make him call her by name.
+
+"He elected to pay his first devoirs to the Queen of Roses, as he expressed
+it," spoke up Kemp, with his disengaged hand on the boy's shoulder, and
+looking with a puzzled expression at Ruth.  Last night she had been a young
+woman; this morning she was a young girl; it was only after he had driven
+off that he discovered the cause lay in the arrangement of her hair.
+
+"Thank you, Bob; presently I expect to have you paying me a visit on foot,
+when we can come to a clearer understanding about my flower-beds."
+
+"He says," returned the boy, turning an almost humbly devoted look on Kemp,
+"that I must not think of gardening for some weeks.  And so--and so--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"And so," explained the doctor, briskly, "he is going to hold my reins on
+our rounds, and imbibe a world of sunshine to expend on some flowers--yours
+or mine, perhaps--by and by."
+
+Bob's eyes were luminous with feeling as they rested on the dark, bearded
+face of his benefactor.
+
+"Now say all you have to say, and we'll be off," said Kemp, tucking in the
+robe at Bob's side.
+
+"I didn't have anything to say, sir; I came only to let her know."
+
+"And I am so glad, Bob," said Ruth, smiling up into the boy's shy, speaking
+eyes.  People always will try to add to the comfort of a convalescent, and
+Ruth, in turn, drew down the robe over the lad's hands.  As she did so, her
+cousin, Jennie Lewis, passed hurriedly by.  Her quick blue eyes took in to
+a detail the attitudes of the trio.
+
+"Good-morning, Jennie," said Ruth, turning; "are you coming in?"
+
+"Not now," bowing stiffly and hurrying on.
+
+"Cabbage-rose."
+
+Bob delivered himself of this sentiment as gently as if he had let fall a
+pearl.
+
+The doctor gave a quick look at Ruth, which she met, smiling.
+
+"He cannot help his inspiration," she remarked easily, and stepped back as
+the doctor pulled the reins.
+
+"Come again, Bob," she called, and with a smile to Kemp she ran in.
+
+"And I was going to say," continued Mary, as she re-entered the kitchen,
+"that a speck of aig splashed on your cheek, Miss Ruth."
+
+"Oh, Mary, where?"
+
+"But not knowin' that you would see anybody, I didn't think to run after
+you; so it's just this side your mouth, like if you hadn't wiped it good
+after breakfast."
+
+Ruth rubbed it off, wondering with vexation if the doctor had noticed it.
+Truth to say, the doctor had noticed it, and naturally placed the same
+passing construction on it that Mary had suggested.  Not that the little
+yellow splash occupied much of his attention.  When he drove off, all he
+thought of Ruth's appearance was that her braided hair hung gracefully and
+heavily down her back; that she looked young, --decidedly young and
+missish; and that he had probably spoken indiscreetly and impulsively to
+the wrong person on a wrong subject the night before.
+
+Dress has a subtile influence upon our actions: one gown can make a romp,
+another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette, out of
+the same woman.  The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to the fitness
+or unfitness of dress.  Now, Ruth was without doubt the same girl who had
+so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor's unconventional story;
+but the fashion of her gown had changed the impression she had made a few
+hours back.
+
+An hour later, and Dr. Kemp could not have failed to recognize Ruth, the
+woman of his confidence.  Something, perhaps a dormant spirit of
+worldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of her going
+out.  She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisability of her
+action; but the certain knowledge of her mother's disapproval of such a
+proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, would have cost
+her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act.  A bit of subterfuge which hurts no
+one is often not only excusable, but commendable.  Besides, it saved her
+mother an annoying controversy; and so, fully satisfied as to her part,
+Ruth took her way down the street.  The question as to whether the doctor
+had gone beyond the bounds of their brief acquaintance had of course been
+presented to her mind; but if a slight flush came into her face when she
+remembered the nature of the narrative and the personality of the narrator,
+it was quickly banished by the sweet assurance that in this way he had
+honored her beyond the reach of current flattery.
+
+A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave brown eyes;
+with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, and she longed
+to do it well.  Her purpose robbed her of every trace of nervousness; and
+it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knocked at room Number 10 on
+the second floor of a respectable lodging-house on Polk Street.
+
+Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly.  At
+this a tired voice called, "Come in."
+
+She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in a
+small, well-lighted, and neat room.  Seated in an armchair near the window,
+but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to be a
+golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the chair, and
+a childish hand supported the flower-like head.  As Ruth hesitated after
+closing the door behind her, she found a pair of listless violet eyes
+regarding her from a small white face.
+
+"Well?" queried the girl, without changing her position except to allow her
+gaze to travel to the floor.
+
+"You are Miss Rose Delano?" said Ruth, as she came a step nearer.
+
+"What of that?"  Asked the girl, lifelessly, her dull eyes wandering
+everywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor.
+
+"I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp.  Will that introduction be enough
+to make you shake hands with me?"
+
+She advanced toward her, holding out her hand.  A burning flame shot across
+Rose Delano's face, and she shrank farther back among her pillows.
+
+"No," she said, putting up a repellent hand; "it is not enough.  Do not
+touch me, or you will regret it.  You must not, I say."  She arose quickly
+from her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth.  The latter, taller than
+she by head and shoulders, looked down at her smiling.
+
+"I know no reason why I must not," she replied gently.
+
+"You do not know me."
+
+"No; but I know of you."
+
+"Then why did you come; why don't you go?"  The blue eyes looked with
+passionate resentment at her.
+
+"Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands with you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why do you wish to do that?"
+
+"Because I wish to be your friend.  May we not be friends?  I am not much
+older than you, I think."
+
+"You are centuries younger.  Who sent you here?  Dr. Kemp?"
+
+"No one sent me; I came of my own free will."
+
+"Then go as you came."
+
+"No."
+
+She stood gracefully and quietly before her.  Rose Delano moved farther
+from her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes.
+
+"You do not know what you are doing," cried the girl, excitedly; "have you
+no father or mother, no one to tell you what a girl should not do?"
+
+"I have both; but I have also a friend, --Dr. Kemp."
+
+"He is my friend too," affirmed Rose, tremulously.
+
+"Then we have one good thing in common; and since he is my friend and
+yours, why should we  not be friends?"
+
+"Because he is a man, and you are a woman.  He has then told you my story?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here--to such a creature as I?"
+
+"I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you.  But, oh, little one,
+I do so grieve for you because you won't believe that the world is not all
+merciless.  Come, give me your hand."
+
+"No," she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as the other
+advanced; "go away, please.  You are very good, but you are very foolish.
+Bad as I am, however, I shall not let you harm yourself more; leave my
+room, please."
+
+"Not till I have held your hands in mine."
+
+"Stop!  I tell you I don't want you to come here; I don't want your
+friendship.  Can't you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheart will
+upbraid you if you fail to carry out his will?"
+
+"My sweetheart?" she asked in questioning wonder.
+
+"Yes; only a lover could make a girl like you so forget herself.  I speak
+of Dr. Kemp."
+
+"But he is not my lover," she stated, still speaking gently, but with a
+pale face turned to her companion.
+
+"I--I--beg your pardon," faltered the girl, humbly drooping her head,
+shamed by the cold pride in her tormentor's face; "but why, oh, why, then,
+won't you go?" she continued, wildly sobbing.  "I assure you it is best."
+
+"This is best," said Ruth, deliberately; and before Rose knew it she had
+seized her two hands, and unclasping them from behind her, drew them to her
+own breast.
+
+"Now," she said, holding them tightly, "who is the stronger, you or I?"
+She looked pleasantly down at the tear-stained face so close to hers.
+
+"O God!" breathed the girl, her storm-beaten eyes held by the power of her
+captor's calmness.
+
+"Now we are friends," said Ruth, softly, "shall we sit down and talk?"
+
+Still holding the slender hands, she drew up a chair, and seating the frail
+girl in the armchair, sat down beside her.
+
+"Oh, wait!" whispered Rose; "let me tell you everything before you make me
+live again."
+
+"I know everything; and truly, Rose, nothing you can say could make me wish
+to befriend you less."
+
+"How nobly, how kindly he must have told you!"
+
+"Hush!  He told me nothing but the truth.  To me you are a victim, not a
+culprit.  And now, tell me, do you feel perfectly strong?"
+
+"Oh, yes."  The little hand swept in agony over her sad, childish face.
+
+"Then you ought to go out for a nice walk.  You have no idea how pleasant
+it is this morning."
+
+"I can't, indeed I can't!  and, oh, why should I?"
+
+"You can and you must, because you must go to work soon."
+
+Two frightened eyes were raised to hers.
+
+"Yes," she added, patting the hand she held; "you are a teacher, are you
+not?"
+
+"I was," she replied, the catch in her voice still audible.
+
+"What are you used to teaching?"
+
+"Spanish, and English literature."
+
+"Spanish--with your blue eyes!"  The sudden outburst of surprise sent a
+faint April-like beam into Rose's face.
+
+"Si, Senorita."
+
+"Then you must teach me.  Let me see.  Wednesdays, --Wednesday afternoon,
+yes?"
+
+Again the frightened eyes appealed to her; but Ruth ignored them.
+
+"And so many of my friends would like to speak Spanish.  Will you teach
+them too?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Levice, how can I go with such a past?"
+
+"I tell you," said Ruth, proudly rearing her head, "if I introduce you as
+my friend, you are, you must be, presentable."
+
+The pale lips strove to answer her.
+
+"To-morrow I shall come with a number of names of girls who are 'dying,' as
+they say, to speak Spanish, and then you can go and make arrangements with
+them.  Will you?"
+
+Thus pushed to the wall, Rose's tear-filled eyes were her only answer.
+
+Ruth's own filled in turn.
+
+"Dear little Rose," she said, her usual sweet voice coming back to her,
+"won't it be lovely to do this?  You will feel so much better when you once
+get out and are earning your independent, pleasant living again.  And now
+will you forgive me for having been so harsh?"
+
+"Forgive you!"  A red spot glowed on each pallid cheek; she raised her eyes
+and said with simple fervor, "I would die for you."
+
+"No, but you may live for me," laughed Ruth, rising; "will you promise me
+to go out this morning, just for a block or two?"
+
+"I promise you."
+
+"Well, then, good-by."  She held out her hand meaningly; a little
+fluttering one was placed in hers, and Ruth bent and kissed the wistful
+mouth.  That pure kiss would have wiped out every stain from Rose's
+worshipping soul.
+
+"I shall see you to-morrow surely," she called back, turning a radiant face
+to the lonely little figure in the doorway.  She felt deliriously happy as
+she ran down the stairs; her eyes shone like stars; a buoyant joyfulness
+spoke in her step.
+
+"It is so easy to be happy when one has everything," she mused.  She forgot
+to add, "And gives much."  There is so much happiness derived from a kind
+action that were it not for the motive, charity might be called supreme
+selfishness.
+
+
+Chapter XI.
+
+She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged to
+take Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been ill
+and was in want.
+
+"And I was thinking," she added with naive policy, "that I might combine a
+little business with pleasure this afternoon, --pay off some of those ever
+urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time try to get up
+a class of pupils for Miss Delano.  What do you think?"
+
+"That would be nice; don't forget Mrs. Bunker.  I know you don't like her,
+but you must pay a call for the musical which we did not attend; and she
+has children who might like to learn Spanish.  I wonder if I could take
+lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet so old but I may
+learn."
+
+"You might ask the doctor.  He has almost dismissed himself now; and after
+we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in a class.
+Mother and daughter can then go to school together."
+
+"It is very fortunate," Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping her
+necessary glass of port, "that C_ sent your hat this morning to wear with
+your new gown.  Isn't it?"
+
+"Fortunate!" Ruth exclaimed, laughing banteringly; "it is destiny."
+
+So Mrs. Levice slipped easily into Ruth's plan from a social standpoint,
+and Ruth slipped out, trim and graceful, from her mother's artistic
+manipulations.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till her
+husband's return, which promised to be early in the afternoon.
+
+She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis came
+bustling in.  Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; one
+looked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which one
+anticipates the latest number of a society journal.
+
+"Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther," she said after they had
+exchanged greetings.  "I have brought my work, so I shall not mind the
+quiet in the least."
+
+"As if I would bore you in that way!" returned Mrs. Levice, with a laughing
+glance at her, as she closed her desk.  "Lay off your things, and let us
+have a downright comfortable afternoon.  Don't forget a single sensation; I
+am actually starving for one."
+
+Mrs. Lewis smiled grimly as she fluffed up her bang with her hat-pin.  She
+drew up a second cosey rocking-chair near her aunt's, drew out her needle
+and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, her tongue soon
+acquired its accustomed momentum.
+
+"Where is Ruth?" she began, winding her thread round her chubby,
+ring-bedecked finger.
+
+"She is paying off some calls for a change."
+
+"Indeed!  Got down to conventionality again?"  "You would not call her
+unconventional, would you?"
+
+"Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion."
+
+Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly.  Without doubt there was an
+underground mine beneath this non-committal remark.  Mrs. Lewis rocked
+violently backward and forward without raising her eyes.  Her face was
+beet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent.  Mrs. Levice
+waited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousin
+disapproved of so obviously.  She like Jennie; every one who knew her
+recognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew her
+agreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, to Mrs.
+Lewis's imagination, and these airy comfits were passed around
+promiscuously to whoever was on hand.  Not a sound broke the portentous
+silence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needle
+through, and the hurricane she raised with her rocking.
+
+"I was at the theatre last night."
+
+The blow drew no blood.
+
+"Which theatre?" asked Mrs. Levice, innocently.
+
+"The Baldwin; Booth played the 'Merchant of Venice.'"
+
+"Did you enjoy it?" queried her aunt, either evading or failing to perceive
+the meaning.
+
+"I did."  A pause, and then, "Did Ruth?"
+
+Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at no
+perturbation.
+
+"Very much.  Booth is her actor-idol, you know."
+
+"So I have heard."  She spread her crochet work on her knee as if measuring
+its length, then with striking indifference picked it up again and adjusted
+her needle, --
+
+"She came in rather late, didn't she?"
+
+"Did she?" questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirect
+thrusts.  "I did not know; had the curtain risen?"
+
+"No; there was plenty of time for every one to recognize her."
+
+"I had no idea she was so well known."
+
+"Those who did not know her, knew her escort.  Dr. Kemp is well known, and
+his presence is naturally remarked."
+
+"Yes; his appearance is very striking."
+
+"Aunt Esther!"  The vehemence of Mrs. Lewis's feelings sent her ball of
+cotton rolling to the other end of the room.
+
+"My dear, what is it?"  Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interested
+eyes on her niece.
+
+"You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruth with
+Dr. Kemp."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman but
+Uncle or Louis, and we all were surprised.  The Hoffmans sat behind us, and
+Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant.  I met several
+acquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made some
+remark about Ruth.  One said, 'I had no idea the Levices were so intimate
+with Dr. Kemp;' another young girl laughed and said, 'Ruth Levice had a
+swell escort last night, didn't she?'  Still another asked, 'Anything on
+the tapis in your family, Mrs. Lewis?'  And what could I say?"
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+Mrs. Levice's quiet tone did not betray her vexation.  She had feared just
+such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but her husband's
+views had overruled hers, and she was now bound to uphold his.
+Nevertheless, she hated anything of the kind.
+
+"I simply said I knew nothing at all about it, except that he was your
+physician.  Even if I had known, I wouldn't have said more."
+
+"There is no more to be said.  Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendly
+through their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in the course
+of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious to see this
+play, and had no escort.  So he asked her, and her father saw no objection
+to her going.  It is a pity she didn't think to hand round a written
+explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre."
+
+"There you go, Aunt Esther!  Jewish friends!  I am sure that no matter how
+indifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewish
+girls never go alone to the theatre with any one outside of the family, and
+certainly not with a Christian."
+
+"What has that to do with it, so long as he is a gentleman?"
+
+"Nothing.  Only I didn't think you cared to have Ruth's name coupled with
+one."
+
+"No, nor with any one.  But as I cannot control people's tongues--"
+
+"Then I would not give them cause for wagging.  Aunt Esther, is there
+anything between Ruth and Dr. Kemp?"
+
+"Jennie, you surprise and anger me.  Do you know what you insinuate?"
+
+"I can't help it.  Either you are crazy, or ignorant of what is going on,
+and I consider it my duty to enlighten you," --a gossip's duties are all
+away from home, --"unless, of course, you prefer to remain in blissful or
+wilful ignorance."
+
+"Speak out, please."
+
+"Of course I knew you must have sanctioned her going last night, though, I
+must confess, I still think you did very wrongly; but do you know where she
+went this morning?"
+
+Mrs. Levice was put out.  She was enough of a Jewess to realize that if you
+dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowly
+conventional Jewish pathway.  That Ruth, her only daughter, should be the
+subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; but that
+her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed her beyond
+endurance.
+
+"I do know," she said in response to the foregoing question.  "Ruth is not
+a sneak, --she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mild that
+there would be no harm if she left them untold.  She called on a poor young
+girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish."
+
+"A friend of Dr. Kemp."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate,
+lost her child at its birth."
+
+The faint flush on Mrs. Levice's cheek receded.
+
+"Who told you this?" she questioned in an even, low voice.
+
+"I thought you could not know.  Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girl
+lives, told me."
+
+"And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?"
+
+"I will tell you.  Mrs. Blake does my white sewing.  I was there this
+morning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving another
+farther down the hall.  Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room, and
+she told me the story."
+
+"Naturally."  The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis's face.
+
+"For me it was; and in this case," she retorted with rising accents, "my
+vulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward.  I heard a scandalous account of
+the girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth is the
+only visitor she has had."
+
+"I am sorry to hear this, Jennie."
+
+"I know you are, Aunt Esther.  But what I find so very queer is that Dr.
+Kemp, who pretends to be her friend, --and I have seen them together many
+times, --should have sent her there.  Don't you?"
+
+"I do not understand it at all, --neither Ruth nor him."
+
+"Surely you don't think Ruth knew anything of this?"  questioned Mrs.
+Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
+
+"Of course not," returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely.  She had long ago
+acknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter's nature
+that she had never gauged.
+
+"I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a man
+nevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck me as
+very suggestive that he was that girl's only friend."
+
+"Therefore he must have been a good friend."
+
+Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr. Levice,
+who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway.  Mrs. Levice breathed a sigh
+of hysterical relief.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Jennie," he said, coming into the room and shaking her
+hand; "sit down again.  Good-afternoon Esther;" he stooped to kiss his
+wife.
+
+Mrs. Lewis's hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed.  She
+had been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the head and
+pride of the whole family.
+
+"I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you are so poor
+as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which you evidently know
+nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views to yourself."  It was the
+habit of all of Levice's relatives to listen in silence to any personal
+reprimand the dignified old man might offer.
+
+"I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterize it
+as--petty.  Can't you and your friends see anything without springing at
+shilling-shocker conclusions?  Don't you know that people sometimes enjoy
+themselves without any further design?  So much for the theatre talk.  What
+is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge my honorable friend,
+Dr. Kemp.  Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be as remote from Dr.
+Kemp's possibilities as the antipodes.  Remember, what I say is
+indisputable.  Whether Ruth knew the story of this girl or not, I cannot
+say, but either way I feel assured that what she did was well done--if
+innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better.  And I venture to assert
+that she is not a whit harmed by the action.  In all probability she will
+tell us all the particulars if we ask her.  Otherwise, Jennie, don't you
+think you have been unnecessarily alarmed?"  The benign gentleness of his
+question calmed Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"Uncle," she replied earnestly, "in my life such things are not trivial;
+perhaps because my life is narrower.  I know you and Ruth take a different
+view of everything."
+
+"Don't disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradicted or
+to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared to change
+them.  A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the level of a
+spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, for it is
+more deadly than a sword.  Your higher interests should make you overlook
+every little action of your neighbors.  You only see or hear what takes
+place when the window is open; you can never judge from this what takes
+place when the window is shut.  How are the children?"
+
+By dint of great tenderness he strove to make her more at ease.
+
+Ruth, confronted with their knowledge, confessed, with flushed cheeks and
+glowing eyes, her contretemps.
+
+"And," she said in conclusion, "Father, Mamma, nothing you can say will
+make me retract anything I have done or purpose doing."
+
+"Nothing?" repeated her father.
+
+"I hope you won't ask me to, but that is my decision."
+
+"My darling, I dislike to hear you call yourself a mule," said her father,
+looking at her with something softer than disapproval; "but in this case I
+shall not use the whip to turn you from your purpose.  Eh, Esther?"
+
+"It is Quixotic," affirmed Mrs. Levice; "but since you have gone so far,
+there is no reasonable way of getting out of it.  When next I see the
+doctor, I shall speak to him of it."
+
+"There will be no occasion, dear," remonstrated the indulgent father, at
+sight of the annoyed flash in Ruth's eyes; "I shall."
+
+By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not so smooth
+as one of many children may think; every action of the former assumes such
+prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and very often sent to
+Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-lucky offspring has his
+little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked, through the propinquity
+of others.
+
+
+Chapter XII
+
+If Ruth, in the privacy of her heart, realized that she was sailing toward
+dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears.  Possibly
+she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smooth stream of
+delight.  When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warning black lurking
+in the far horizon.  Without doubt the girl's soul and sympathies were
+receiving their proper food.  Life was full for her, not because she was
+occupied, --for a busy life does not always prove a full one, --but because
+she entered thoroughly into the lives of others, struggled with their
+struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and was beginning to see in
+everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence.  Under ordinary
+circumstances one cannot see much misery without experiencing a world of
+disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; but Ruth was not living just at
+that time under ordinary circumstances.
+
+Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that made her
+pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twin
+dreamstars.  She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard save
+only by herself.  At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly name to
+herself the meaning of it all, _ a puritanic modesty withheld her.  Yet all
+the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banish from her
+memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light that fell from eyes
+that glanced at her.  For the present, these were grace sufficient for her
+daily need.  Given the perfume, what need to name the flower?
+
+Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in their
+different ways.  Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she was
+growing more softly beautiful.  Her father, holding his hands a few inches
+from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzled look, "I am
+afraid to touch you; sparks might fly."
+
+Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her hands
+clasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting in the
+witchery of their expression.  By some occult power her glance fell
+unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement and
+speculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands went
+swiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, and she
+passed quickly from the room.  Arnold sat down to solve this problem of an
+unknown quantity.
+
+Ruth's birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting with Rose
+Delano.
+
+The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consisted only in
+making the day pass pleasantly for the one whose day of days it was, --a
+graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one for all
+concerned.
+
+On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in her
+element.  She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had worn five
+years before on the occasion of some festivity.  The girlish fashion of the
+white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, the round baby
+waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child of her.
+
+"Who can imagine me seventeen?" she asked gayly as she entered the library,
+softly lighted by many wax candles.  Her mother, who was again enjoying the
+freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced in her own
+particular chair, looked up at her.
+
+"That little frock makes me long to take you in my lap," said she,
+brightly.
+
+"And it makes me long to be there," answered Ruth, throwing herself into
+her mother's arms and twining her arms about her neck.
+
+"How now, Mr. Arnold, you can't scare me tonight with your sarcastic
+disapproval!" she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousin seated
+in a deep blue-cushioned chair.
+
+"I have no desire to scare you, little one," he answered pleasantly.  "I
+only do that to children or grown-up people."
+
+"And what am I, pray, good sir?"
+
+"You are neither; you are neither child or woman; you are neither flesh nor
+spirit; you are uncanny."
+
+"Dear me!  In other words, I am a conundrum.  Who will guess me?"
+
+"You are the Sphinx," replied her cousin.
+
+"I won't be that ugly-faced thing," she retorted; "guess again."
+
+"Impossible.  Once acquire a sphinx's elusiveness and you are a mystery
+perpetual.  You alone can unriddle the riddle."
+
+"I can't.  I give myself up."
+
+"Not so fast, young woman," broke in her father, shutting his magazine and
+settling his glasses more firmly upon his nose; "that is an office I alone
+can perform.  Who has been hunting on my preserves?"
+
+"Alas!  They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score."  She sat up
+with a forlorn sigh, adding, "Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and not a
+heart to hang on my chatelaine."
+
+"Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays," said Louis, reassuringly; "I
+am sure you have mittened one or two."
+
+"Oh, yes," she answered, laughing evasively, "both of little Toddie
+Flynn's.  Mamma, don't you think I am too big a baby for you to hold long?"
+She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father's chair, exclaimed, --
+
+"Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it short
+and sweet and with a moral like you."
+
+Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.
+
+"Once upon a time," he began, "a little boy went into his father's
+warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land.  He did not die, but he was
+so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him.  That is short and sweet; and
+what is the moral?"
+
+"Selfishness brings misery," answered Ruth, promptly; "clever of both of
+us, but what is the analogy?  Louis, you look lonesome over there.  I feel
+as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights."
+
+"And get scorched for my pains?  Thanks; this is very comfortable.
+Distance adds to illusion."
+
+"You don't mean to admit you have any illusions, do you?  Why, those
+glasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe.  Did you
+ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?"
+
+"Yes; there is a standing institution of whose honest value there is no
+doubt."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"My bed."
+
+"After all, it is a lying institution, my friend; and are you not deposing
+your masculine muse, --your cigar?  Oh, that reminds me of the annual
+peace-pipe."
+
+She jumped up, snatched a candle, and left the room.  As she turned toward
+the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell.  She stood
+quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid opened the door.
+
+"Is Miss Levice in?" asked the voice that made the little candle-light seem
+like myriads of swimming stars.  As the maid answered in the affirmative,
+she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancing eyes of Dr. Kemp.
+
+"Good-evening," she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which he grasped
+and shook heartily.
+
+"Is it Santa Filomena?" he asked, smiling into her eyes.
+
+"No, only Ruth Levice, who is pleased to see you.  Will you step into the
+library?  We are having a little home evening together."
+
+"Thank you.  Directly."  He slipped out of his topcoat, and turning quietly
+to her, said, "But before we go in, and I enact the odd number, I wish to
+say a few words to you alone, please."
+
+She bent a look of inquiry upon him, and meeting the gaze of his compelling
+eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room.  He noticed how the
+soft light she held made her the only white spot in the dark room, till,
+touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo over everything.  That
+it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at a glance.
+
+She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself in a
+quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread like hands
+of blessing above her head.  The doctor declined to sit down, but stood
+with one hand upon the fragile table and looked down at her.
+
+"I am inclined to think, after all," he said slowly, "that you are in truth
+the divine lady with the light.  It is a pretty name and a pretty fame,
+--that of Santa Filomena."
+
+What had come over her eyelids that they refused to be raised?
+
+"I think," he continued with a low laugh, "that I shall always call you so,
+and have all rights reserved.  May I?"
+
+"I am afraid," she answered, raising her eyes, "that your poem would be
+without rhyme or reason; a candle is too slight a thing for such an
+assumption."
+
+"But not a Rose Delano.  I saw her to-day, and at least one sufferer would
+turn to kiss your shadow.  Do you know what a wonderfully beautiful thing
+you have done?  I came to-night to thank you; for any one who makes good
+our ideals is a subject for thanks.  Of course, the thing had no personal
+bearing upon myself; but being an officious fellow, I thought it proper to
+let you know that I know.  That is my only excuse for coming."
+
+"Did you need an excuse?"
+
+"That, or an invitation."
+
+"Oh, I never thought of you--as--as--"
+
+"As a man?"
+
+How to answer this?  Then finally she said, --
+
+"As caring to waste an evening."
+
+"Would it be a waste?  There is an old adage that one might adapt, then, 'A
+wilful waste makes a woful want.'  Want is a bad thing, so economy would
+not be a half-bad idea.  Shall we go in to your family now, or will they
+not think you have been spirited away?"
+
+He took the candle from her, and they retraced their steps.  As she turned
+the handle of the door, she said, --
+
+"Will you give me the candle, please, and walk in?  I am going upstairs."
+
+"Are you coming down again?" he asked, standing abruptly still.
+
+"Oh, yes.  Father," she called, opening wide the door, "here is Dr. Kemp."
+
+With this announcement she fled up the staircase.
+
+She had come up for some cigars; but when she got into her father's room,
+she seated herself blindly and looked aimlessly down at her hands.  What a
+blessed reprieve this was!  If she could but stay here!  She could if it
+were not for the peace-pipe.  Such a silly performance too!  Father kept
+those superfine cigars over in the cabinet there.  Should she bring only
+two as usual?  Then she was going?  Why not?  It would look very rude not
+to do so.  Besides, she wondered what they were talking about.  She
+supposed she must have looked very foolish in that gown with her hair all
+mussed; and then his eyes--  She arose suddenly and walked to the
+dressing-table with her light.  After all, it was not very unbecoming.  Had
+her face been so white all the evening?  Louis liked her face to be
+colorless.  Oh, she had better hurry down.
+
+"Here comes the chief!" cried her mother as she entered.  "Now, Doctor, you
+can see the native celebrating her natal day."
+
+"She enacts the witch," said her father "and sends us, living, to the happy
+hunting-grounds.  Will you join us, Doctor?"
+
+"If Lachesis thinks me worthy.  Is the operation painful?"
+
+He received no answer as Ruth came forward with a box of tempting Havanas.
+She selected one, and placing the box on a chair, reached to the high-tiled
+mantel-shelf, whence she took a tiny pair of scissors and deftly cut off
+the point of the cigar.  She seemed quite unconscious that all were
+watching her.  Louis handed her a lighted match, and putting the cigar
+between her lips, she lit it into life.  The doctor was amused.
+
+She blew up a wreath of the fragrant smoke and handing it to her father,
+said, --
+
+"With this year's love, Father."
+
+The doctor grew interested.
+
+She took another, and lighting it as gracefully, and without the slightest
+approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis's outstretched hand.
+
+"Well?" he suggested, holding it from his lips till she had spoken.
+
+"I can think of nothing you care for sufficiently to wish you."
+
+"Nothing?"
+
+"Unless," with sudden mischief, "I wish you a comfortable bed all the year
+round--and pleasant dreams, Louis."
+
+"That is much," he answered dryly as he drew a cloud of smoke.
+
+The doctor became anticipative.
+
+Ruth's embarrassment was evident as she turned and offered him a cigar.
+
+"Do you smoke?" she asked, holding out the box.
+
+"Like a chimney," he replied, looking at her, but taking none, "and in the
+same manner as other common mortals."
+
+She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hint
+his words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, saying as he
+did so, "So you were born in summer, --the time of all good things.  Well,
+'Thy dearest wish, wish I thee,' and may it not pass in the smoking!"
+
+She swept him a deep, mock courtesy.
+
+Afer this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation.  She knew
+that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages for a
+bachelor of club life over home life.  She knew that Louis was making some
+brilliantly cynical remarks, --asserting that the apparent privacy of the
+latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the former was
+deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter.  All of which the
+doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic.
+
+"Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor," Mrs. Levice summed
+up, "and that is to marry.  Louis complains of the club, and thinks himself
+a sort of cynosure in a large household.  You, Doctor, complain of the want
+of coseyness in a bachelor establishment.  To state it simply, you need a
+wife."
+
+"And oust my Pooh-ba!  Madame, you do not know what a treasure that old
+soldier of mine is.  If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but be
+paying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house and
+linen; he entertains my palate as deliciously as a Corinne her salon,
+and--is never in my way or thoughts.  Can you commend me any woman so
+self-abnegatory?"
+
+"Many women, but no wife, I am glad to say.  But you need one."
+
+"So!  Pray explain wherein the lack is apparent."
+
+"Oh, not to me, but--"
+
+"You mean you consider a wife an adjunct to a doctor's certificate."
+
+"It is a great guarantee with women," put in Louis, "as a voucher against
+impatience with their own foibles.  They think only home practice can
+secure the adequate tolerance.  Eh, Aunt Esther?"
+
+"Nonsense, Louis!" interrupted Mr. Levice; "what has that to do with
+skill?"
+
+"Skill is one thing; the manner of man is another--with women."
+
+"That is worth considering--or adding to the curriculum," observed Kemp,
+turning his steady, quiet gaze upon Arnold.
+
+Ruth noticed that the two men had taken the same position, --vis- -vis to
+each other in their respective easy-chairs, their heads thrown back upon
+the cushions, their arms resting on the chair-arms.  Something in Louis's
+veiled eyes caused her to interpose.
+
+"Will you play, Louis?" she asked.
+
+"Not to-night, ma cousine," he replied, glancing at her from lowered lids.
+
+"It is not optional with you to-night, Louis," she insisted playfully,
+rising; "we--desire you to play."
+
+"Or be punished for treason?  Has your Majesty any other behest?"
+
+"No; I shall even turn the leaves for you."
+
+"The leaves of what, --memory?  I'll play by rote."
+
+He strolled over to the piano and sat down.  He struck a few random chords,
+some soft, some florid, some harsh, some melting; he strung them together
+and then glided into a dreamy, melodious rhythm, that faded into a
+bird-like hallelujah, --swelling now into grandeur, then fainting into
+sobs, then rushing into an allegro so brilliantly bewildering that when the
+closing chords came like the pealing tones of an organ, Ruth drew a long
+sigh with the last lingering vibrations.
+
+"What is that?" asked Levice, looking curiously at his nephew, who, turning
+on his music-chair, took up his cigar again.
+
+"That," he replied, flecking an ash from his coat lappel, "has no name that
+I know of; some people call it 'The Soul.'"
+
+A pained sensation shot through Ruth at his words, for he had plainly been
+improvising, and he must have felt what he had played.
+
+"Here, Ruth, sing this," he continued, turning round and picking up a sheet
+of music.
+
+"What?" she asked without moving.
+
+"'The bugle;' I like it."
+
+Kemp looked at her expectantly.  He said he had not known she sang; but
+since she did, he was sure her voice was contralto.
+
+"Why?" she asked.
+
+"Because your face is contralto."
+
+She turned from his eyes as if they hurt her, and walked over to Louis's
+side.
+
+It could hardly be called singing.  Louis had often said that her voice
+needed merely to be set to rhythmic time to be music; in pursuance of which
+idea he would put into her hand some poem that touched his fancy, tell her
+to read it, and as she read, he would adapt to it an accompaniment
+according to the meaning and measure of the lines, --grandly solemn,
+daintily tripping, or wildly inspiriting.  It was more like a chant than a
+song.  To-night he chose Tennyson's Bugle-song.  Her voice was subservient
+to the accompaniment, that shook its faint, sweet bugle-notes at first as
+in a rosy splendor; it rose and swelled and echoed and reverberated and
+died away slowly as if loath to depart.  Arnold's playing was the poem,
+Ruth's voice the music the poet might have heard as he wrote, sweet as a
+violin, deep as the feeling evolved, --for when she came to the line
+beginning, "oh, love, they die in yon rich sky," she might have stood alone
+with one, in some high, clear place, so mellow was the thrill of her voice,
+so rapt the expression of her face.  Kemp looked as if he would not tire if
+the sound should "grow forever and forever."
+
+Mrs. Levice was wakeful after she had gone to bed.  Her husband also seemed
+inclined to prolong the night, for he made no move to undress.
+
+"Jules," said she in a low, confidential tone, "do you realize that our
+daughter is twenty-two?"
+
+He looked at her with a half-smile.
+
+"Is not this her birthday?"
+
+"Her twenty-second, and she is still unmarried."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, it is time she were.  I should like to see it."
+
+"So should I," he acquiesced with marked decision.
+
+Mrs. Levice straightened herself up in bed and looked at her husband
+eagerly.
+
+"Is it possible," she exclaimed, "that we have both thought of the same
+parti?"
+
+It was now Mr. Levice's turn to start into an interested position.
+
+"Of whom," he asked with some restraint, "are you speaking?"
+
+"Hush!  Come here; I have longed for it for some time, but have never
+breathed it to a soul, --Louis."
+
+"Levice had become quite pale, but as she pronounced the familiar name, the
+color returned to his cheek, and a surprised look sprang into his eyes.
+
+"Louis?  Why do you think of such a thing?"
+
+"Because I think them particularly well suited.  Ruth, pardon me, dear, has
+imbibed some very peculiar and high-flown notions.  No merely commonplace
+young man would make her happy.  A man must have some ideas outside of what
+his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment's interested thought
+on him.  She has repelled some of the most eligible advances for no obvious
+reasons whatever.  Now, she does not care a rap for society, and goes only
+because I exact it.  That is no condition for a young girl to allow herself
+to sink into; she owes a duty to her future.  I am telling you this
+because, of course, you see nothing peculiar in such a course.  But it is
+time you were roused; you know one look from you is worth a whole sermon
+from me.  As to my thinking of Louis, well, in running over my list of
+eligibles, I found he fulfilled every condition, --good-looking, clever,
+cultivated, well-to-do, and--of good family.  Why should it not be?  They
+like each other, and see enough of each other to learn to love.  We,
+however, must bring it to a head."
+
+"First provide the hearts, little woman.  What can I do, ask Louis or
+Ruth?"
+
+"Jules," she returned with vexation, "how childish!  Don't you feel well?
+Your cheeks are rather flushed."
+
+"They are somewhat warm.  I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
+ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out."
+
+Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her, her
+brush idle in her hand.  Her father stood silently in the doorway,
+regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart.  Jules Levice was a keen
+student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse of something
+in the doctor's eyes while Ruth sang.  He knew it had been harmless, for
+her back had been turned, but he wished to reassure himself.
+
+"Not in bed yet, my child?"
+
+She started up in confusion as he came in.
+
+"Of what were you thinking, darling?" he continued, putting his hand under
+her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.
+
+"Well," she answered slowly, "I was not thinking of anything important; I
+was thinking of you.  We are going to Beacham's next week--and have you any
+fine silk shirts?"
+
+He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.
+
+"Well, no," he answered; "I leave all such fancies to your care.  So we go
+next week.  I am glad; and you?"
+
+"I?  Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know."
+
+"Yes.  Well, good-night, love."  He took her face between his hands, and
+drawing it down to his, kissed it.  Still holding her, he said with sweet
+solemnity, --
+
+"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
+
+"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'"
+
+
+Chapter XIII
+
+It was August.  The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until the
+gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the quiet
+autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.
+
+Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to continue
+the management of the household affairs until their return, a month later.
+Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had to be put in running
+order for a month, and she realized with a pang at parting with some of her
+simple, sincere proteges that were this part of her life withdrawn, the
+rest would pall insufferably.
+
+The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the steps of
+the veranda with Louis, who was enjoying a post-prandial smoke.  Mr. and
+Mrs. Levice, in the soft golden gloaming of late summer, were strolling
+arm-in-arm among the flower-beds.  Mrs. Levice, without obviously looking
+toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth was looking well in a plain
+black gown which she had had no time to change after her late shopping.
+She did not know that, close and isolated as the young man and woman stood,
+not only were they silent, but each appeared oblivious of the other's
+presence.
+
+Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreaths of
+blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under a
+dream-spell.
+
+As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the broken
+sentence, --
+
+"Jennie--good-by--to-day."
+
+This roused her from her revery, and she called to her mother, --
+
+"Why, I forgot to drop in at Jennie's this afternoon, as I promised."
+
+"How annoying! When you know how sensitive she is and how angry she gets at
+any neglect."
+
+"I can run out there now.  It is light enough."
+
+"But it will be dark in less than an hour.  Louis, will you go out to
+Jennie's with Ruth?"
+
+"Eh?  Oh, certainly, if she wishes me."
+
+"I wish you to come if you yourself wish it.  I'll run in and get my hat
+and jacket while you decide."
+
+Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and a
+light gray jacket, which she handed to Louis to hold for her.
+
+"New?" he asked, pulling it into place in the back.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "do you like it for travelling?"
+
+"Under a duster.  Otherwise its delicate complexion will be rather freckled
+when you arrive at Beacham's."
+
+He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her down to
+the gate.  They turned the corner, walking southward toward the valley.
+Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them saunter off.
+When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned around and sang gayly
+to Mr. Levice, "'Ca va bien!'"
+
+The other two walked on silently.  The evening was perfect.  To the west
+and sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color and
+molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green to the
+northward held the eye with their beauty.  The air was soft and languorous
+after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or mandolin sounded
+through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was over all.
+
+They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously turned
+into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin.  Suddenly Arnold felt his
+companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze from the landscape.
+Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightened up.  The
+disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a garden fence and
+bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. Herbert Kemp.
+
+As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there would be
+more speaking signs of the doctor's propinquity.  His forecasting was not
+at fault.
+
+Dr. Kemp's quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, was
+reached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which lounged the
+medical gentleman in person.  He was not heaven-gazing, but seemed plunged
+in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him.  Arnold's quick
+eye detected the pink flush that rose to the little ear of his cousin.  The
+sound of their footsteps on the stone sidewalk came faintly to Kemp; he
+raised his eyes slowly and indifferently.  The indifference vanished when
+he recognized them.
+
+With a hasty movement he threw the cigar from him and ran down the steps.
+
+"Good-evening," he called, raising his old slouch hat and arresting their
+evident intention of proceeding on their way.  They came up, perforce, and
+met him at the foot of the steps.
+
+"A beautiful evening," he said originally, holding out a cordial hand to
+Arnold and looking with happy eyes at Ruth.  She noticed that there was a
+marked difference in his appearance from anything she had been used to.
+His figure looked particularly tall and easy in a loose dark velvet jacket,
+thrown open from his broad chest; the large sombrero-like hat which had
+settled on the back of his head left to view his dark hair brushed
+carelessly backward; an unusual color was on his cheek, and a warm glow in
+his gray eyes.
+
+"I hope," he went on, frankly transferring his attention to Ruth, "this
+weather will continue.  We shall have a magnificent autumn; the woods must
+be beginning to look gorgeous."
+
+"I shall know better to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow?"
+
+"Yes; we leave for Beacham's to-morrow, you know."
+
+"No, I did not know;" an indefinable shadow over-clouded his face, but he
+said quickly, --
+
+"That is an old hunting-ground of mine.  The river teems with speckled
+treasures.  Are you a disciple of old Walton, Mr. Arnold?" he added,
+turning with courtesy to the silent Frenchman.
+
+"You mean fishing?  No; life is too short to hang my humor of a whole day
+on the end of a line.  I have never been at Beacham's."
+
+"It is a fine spot.  You will probably go down there this year."
+
+"My business keeps me tied to the city just at present.  A professional man
+has no such bond; his will is his master."
+
+"Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago.  A restful night is an
+unknown indulgence sometimes for weeks."
+
+His gaze moved from Arnold's peachy cheek, and falling upon Ruth, surprised
+her dark eyes resting upon him in anxious questioning.  He smiled.
+
+"We shall have to be moving on," she said, holding out a gloved hand.
+
+"Will you be gone long?" he asked, pressing it cordially.
+
+"About a month."
+
+"You will be missed--by the Flynns.  Good-by."  He raised his hat as he
+looked at her.
+
+Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off.
+
+They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the English
+language is the use of that highly expressive outlet of emotion, "Damn."
+Arnold was an old-timer, but he had not outgrown the charm of his first
+linguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, he
+distinctly though coolly said, "Damn him."
+
+Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expression of
+his face led her to believe that her ears had deceived her.
+
+A few more blocks were passed, and they stopped at a pretentious,
+many-windowed, Queen Anne house.  Ruth ran lightly up the steps, her cousin
+following her leisurely.
+
+She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewis
+herself.
+
+"Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn't mean to say that he does us
+the honor?"
+
+Mr. Arnold had said nothing of the kind; but he offered no disclaimer, and
+giving her rather a loose hand-shake, walked in.
+
+"Come right into the dining-room," she continued.  "I suppose you were
+surprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting the children
+to bed.  They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed their father, who
+wished to be very quiet this evening."
+
+By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the door of
+which she threw open.
+
+Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping the
+drawing-rooms for company only.  This is always presupposing that they have
+no extra sitting-room.  After all, a dining-room is not a bad place for the
+family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane for a round
+game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; while from an
+economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms in reception
+stiffness and ceremonious newness.
+
+The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained the
+regulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard.
+
+Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burning in
+a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room.
+
+"I have 'Yahrzeit' for my mother," explained Jo Lewis, glancing toward the
+taper after greeting his visitors.  He sat down quietly again.
+
+"Do you always burn the light?" asked Arnold.
+
+"Always.  A light once a year to a mother's memory is not much to ask of a
+son."
+
+"How long is it since you lost your mother?" questioned Ruth, gently.
+
+Jo Lewis was a man with whom she had little in common.  To her he seemed to
+have but one idea, --the amassing of wealth.  With her more intellectual
+cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusion of all higher
+aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for her footing.  Unpolished he
+certainly was, but the rough, exposed grain of his unhewn nature showed
+many strata of strength and virility.  In this gentle mood a tenderness had
+come into view that drew her to him with a touch of kinship.
+
+"Thirty years," he answered musingly, -- "thirty years.  It is a long time,
+Ruth; but every year when I light the taper it seems as if but yesterday I
+was a boy crying because my mother had gone away forever."  The strong man
+wiped his eyes.
+
+"The little light casts a long ray," observed Ruth.  "Love builds its own
+lighthouse, and by its gleaming we travel back as at a leap to that which
+seemed eternally lost."
+
+Jo Lewis sighed.  Presently the thoughts that so strongly possessed him
+found an outlet.
+
+"There was a woman for you!" he cried with glowing eyes.  "Why, Arnold, you
+talk of men being great financiers; I wonder what you would have said to
+the powers my mother showed.  We were poor, but poor to a degree of which
+you can know nothing.  Well, with a large family of small children she
+struggled on alone and managed to keep us not only alive, but clean and
+respectable.  In our village Sara Lewis was a name that every man and woman
+honored as if it belonged to a princess.  Jennie is a good woman, but life
+is made easy for her.  I often think how grand my mother would feel if she
+were here, and I were able to give her every comfort.  God knows how proud
+and happy I would have been to say, 'You have struggled enough, Mother;
+life is going to be a heaven on earth to you now.'  Well, well, what is the
+good of thinking of it?  To-morrow I shall go down town and deal with men,
+not memories; it is more profitable."
+
+"Not always," said Arnold, dryly.  The two men drifted into a business
+discussion that neither Mrs. Lewis nor Ruth cared to follow.
+
+"Are you quite ready?" asked Mrs. Lewis, drawing her chair closer to
+Ruth's.
+
+"Entirely," she replied; "we start on the 8.30 train in the morning."
+
+"You will be gone a month, will you not?"
+
+"Yes; we wish to get back for the holidays.  New Year's falls on the 12th
+of September, and we must give the house its usual holiday cleaning."
+
+"I have begun already.  Somehow I never thought you would mind being away."
+
+"Why, we always go to the Temple, you know; and I would not miss the
+Atonement services for a great deal."
+
+"Why don't you say 'Yom Kippur,' as everybody else does?"
+
+"Because 'Atonement' is English and means something to me.  Is there
+anything odd about that?"
+
+"I suppose not.  By the way, if there is anything you would like to have
+done while you are away, let me know."
+
+"I think I have seen to everything.  You might run in and see Louis now and
+then."
+
+"Louis," Mrs. Lewis called instantly, "be sure to come in often for dinner
+while the folks are gone."
+
+"Thank you; I shall.  The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enough
+to do away with any verbal invitation to another."
+
+He arose, seeing Ruth had risen and was kissing her cousins good-by.
+
+Mrs. Lewis beamed with pleasure at his words.
+
+"Now, won't you take something before you go?" she asked.  "Ruth, I have
+the loveliest cakes."
+
+"Oh, Jennie," remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, "we have just
+dined."
+
+"Let her enjoy herself," observed Louis; "she is never so happy as when she
+is feeding somebody."
+
+The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis's rosy face appeared
+behind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-looking little
+cakes.
+
+"Jo, get the Kirsch.  You must try one, Ruth; I made them myself."
+
+When they had complimented her on her cakes and Louis had drunk to his next
+undertaking, suggested by Jo Lewis, the visitors departed.
+
+They had been walking in almost total silence for a number of blocks, when
+Ruth turned suddenly to him and said with great earnestness, --
+
+"Louis, what is the matter with you?  For the last few days you have hardly
+spoken to me.  Have I done anything to annoy you?"
+
+"You?  Why, no, not that I remember."
+
+"Then, please, before we go off, be friendly with me again."
+
+"I am afraid I am not of a very hilarious temperament."
+
+"Still, you manage to talk to others."
+
+"Have you cared very much who talked to you lately?"
+
+Her cheek changed color in the starlight.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked.
+
+"Anything or nothing."
+
+Ruth looked at him haughtily.
+
+"If nothing," he continued, observing her askance from lowered lids, "what
+I am about to say will be harmless.  If anything, I still hope you will
+find it pardonable."
+
+"What are you about to say?"
+
+"It won't take long.  Will you be my wife?"
+
+And the stars still shone up in heaven!
+
+Her face turned white as a Niphetos rose.
+
+"Louis," she said finally and speaking with difficulty, "why do you ask me
+this?"
+
+"Why does any man ask a woman to be his wife?"
+
+"Generally because he loves her."
+
+"Well?"
+
+If he had spoken outright, she might have answered him; but the simple
+monosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her like a
+wall, before which she stood silent.
+
+"Answer me, Ruth."
+
+"If you mean it, Louis, I am very, very sorry."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I can never be your wife."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I do not love you--like that."
+
+Silence for half a block, the man's lips pressed hard together under his
+mustache, the girl's heart beating suffocatingly.  When he spoke, his voice
+sounded oddly clear in the hushed night air.
+
+"What do you mean by 'like that'?"
+
+Her little hand was clinched tight as it lay on his arm.  The perfect
+silence that followed the words of each made every movement significant.
+
+"You know, --as a woman loves the man she would marry, not as she loves a
+brotherly cousin."
+
+"The difference is not clear to me--but--how did you learn the difference?"
+
+"How dare you?" she cried, flashing a pair of dark, wet eyes upon him.
+
+"In such a case, 'I dare do all that may become a man.'  Besides, even if
+there is a difference, I still ask you to be my wife.  You would not regret
+it, Ruth, I think."
+
+His voice was not soft, but there was a certain strained pleading about it
+that pained her inexpressibly.
+
+"Louis," she said, with slow distinctness, her hand moving down until it
+touched his, "I never thought of this as a possibility.  You know how much
+I have always loved you, dear; but oh, Louis, will it hurt you very much,
+will you forgive me if I have to say no, I cannot be your wife?"
+
+"Wait.  I wish you to consider this well.  I am offering you all that I
+have in the world; it is not despicable.  Your family, I know, would be
+pleased.  Besides, it would be well for you--God knows, not because I am
+what I am, but for other reasons.  Wait.  I beg of you not to answer me
+till you have thought it over.  You know me; I am no saint, but a man who
+would give his life for you.  I ask of you nothing but the right to guard
+yours.  Do not answer me now."
+
+They had turned the corner of their block.
+
+"I need no time," said Ruth, with a sad sob in her voice; "I cannot marry
+you, Louis.  My answer would be the same to-morrow or at the end of all
+time, --I can never, never be your wife."
+
+"It is then as I feared, --anything."
+
+The girl's bowed head was the only answer to his bitter words.
+
+"Well," he said, with a hard laugh, "that ends it, then.  Don't let it
+bother you.  Your answer has put it entirely from my mind.  I should be
+pleased if you would forget it as readily as I shall.  I hardly think we
+shall meet in the morning.  I am going down to the club now.  Good-by;
+enjoy yourself."
+
+He held out his hand carelessly; Ruth carried it in both hers to her lips.
+Being at the gate, he lifted his hat with a smile and walked away.  Ruth
+did not smile; neither did Arnold when he had turned from her.
+
+
+Chapter XIV
+
+Beacham's lies in a dimple of the inner coast range, and is reached
+nowadays through one of the finest pieces of engineering skill in the
+State.  The tortuous route through the mountains, over trestle-bridges that
+span what seem, from the car-windows, like bottomless chasms, needs must
+hold some compensation at the end to counterbalance the fears engendered on
+the way.  The higher one goes the more beautiful becomes the scenery among
+the wild, marvellous redwoods that stand like mammoth guides pointing
+heavenward; and Beacham's realizes expectation.
+
+It is a quiet little place, with its one hotel and two attached cottages,
+its old, disused saw-mill, its tiny schoolhouse beyond the fairy-like
+woods, its one general merchandise store, where cheese and calico, hats and
+hoes, ham and hominy, are forthcoming upon solicitation.  It is by no means
+a fashionable resort; the Levices had searched for something as unlike the
+Del Monte and Coronado as milk is unlike champagne.  They were looking for
+a pretty, healthful spot, with good accommodations and few social
+attractions, and Beacham's offered this.
+
+They were not disappointed.  Ruth's anticipation was fulfilled when she saw
+the river.  Russian River is about as pretty a stream as one can view upon
+a summer's day.  Here at Beacham's it is very narrow and shallow, with low,
+shelving beaches on either bank; but in the tiny row-boat which she
+immediately secured, Ruth pushed her way into enchantment.  The river winds
+in and out through exquisite coves entangled in a wilderness of brambles
+and lace-like ferns that are almost transparent as they bend and dip toward
+the silvery waters; while, climbing over the rocky cliffs, run bracken and
+the fragrant yerba-buena, till, on high, they creep as if in awe about the
+great redwoods and pines of the forest.
+
+Morning and night Ruth, in her little boat, wooed the lisping waters.
+Often of a morning her mother was her companion; later on, her father or
+little Ethel Tyrrell; in the evening one of the Tyrrell boys, generally
+Will, was her gallant chevalier.  But it was always Ruth who rowed, --Ruth
+in her pretty sailor blouses, with her strong round arms and steadily
+browning hands; Ruth, whose creamy face and neck remained provokingly
+unreddened, and took on only a little deeper tint, as if a dash of bistre
+had been softly applied.  It was pleasant enough rowing down-stream with
+Ruth; she always knew when to sing "Nancy Lee," and when "White Wings"
+sounded prettiest.  There were numerous coves too, where she loved to beach
+her boat, --here to fill a flask with honey-sweet water from a rollicking
+little spring that came merrily dashing over the rocks, here to gather some
+delicate ferns or maiden-hair with which to decorate the table, or the
+trailing yerba-buena for festooning the boat.  But Ethel Tyrrell, aged
+three, thought they had the "dolliest" time when she and Ruth, having rowed
+a space out of sight, jumped out, and taking off their shoes and stockings
+and making other necessary preliminaries to wading, pattered along over the
+pebbly bottom, screaming when a sharp stone came against their tender feet,
+and laughing gleefully when the water rose a little higher than they had
+bargained for; then, when quite tired, they would retire to the beach or
+the boat and dry themselves with the soft damask of the sun.
+
+Ruth was happy.  There were moments when the remembrance of her last
+meeting with Louis came like a summer cloud over the ineffable brightness
+of her sky, and she felt a sharp pang at her heart; still, she thought, it
+was different with Louis.  His feeling for her could not be so strong as to
+make him suffer poignantly over her refusal.  She was almost convinced that
+he had asked her more from a whim of good-fellowship, a sudden desire,
+perhaps a preference for her close companionship when he did marry, than
+from any deeper emotion.  In consequence of these reflections her musings
+were not so sad as they might otherwise have been.
+
+Her parents laughed to see how she revelled in the freedom of the
+old-fashioned little spot, which, though on the river, was decidedly "out
+of the swim."  It was late in the season, and there were few guests at the
+hotel.  The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other being used by a
+pair of belated turtle-doves, --the wife a blushing dot of a woman, the
+husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walks like a devoted
+weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptive cough, a natty
+little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and the golden-haired
+Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell could not enjoy his
+hard-earned rest without one and all.  They were such a refined, happy,
+sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, that the Levices were
+attracted to them at once.  To be with Mrs. Tyrrell one whole day, Mrs.
+Levice said was a liberal education, --so bright, so uncomplaining, so
+ambitious for her children was she, and such a help and inspiration to her
+hard-worked husband.  Mr. Levice tramped about the woods with Tyrrell and
+brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moral bravery of a man who struggled
+on with a happy face and small hope for any earthly rest.  But the
+children!--Floy with her dreamy face and busy sketch-book, Will with his
+halo of golden hair, his manly figure and broad, open ambitions, Boss with
+his busy step and fishing-tackle, and baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran
+after Ruth the first time she saw her and begged her to come and play with
+her; ever since, she formed a part of the drapery of Ruth's skirt or a
+rather cumbersome necklace about her neck.  Every girl who has been
+debarred the blessing of babies in the house loves them promiscuously and
+passionately.  Ruth was no exception; it amused the ladies to watch her
+cuddle the child and wonder aloud at all her baby-talk.
+
+Will was her next favorite satellite.  A young girl with a winsome,
+sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of a
+fine fellow of fourteen.  Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
+saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.
+
+The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems so near,
+are just the time for such talk.
+
+They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamy gown
+and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hat in his
+hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he loved to do.
+
+"What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?" asked the boy
+suddenly.
+
+"Well, law is one--" she began.
+
+"That's the way Papa begins," he interrupted impatiently; "but I'll tell
+you what I think is the greatest.  Guess, now."
+
+"The ministry?" she ventured.
+
+"Oh, of course; but I'm not good enough for that, --that takes exceptions.
+Guess again."
+
+"Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery, --that is it.  You would be a
+brave soldier, Willikins, my man."
+
+"No, sir," he replied, flinging back his head; "I don't want to take lives;
+I want to save them."
+
+"You mean a physician, Will?"
+
+"That's it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon.  Don't you think that takes
+bravery?  And it's a long sight better than being a solider; he draws blood
+to kill, we do it to save.  What do you think, Miss Ruth?"
+
+"Indeed, you are right," she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
+beyond the river.  So they walked along; and as they were about to descent
+the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came suddenly upon
+them in the gloaming.  He stood stock-still, his mouth gaping wide.
+
+When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.
+
+"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed.
+
+The man's mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.
+
+"Begging your pardon, Miss, --I mean Her pardon, --the Lord forgive me, I
+took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the shining hair.
+Now, don't be telling of me, will you?"
+
+"Indeed, we won't; we'll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves.  Have you
+the mail?  I wonder if there is a letter for me."
+
+Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two.  It was still
+light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened them.
+
+"This," she announced in a matter-of-course way, "is from Miss Dorothy
+Gwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea next
+Saturday.  That, or the hay-ride, Will?  And this--this--"
+
+It was a simple envelope addressed to
+
+                Miss RUTH LEVICE--
+                              Beacham's--
+                                . . . County--
+                                        Cal.
+
+It was the sight of the dashes that caused the hiatus in her sentence, and
+made her heart give one great rushing bound.  The enclosure was to the
+point.
+
+        SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 18, 188--.
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR FRIEND, --That you may not denounce me as too presumptuous, I shall
+at once explain that I am writing this at Bob's urgent desire.  He has at
+length got the position at the florist's, and tells me to tell you that he
+is now happy.  I dropped in there last night; and when he gave me this
+message, I told him that I feared you would take it as an advertisement.
+He merely smiled, picked up a Marechal Niel that lay on the counter, and
+said, "Drop this in.  It's my mark; she'll understand."  So here are Bob's
+rose and my apology.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+She was pale when she turned round to the courteously waiting boy.  It was
+a very cold note, and she put it in her pocket to keep it warm.  The rose
+she showed to Will, and told him the story of the sender.
+
+"Didn't I tell you," he cried, when she had finished, "a doctor has the
+greatest opportunity in the world to be great--and a surgeon comes near it?
+I say, Miss Ruth, your Dr. Kemp must be a brick.  Isn't he?"
+
+"Boys would call him so," she answered, shivering slightly.
+
+It was so like him, she thought, to fulfil Bob's request in his hearty,
+friendly way; she supposed he wanted her to understand that he wrote to her
+only as Bob's amanuensis, --it was plain enough.  And yet, and yet, she
+thought passionately, it would have been no more than common etiquette to
+send a friendly word from himself to her mother.  Still the note was not
+thrown away.  Girls are so irrational; if they cannot have the hand-shake,
+they will content themselves with a sight of the glove.
+
+And Ruth in the warm, throbbing, summer days was happy.  She was not always
+active; there were long afternoons when mere existence was intensely
+beautiful.  To lie at full length upon the soft turf in the depths of the
+small enchanted woods, and hear and feel the countless spells of Nature,
+was unspeakable rapture.
+
+"Ah, Floy," she cried one afternoon, as she lay with her face turned up to
+the great green boughs that seemed pencilled against the azure sky, "if one
+could paint what one feels!  Look at these silent, living trees that stand
+in all their grandeur under some mighty spell; see how the wonderful heaven
+steals through the leaves and throws its blue softness upon the twilight
+gloom; here at our feet nestle the soft, green ferns, and over all is the
+indescribable fragrance of the redwoods.  Turn there, to your right, little
+artist, high up on that mountain; can you see through the shimmering haze a
+great team moving as if through the air?  It is like the vision of the
+Bethshemites in Dore's mystic work, when in the valley they lifted up their
+eyes and beheld the ark returning.  Oh, Floy, it is not Nature; it is God.
+And who can paint God?"
+
+"No one.  If one could paint Him, He would no longer be great," answered
+the girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth's enraptured countenance.
+
+One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairy
+spot.  It was very warm and still.  Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleep
+in the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to the
+Tyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices' veranda.  All Nature
+was drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered on as
+was her wont.
+
+"Me and you's yunnin' away," she chatted; "we's goin' to a fowest, and by
+and by two 'ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves.  My!  Won't my mamma
+be sorry?  No darlin' 'ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more.  Poor Mamma!"
+
+"Does Ethel think Mamma likes to spank her?"
+
+"Yes; Mamma does des what she likes."
+
+"But it is only when Ethel is naughty that Mamma spanks her.  Here,
+sweetheart, let me tie your sunbonnet tighter.  Now Ruth is going to lie
+here and read, and you can play hide-and-seek all about these trees."
+
+"Can I go wound and sit on dat log by a bwook?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, I's afwaid.  I's dweffully afwaid."
+
+"Why, you can turn round and talk to me all the time."
+
+"But nobody'll be sitting by me at all."
+
+"I am here just where you can see me; besides, God will be right next to
+you."
+
+"Will He?  Ven all yight."
+
+Ruth took off her hat and prepared to enjoy herself.  As her head touched
+the green earth, she saw the little maiden seat herself on the log, and
+turning her face sideways, say in her pleasant, piping voice, --
+
+"How-de-do, Dod?"  And having made her acknowledgments, all her fears
+vanished.
+
+Ruth laughed softly to herself, and straightway began to read.  The
+afternoon burned itself away.  Ethel played and sang and danced about her,
+quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herself into Ruth's
+arms.
+
+"Sing by-low now," she demanded sleepily; "pay it's night, and you and me's
+in a yockin'-chair goin' to by-low land."
+
+Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head to her
+bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, golden locks.
+
+"What shall I sing, darling?" she mused: she was unused to singing babies
+to sleep.  Suddenly a little kindergarten melody she had heard came to her,
+and she sang softly in her rich, tender contralto the swinging cradle-song:
+--
+
+                "In a cradle, on the treetop,
+                        Sleeps a tiny bird;
+                Sweeter sound than mother's chirping
+                        Never yet was heard.
+                See, the green leaves spread like curtains
+                        Round the tiny bed,
+                While the mother's wings, outstretching,
+                        Shield--the--tiny--head?"
+
+As her voice died slowly into silence, she found Ethel looking over her
+shoulder and nodding her head.
+
+"No; I won't tell," she said loudly.
+
+"Tell what?" asked Ruth, amused.
+
+"Hush!  He put his finger on his mouf -- sh!"
+
+"Who?" asked Ruth, turning her head hurriedly.  Not being able to see
+through the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child.
+Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp, --Dr. Kemp in
+loose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of his head
+was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned, --a wave of
+color springing to his cheek with the action.  As for Ruth, --a woman's
+face dare not speak sometimes.
+
+"Did I startle you?" he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the
+golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
+
+"Yes," she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into
+silence.
+
+She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till
+she stood at her side.
+
+"I interrupted you," he continued; "will you shake hands with me,
+nevertheless?"
+
+She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and
+then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child.  In that
+moment she had time to compose herself.
+
+"Do you often come up this way?" she questioned.
+
+He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm against
+the tree, answered, --
+
+"Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and
+generally find myself in this part of the country.  This is one of my
+select spots.  I knew you would ferret it out."
+
+"It is very lovely here.  But we are going home now; the afternoon is
+growing old.  Come, Ethel."
+
+A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him.
+Why should she hurry off at his coming?
+
+"I am sorry my presence disturbs you," he said quietly; "But I can easily
+go away again."
+
+"Was I so rude?" she asked, looking up with a sudden smile.  "I did not
+mean it so; but Ethel's mother will want her now."
+
+"Ethel wants to be carried," begged the child.
+
+"All right; Ruth will carry you," and she stooped to raise her; but as she
+did so, Kemp's strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
+
+"Ethel will ride home on my shoulder," he said in the gay, winning voice he
+knew how so well to use with children.  The baby's blue eyes smiled in
+response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder.  There is
+nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little child
+reposes in a strong man. 
+
+So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
+
+
+Chapter XV
+
+Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching.  For
+a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire.  When he
+did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude, took possession
+of him.  He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth's birthnight by a vague
+something in Kemp's eyes.  The feeling, however, had vanished gradually in
+the knowledge that the doctor always had a peculiarly intent gaze, and,
+moreover, no one could have helped appreciating her loveliness that night.
+This, of itself, will bring a softness into a man's manner; and without
+doubt his fears had been groundless, --fears that he had not dared to put
+into words.  For old man as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp's strong
+personality was such as would prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom
+he cared to honor with his favor; but with a "Get thee behind me, Satan"
+desire, he had put the question from him.  He could have taken his oath on
+Ruth's heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his
+misgivings returned threefold.  The courteous gentleman, however, was at
+his ease as they came up.
+
+"This is a surprise, Doctor," he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate and
+extending his hand.  "Who would have thought of meeting you here?"  
+
+Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
+
+"I am a sort of surprise-party," he answered, swinging Ethel to the ground
+and watching her scamper off to the hotel; "and what is more," he
+continued, turning to him, "I have not brought a hamper, which makes one of
+me."
+
+"You calculate without your host," responded Levice; "this is a veritable
+land of milk and honey.  Come up and listen to my wife rhapsodize."
+
+"How is she?" he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of Ruth's
+vanishing figure.
+
+"Feeling quite well," replied Levice; "she is all impatience now for a
+delirious winter season."
+
+"I thought so," laughed the doctor; "but if you take my advice, you will
+draw the bit slightly."
+
+Mrs. Levice was delighted to see him; she said it was like the sight of a
+cable-car in a desert.  He protested at such a stupendous comparison, and
+insisted that she make clear that the dummy was not included.  The short
+afternoon glided into evening, and Dr. Kemp went over to the hotel and
+dined at the Levices' table.
+
+Ruth, in a white wool gown, sat opposite him.  It was the first time he had
+dined with them; and he enjoyed a singular feeling over the situation.  He
+noticed that although Mrs. Levice kept up an almost incessant flow of talk,
+she ate a hearty meal, and that Ruth, who was unusually quiet, tasted
+scarcely anything.  Her father also observed it, and resolved upon a course
+of strict surveillance.  He was glad to hear that the doctor had to leave
+on the early morning's train, though, of course, he did not say so.  As
+they strolled about afterward, he managed to keep his daughter with him and
+allowed Kemp to appropriate his wife.
+
+They finally drifted to the cottage-steps, and were enjoying the beauty of
+the night when Will Tyrrell presented himself before them.
+
+"Good-evening," he said, taking off his hat as he stood at the foot of the
+steps.  "Mr. Levice, Father says he has at last scared up two other
+gentlemen; and will you please come over and play a rubber of whist?"
+
+Mr. Levice felt himself a victim of circumstances.  He and Mr. Tyrrell had
+been looking for a couple of opponents, and had almost given up the search.
+Now, when he decidedly objected to moving, it would have been heartless not
+to go.
+
+"Don't consider me," said the doctor, observing his hesitancy.  "If it ill
+relieve you, I assure you I shall not miss you in the least."
+
+"Go right ahead, Jules" urged his wife; "Ruth and I will take care of the
+doctor."
+
+If she had promised to take care of Ruth, it would have been more to his
+mind; but since his wife was there, what harm could accrue that his
+presence would prevent?  So with a sincere apology he went over to the
+hotel.
+
+He hardly appreciated what an admirable aide he had left behind him in his
+wife.
+
+Kemp sat upon the top step, and leaned his back against the railing;
+although outwardly he kept up a constant low run of conversation with Mrs.
+Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intently conscious of
+Ruth's white figure perched on the window-sill.
+
+How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but she
+was rather startled when she perceived that Kemp was addressing her.
+
+"I should like to show my prowess to you, Miss Levice."
+
+"In what?" she asked, somewhat dazed.
+
+"Ruth, Ruth," laughed her mother, "do you mean to say you have not heard a
+word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?"
+
+"And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered a fine
+oar at my Alma Mater."
+
+"And I hazarded the suggestion," added Mrs. Levice, "that as it is such a
+beautiful night, there is nothing to prevent your taking a little row, and
+then each can judge of the other's claim to superiority?"
+
+"My claim has never been justly established," said Ruth.  "I have never
+allowed any one to usurp my oars."
+
+"As yet," corrected Kemp.  "Then will you wrap something about you and come
+down to the river?"
+
+"Certainly she will," answered her mother; "run in and get some wraps,
+Ruth."
+
+"You will come too, Mamma?"
+
+"Of course; but considering Dr. Kemp's length, a third in your little boat
+will be the proverbial trumpery.  Still, I suppose I can rely on you two
+crack oarsmen, though you know the slightest tremble in the boat in the
+fairest weather is likely to create a squall on my part."
+
+If Dr. Kemp wished to row, he should row; and since the Jewish Mrs. Grundy
+was not on hand, anything harmlessly enjoyable was permissible.
+
+Ruth went indoors.  This was certainly something she had not bargained for.
+How could her mother be so blind as not to know or feel her desire to evade
+Dr. Kemp?  She felt a positive contempt for herself that his presence
+should affect her as it did; she dared not look at him lest her heart
+should flutter to her eyes.  Probably the display amused him.  What was she
+to him anyway but a girl with whom he could flirt in his idle moments?
+Well (with a passionate fling of her arms), she would extinguish her
+uncontrollable little beater for the nonce; she would meet and answer every
+one of his long glances in kind.
+
+She wound a black lace shawl around her head, and with some wraps for her
+mother, came out.
+
+"Hadn't you better put something over your shoulders?" he asked
+deferentially as she appeared.
+
+"And disgust the night with lack of appreciation?"
+
+She turned to a corner of the porch and lifted a pair of oars to her
+shoulder.
+
+"Why," he said in surprise, coming toward her, "you keep your oars at
+home?"
+
+"On the principle of 'neither a borrower nor a lender be;' we find it saves
+both time and spleen."
+
+She held them lightly in place on her shoulder.
+
+"Allow me," he said, placing his hand upon the oars.
+
+A spirit of contradiction took possession of her.
+
+"Indeed, no," she answered; "why should I?  They are not at all heavy."
+
+He gently lifted her resisting fingers one by one and raised the broad bone
+of contention to his shoulder.  Then without a look he turned and offered
+his arm to Mrs. Levice."
+
+The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashed before
+them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty of the
+bewildering heavens.  As they approached the river, the faint susurra came
+to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing in the
+distance.
+
+"Others are enjoying themselves also," he remarked as their feet touched
+the pebbly beach.  A faint crescent moon shone over the water.  Ruth went
+straight to the little boat aground on the shore.
+
+"It looks like a cockle-shell," he said, as he put one foot in after
+shoving it off.  "Will you sit in the stern or the bow, Mrs. Levice?"
+
+"In the bow; I dislike to see dangers before we come to them."
+
+He helped her carefully to her place; she thanked him laughingly for his
+exceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth.
+
+"I was waiting for you to move from my place," she said in defiant
+mischief, standing motionless beside the boat.
+
+"Your place?  Ah, yes; now," he said, holding out his hand to her, "will
+you step in?"
+
+She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as the
+little bark swayed he made a movement to catch hold of her.
+
+"You had better sit down," he said, motioning to the rower's seat.
+
+"And you?" she asked.
+
+"I shall sit beside you and use the other oar," he answered nonchalantly,
+smiling down at her.
+
+With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the
+stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.
+
+"You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice," he said
+pleasantly.
+
+"That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not
+very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored if I
+wax too discursive."
+
+It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp's knees were not half a foot from
+Ruth's white gown.
+
+"Will you direct me?" he said, as he swept around.  "I have not rowed on
+this river for two or three years."
+
+"You can keep straight ahead for some distance," she said, leaning back in
+her seat.
+
+She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowed
+lightly down the river.  His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed his
+strong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, and his
+dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with grave
+sweetness.  She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from the
+short range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded her
+good vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze.
+
+Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdo the night
+in brilliancy.  For a while Kemp maintained a sort of Roland-for-an-Oliver
+conversation with her; but with his eyes continually straying to the girl
+before him, it became rather difficult.  Some merry rowers down the river
+were singing college songs harmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum
+with them, her voice gradually subsiding into a faint murmur.  The balmy,
+summer-freighted air made her feel drowsy.  She listened absently to Ruth's
+occasional warnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars.
+
+"Now we have clear sailing for a stretch," said Ruth, as they came to a
+broad curve.  "Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shot
+over that snag, Mamma?"
+
+She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp.
+
+"Mamma!"
+
+Then she straightened herself back in her seat.  Kemp, noting the sudden
+flush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look at Mrs.
+Levice.  Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes were closed,
+in the manner of more wary chaperones, --Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.
+
+Far across the river a woman's silvery voice was singing the sweet old
+love-song, "Juanita;" overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low from the
+floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender night,
+and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy part of it.
+Against the black lace about her head her face shone like a cameo, her eyes
+were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to breathe, so still she
+sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.
+
+Dr. Kemp sat opposite her--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched the
+water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks, --they were
+unconsciously drifting.  The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
+tender woman's voice across the water stole to them, singing of love; their
+eyes met--and Mrs. Levice slept.
+
+Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again rocking
+in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man's deep, grave eyes
+held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his worshipping
+eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.
+
+"Doctor," called a startled voice, "row out; I am right under the trees."
+
+They both started.  Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake.  They had
+drifted into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs.
+
+"I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?" she
+complained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh.  "Did not
+you see where we were going?"
+
+"No," she answered a little breathlessly; "I believe I am growing
+far-sighted."
+
+"It must be time to sight home now," said her mother; "I am quite chilly."
+
+In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
+When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started up
+the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of the
+boat.
+
+"Wait for us, Ruth," called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure stood
+still till they came up.
+
+"You are so slow," she said with a reckless little laugh; "I feel as if I
+could fly home."
+
+"Are you light-headed, Ruth?" asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
+behind them.  She could not yet meet his eyes again.
+
+"Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us."  Mrs. Levice, awake,
+was an exemplary duenna.
+
+"There is nothing abroad here but the stars," she answered, flitting before
+them.
+
+"And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night," remarked Kemp,
+softly.
+
+She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood inside of it as
+they drew near.
+
+"Then you will not be home till Monday," he said, taking Mrs. Levice's hand
+and raising his hat; "and I am off on the early morning train.  Good-by."
+
+As she turned in at the gate, he held out his hand to Ruth.  His fingers
+closed softly, tightly over hers; she heard him say almost inaudibly, --
+
+"Till Monday."
+
+She raised her shy eyes for one brief second to his glowing ones; and he
+passed, a tall, dark figure, down the shadowy road.
+
+When Mr. Levice returned from his game of whist, he quietly opened the door
+of his daughter's bedroom and looked in.  All was well; the wolf had
+departed, and his lamb slept safe in the fold.
+
+But in the dark his lamb's eyes were mysteriously bright.  Sleep!  With
+this new crown upon her!  Humble as the beautiful beggar-maid must have
+felt when the king raised her, she wondered why she had been thus chosen by
+one whom she had deemed so immeasurably above her.  And this is another
+phase of woman's love, --that it exalts the beloved beyond all reasoning.
+
+
+Chapter XVI
+
+At six o'clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greens
+were gently warming under the sun's first rays.  At seven the early train
+that Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave.  Ruth, with this knowledge at
+heart, had softly risen and left the cottage.  Close behind the depot rose
+a wooded hill.  She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; and what
+was to prevent her doing so now?  It afforded an excellent view of the
+station.
+
+It was very little past six, and she began leisurely to ascend the hill.
+The sweet morning air was in her nostrils, and she pushed the broad hat
+form her happy eyes.  She paused a moment, looking up at the wooded
+hill-top, which the sun was jewelling in silver.
+
+"Do you see something beautiful up there?"
+
+With an inarticulate cry she wheeled around and faced Dr. Kemp within a
+hand's breadth of her.
+
+"Oh," she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, "I did not mean--I did
+not expect--"
+
+"Nor did I," he said in a low voice; "chance is kinder to us than
+ourselves--beloved."
+
+She turned quite white at the low, intense word.
+
+"You understood me last night--and I was not--deceived?"
+
+Her head drooped lower till the broad brim of her hat hid her face.
+
+With one quick step he reached her side.
+
+"Ruth, look at me."
+
+She never had been able to resist his compelling voice; and now with a
+swift-drawn breath she threw back her head and looked up at him fairly,
+with all her soul in her eyes.
+
+"Are you satisfied?" she asked tremulously.
+
+"Not yet," he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.
+
+"My Santa Filomena," he murmured with his lips against her hair, "this is
+worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long."
+
+In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared meet
+his eyes when he finally held her from him.
+
+"Why, you are not afraid to look at me?  No one knows you better than I,
+dear; you can trust me, I think."
+
+"I know," she said, her hand fluttering in his; "but isn't--the train
+coming?"
+
+"Are you so anxious to have me go?"
+
+Her hand closed tightly around his.
+
+"Because," laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I have something
+to ask you."
+
+"To ask me?"
+
+"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess?  Ruth, will you bless me still
+further?  Will you be my wife, love?"
+
+A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
+tenderness.  "If you really want me," she replied, with a sobbing laugh.
+
+"Soon?" he persisted.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because you must.  You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth."
+
+"I am not afraid of you, sir."
+
+"Then you should be.  Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five;
+did you remember that when you made me king among men?"
+
+"Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two."
+
+"As ancient as that?  Then you should be able to answer me.  Make it soon,
+sweetheart."
+
+"Why, how you beg--for a king.  Besides, there is Father, you know; he
+decides everything for me."
+
+"I know; and I have already asked him on paper.  There is a note awaiting
+him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last night,
+and_ Ah, the whistle!  What day is this, Ruth?"
+
+"Friday."
+
+"Good Friday, sweet, I think."
+
+"Oh, I am not at all superstitious."
+
+"And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
+Monday will be four days rolled into one."
+
+"Remember," he continued hurriedly, "you are doubly precious now, darling,
+and take good care of yourself till our 'Auf Wiedersehn.'"
+
+"And--and--you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?"
+
+"Who?  There is no doctor here that I know of."
+
+"But I know one--Herbert."
+
+"God bless you for that, dear!" he answered gravely.
+
+Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the
+out-going train with benignant satisfaction.  It was taking Dr. Kemp where
+he belonged, --to his busy practice, --and leaving his child's peace
+undisturbed.  Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed him to
+drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite and happy
+talk?  No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shown in her;
+but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resort to flirtation,
+and anything deeper was out of the question.  He must certainly have a
+little plain talk with the child this morning, and, well, he could cry
+"Ebenezer!" on his departure.  With this conclusion, he softly rose, taking
+care not to disturb his placidly sleeping wife, who never dreamed of waking
+till nine.
+
+Ruth generally waited for him for breakfast, but not seeing her around, he
+went in and took a solitary meal.  Sauntering out afterward toward the
+hotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting a
+cigar, he was met at the door of the billiard-room by one of the clerks.
+
+"Dr. Kemp left this for you this morning," said he, holding out a small
+envelope.  A flush rose to the old gentleman's sallow cheek as he took it.
+
+"Thank you," he said; "I believe I shall come in here for a few minutes."
+
+He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chair
+near the window.  He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightly
+nervous manner, and adjusted them hastily.  The missive was addressed to
+him, certainly; and with no little wonder he tore it open and read:--
+
+ BEACHAM'S Friday morning.
+
+MR. LEVICE:
+
+MY DEAR SIR,--Pardon the hurried nature of this communication, but I must
+leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operation to
+undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare you more
+fully, but time presses.  Simply, then, I love your daughter.  I told her
+so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest and happiest
+of men by returning my love.  I am well aware what I am asking of you when
+I ask her of you to be my wife.  You know me personally; you know my
+financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings with mercy in
+the knowledge of our great love.  Till Monday night, then, I leave her and
+my happiness to your consideration and love.
+
+                        With the greatest respect,
+                                Yours Sincerely,
+                                                HERBERT KEMP.
+
+"My God!"
+
+The clerk standing near him in the doorway turned hurriedly.
+
+"Any trouble?" he asked, moving toward him and noticing the ashy pallor of
+his face.
+
+The old man's hand closed spasmodically over the paper.
+
+"Nothing," he managed to answer, waving the man away; "don't notice me."
+
+The clerk, seeing his presence was undesirable, took up his position in the
+doorway again.
+
+Levice sat on.  No further sound broke from him; he had clinched his teeth
+hard.  It had come to this, then.  She loved him; it was too late.  If the
+man's heart alone were concerned, it would have been an easy matter; but
+hers, Ruth's.  God!  If she really loved, her father knew only too well how
+she would love.  Was the man crazy?  Had he entirely forgotten the gulf
+that lay between them?  Great drops of perspiration rose to his forehead.
+Two ideas held him in a desperate struggle, --his child's happiness; the
+prejudice of a lifetime.  Something conquered finally, and he arose quietly
+and walked slowly off.
+
+Through the trees he heard laughter.  He walked round and saw her swinging
+Will Tyrrell.
+
+"There's your father," cried Boss, from the limb of a tree.
+
+She looked up, startled.  With a newborn shyness she had endeavored to put
+off this meeting with her father.  She gave the swing another push and
+waited his approach with beating heart.
+
+"The boys will excuse you, Ruth, I think; I wish you to come for a short
+walk with me."
+
+At his voice, the gentle seriousness of which penetrated even to the
+Tyrrell boys' understanding, she felt that her secret was known.
+
+She laid her arm about his neck and gave him his usual morning kiss,
+reddening slowly under his long searching look as he held her to him.  She
+followed him almost blindly as he turned from the grounds and struck into
+the lane leading to the woods.  Mr. Levice walked along, aimlessly knocking
+off with his stick the dandelions and camomile in the hedges.  It was with
+a wrench he spoke.
+
+"My child," he said, and now the stick acted as a support, "I was just
+handed a note from Dr. Kemp.  He has asked me for your hand."
+
+In the pause that followed Ruth's lovely face was hidden in her hat.
+
+"He also told me that he loves you," he continued slowly, "and that you
+return his love.  Will you turn your face to me, Ruth?"
+
+She did so with dignity.
+
+"You love this man?"
+
+"I do."  As reverently as if at the altar, she faced and answered her
+father.  All her love was in the eyes she raised to his.  Beneath their
+happy glow Levice's sank and his steady lips grew pale.
+
+They were away from mankind in the shelter of the woods, the birds gayly
+carolling their matins above them.
+
+"And you desire to become his wife?"
+
+Neck, face, and ears were suffused with color as she faltered unsteadily,
+--
+
+"Oh, Father, he loves me."  Then at the wonder of it, she exclaimed,
+throwing her arms about his neck impulsively and hiding her face in his
+shoulder, "I am so happy, so happy! It seems almost too beautiful to be
+true."
+
+The old man's trembling hand smoothed the soft little tendrils of hair that
+had escaped from their pins.  He stifled a groan as he was thus disarmed.
+
+"And what," she asked, her sweet eyes holding his as she stepped back,
+"what do you think of Herbert Kemp, M. D.?  Will you be proud of your
+son-in-law, Father darling?"
+
+Levice's hand fell suddenly on her shoulder.  He schooled himself to smile
+quietly upon her.
+
+"Dr. Kemp is a great friend of mine.  He is a gentleman whom all the world
+honors, not only for his professional worth, but for his manly qualities.
+I am not surprised that you love him, nor yet that he loves you--except for
+one thing."
+
+"And that?" she asked, smiling confidently at him.
+
+"Child, you are a Jewess; Dr. Kemp is a Christian."
+
+And still his daughter smiled trustingly.
+
+"What difference can that make, since we love each other?" she asked.
+
+"Will you believe me, Ruth, when I say that all I desire is your
+happiness?"
+
+"Father, I know it."
+
+"Then I tell you I can never bring myself to approve of a marriage between
+you and a Christian.  There can be no true happiness in such a union."
+
+"Why not?  Inasmuch as all my life you have taught me to look upon my
+Christian friends as upon my Jewish, and since you admit him irreproachable
+from every standpoint, why can he not be my husband?"
+
+"Have you ever thought of what such a marriage entails?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Then do so now: think of every sacrifice, social and religious, it
+enforces; think of the great difference between the Jewish race and the
+Christians; and if, after you have measured with the deadliest earnestness
+every duty that married life brings, you can still believe that you will be
+happy, then marry him."
+
+"With your blessing?"  Her lovely, pleading eyes still held his.
+
+"Always with my blessing, child.  One thing more: did Dr. Kemp mention
+anything of this to you?"
+
+"No; he must have forgotten it as I did, or rather, if I ever thought of
+it, it was a mere passing shadow.  I put it aside with the thought that
+though you and I had never discussed such a circumstance, judging by all
+your other actions in our relations with Christians, you would be above
+considering such a thing a serious obstacle to two people's happiness."
+
+"You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down to detail,
+and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas.  However, I shall remind
+Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then--you will not object to
+this?"
+
+"Oh, no; but I know--I know--" What did she know except of the greatness of
+his love that would annihilate all her father's forebodings?
+
+"Yes," her father answered the half-spoken thought; "I know too.  But
+ponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night,
+when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase of
+this terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say."
+
+Love is so selfish.  Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she had never
+failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and the sad eyes
+of her father.
+
+"Your mother will soon be awake," he said; "had you not better go back?"
+
+Something that she had expected was wanting in this meeting; she looked at
+him reproachfully, her mouth visibly trembling.
+
+"What is it?" he asked gently.
+
+"Why, Father, you are so cold and hard, and you have not even--"
+
+"Wait till Monday night, Ruth.  Then I will do anything you ask me.  Now go
+back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet.  I
+shall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something to
+think of."
+
+That afternoon Dr. Kemp received the following brief note: --
+
+ BEACHAM'S, August 25, 188--..
+
+DR. KEMP:
+
+DEAR SIR,-
+
+Have you forgotten that my daughter is a Jewess; that you are a Christian?
+Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider this question from every
+possible point of view.  If then both you and my daughter can
+satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedly have, I shall
+raise no obstacle to your desires.
+                        Sincerely your friend,
+                                                JULES LEVICE.
+
+In the mean time Ruth was thinking it all out.  Love was blinding her,
+dazzling her; and the giants that rose before her were dwarfed into
+pygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only in smiling
+at their feebleness.  Love was an Armada, and bore down upon the little
+armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms.
+
+Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as little Rose
+Delano stood in Ruth's room looking up into her friend's face, the dreamy,
+starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples about the corners
+of her mouth, the whole air of a mysterious something, baffled and
+bewildered her.
+
+Upon Ruth's writing-table rested a basket of delicate Marechal Niel buds,
+almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was not unknown.
+
+"It has agreed well with you, Miss Levice," said Rose, in her gentle,
+patient voice, that seemed so out of keeping with her young face.  "You
+look as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir."
+
+"So I have," laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; "it has
+made a 'nut-brown mayde' of me, I think, Rosebud.  But tell me the city
+news.  Everything in running order?  Tell me."
+
+"Everything is as your kind help has willed it.  I have a pleasant little
+room with a middle-aged couple on Post Street.  Altogether I earn ten
+dollars over my actual monthly expenses.  Oh, Miss Levice, when shall I be
+able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?"
+
+"Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that is why
+I am so happy."
+
+"You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes.  Yet the
+first time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have a
+history."
+
+"Sad?"  The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.
+
+She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice
+sounded.  The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.
+
+"I am no sorceress," she answered evasively but lightly; "look in the glass
+and see."
+
+"You remind me of Floy Tyrrell.  Pooh!  Let us talk of something else.
+Then it can't be Wednesdays?"
+
+"It can be any day.  The Page children can have Friday."
+
+"Do you know how Mr. Page is?"
+
+"Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed Friday?"
+
+"No."  She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of
+blood that overspread her face.  If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had had
+one lesson.
+
+"I did not know such a thing was in his line.  I had been giving Miss Dora
+a lesson in the nursery.  The old nurse had brought the two little ones in
+there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out.  One of the
+doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and
+dangerous operation.  When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was
+passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms.
+He was quite pale.  He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to
+pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my hand so very friendly.  And
+now I hear it was a great success.  Oh, Miss Levice, he has no parallel but
+himself!"
+
+It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of.  It was
+only very sweet and true.
+
+"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that
+was why I went to him.  I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his
+strong, kind face was my only stimulus.  But there, you must forgive me if
+I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
+
+"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely.  And the same expression
+rested upon her face till evening.
+
+
+Chapter XVII
+
+Monday night had come.  As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy,
+low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen.  This was
+partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice.  If
+he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in
+the look of repression that had followed.  In the afternoon he had spoken a
+few disturbing words to her:
+
+"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain
+project and desires your presence.  She intends to retire rather early, and
+there is nothing to prevent your receiving him."
+
+At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes.  He was
+regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
+
+"Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" she
+questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
+
+"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm reasoning
+powers to be brought with you.  You have not forgotten what I told you to
+consider, Ruth?"
+
+"No, Father."
+
+She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in childhood,
+when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn this same sad
+and distant look.  He had never punished her nominally; the pain he himself
+showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand never could have
+done.
+
+She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown, that
+fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color was upon
+her.
+
+A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted
+drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
+
+When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him immediately.
+
+She stood quite still as he came toward her.  He certainly had some
+old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of all
+to raise her hand to his lips.  The curious, well-known flush rose slowly
+to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her swiftly to him,
+a sobbing sigh escaped her.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him.  "Are you
+tired of me already, love?"
+
+"Not of you; of waiting," she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
+
+"I hardly expected this," he said after a pause; "has your father flown
+bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?"
+
+"Not exactly.  But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while, was
+it not?" she asked simply.
+
+"It was unusually kind.  I suppose, however, you will have to make your
+exit on his entrance."
+
+"No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the r"le of the audience
+to-night.  He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"
+
+He looked at her curiously.  The earnestness with which she had greeted him
+settled like a mask upon his face.  The hand that held hers drew it quickly
+to his breast.
+
+"I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at any
+rate on the main point, --that we love each other.  Always that, darling?"
+
+"Always that--love."
+
+The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilled him
+oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth moved like a
+bird to a chair.  He could not know that the sound of the step had given
+her the momentary courage thus to address him.
+
+He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered.  The two men formed a
+striking contrast.  Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;
+Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silvery
+hair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, served as
+a foil to the other's bright, handsome figure.
+
+Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand.  Nothing is more
+thoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men.  It is a
+freemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby.  The kiss is a sign
+of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise.  Levice's
+hand closed tightly about the doctor's large one; there was a great feeling
+of mutual respect between these two.
+
+"How are you and your wife?" asked the doctor, seating himself in a low,
+silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.
+
+"She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed.  She wished to
+be remembered to you."  As he spoke, he half turned his head to where Ruth
+sat in a corner, a little removed.
+
+"Why do you sit back there, Ruth?"
+
+She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up the curious
+ivory-topped chair.  Thus seated, they formed the figure of an isosceles
+triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles of the base.  It is
+a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking each point an alien from
+the others.
+
+There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seated
+herself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from the sconce
+behind fell upon her father's head, each silvery hair seemed to speak of
+quiet old age.
+
+Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.
+
+"Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bush the
+thought that is uppermost in all our minds.  I ask you now, in person, what
+I asked you in writing last Friday, --will you give me your daughter to be
+my wife?"
+
+"I will answer you as I did in writing.  Have you considered that you are a
+Christian; that she is a Jewess?"
+
+"I have."
+
+It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.
+
+"And you, my child?" he addressed her in the old sweet way that she had
+missed in the afternoon.
+
+"I have also done so to the best of my ability."
+
+"Then you have found it raised no barrier to your desire to become Dr.
+Kemp's wife?"
+
+"None."
+
+The two men drew a deep breath at the sound of the little decisive word,
+but with a difference .  Kemp's face shone exultantly.  Levice pressed his
+lips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veined
+hands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quite
+peaceful.
+
+"It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by their children
+upon their choice of husband or wife.  In France the parents are consulted
+before the daughter; it is not a bad plan.  It often saves some unnecessary
+pangs--for the daughter.  I am sorry in this case that we are not living in
+France."
+
+"Then you object?" Kemp almost hurled the words at him.
+
+"I crave your patience," answered the old man, slowly; "I have grown
+accustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in this
+instance.  But as you have put the question, I may answer you now.  I do
+most solemnly and seriously object."
+
+Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly.  The doctor
+also changed color.
+
+"My child," Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, "by allowing
+you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with my apparent
+sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done you a great
+wrong; I admit it with anguish.  I ask your forgiveness."
+
+"Don't, Father!"
+
+Dr. Kemp's clinched hand came down with force upon his knee.  He was white
+to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strong decisiveness rang
+unmistakably in every word.
+
+"Mr. Levice, I trust I am not speaking disrespectfully," he began, his
+manly voice plainly agitated, "but I must say that it was a great oversight
+on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as she is, into
+Christian society, --put her right in the way of loving or being loved by
+any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairs could lead to
+nothing.  It was not only wrong, but, holding such views, it was cruel."
+
+"I acknowledge my culpability; my only excuse lies in the fact that such an
+event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination.  If it
+had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscience and
+bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to think seriously
+upon such an issue."
+
+"But, sir, I do not understand your exception; you are not orthodox."
+
+"No; but I am intensely Jewish," answered the old man, proudly regarding
+his antagonist.  "I tell you I object to this marriage; that is not saying
+I oppose it.  There are certain things connected with it of which neither
+you nor my daughter have probably thought.  To me they are all-powerful
+obstacles to your happiness.  Being an old man and more experienced, will
+you permit me to suggest these points?  My friend, I am seeking nothing but
+my child's happiness; if, by opening the eyes of both of you to what
+menaces her future welfare, I can avert what promises but a sometime
+misery, I must do it, late though it may be.  If, when I have stated my
+view, you can convince me that I am wrong, I shall be persuaded and admit
+it.  Will you accept my plan?"
+
+Kemp bowed his head.  The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyes
+deepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice.
+Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote and
+shadowy.
+
+"As you say," began Levice, "we are not orthodox; but before we become
+orthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested with
+certain hereditary traits that are unconvertible.  Every Jew bears in his
+blood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel.  The
+farther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance.  In
+most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we have been set
+upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginning to smile,
+--that is, some of us.  Those whose fathers were helped on are nearer the
+man as he should be than those whose fathers are still grovelling.  My
+child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture and refinement can
+give.  She is not an exception; there are thousands like her among our
+Jewish girls.  Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew from his coarser
+surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and he will stand forth
+the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mix forever with pitch
+and remain undefiled."
+
+"No man could," observed Kemp, as Levice paused.  "But what are these
+things to me?"
+
+"Nothing; but to Ruth, much.  That is part of the bar-sinister between you.
+Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in my family; but
+there are many families, people we visit and love, who, though possessing
+all the substrata of goodness, have never been moved to cast off the
+surface thorns that would prick your good taste as sharply as any physical
+pain.  This, of course, is not because they are Jews, but because they lack
+refining influences in their surroundings.  We look for and excuse these
+signs; many Christians take them as the inevitable marks of the race, and
+without looking further, conclude that a cultured Jew is an impossibility."
+
+"Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you who number so
+many of them among your friends should not make such sweeping assertions.
+The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader."
+
+"True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom my
+child would be, without doubt, ostracized.  This only by your people; by
+ours it would be worse, --for she will have raised a terrible barrier by
+renouncing her religion."
+
+"I shall never renounce my religion, Father."
+
+"Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would be cut
+adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where they
+rightfully belong to where they are not wanted."
+
+"Sir," interrupted Kemp, "allow me to show you wherein such a state of
+affairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence.  The friends we
+care for and who care for us will not drop off if we remain unchanged.
+Because I love your daughter and she loves me, and because we both desire
+our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein have we erred?
+We shall still remain the same man and woman."
+
+"Unhappily the world would not think so."
+
+"Then let them hold to their bigoted opinion; it is valueless, and having
+each other, we can dispense with them."
+
+"You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would be
+impossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up of more
+than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched.  The knowledge
+that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter."
+
+"But such knowledge," interrupted Ruth's sweet voice, "would be robbed of
+all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love."
+
+Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly to his.
+
+"Very well," he responded; "count the world as nothing.  You have just
+said, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion.  How could that
+be when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?"
+
+"I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any man who
+would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into his life.  As
+for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one.  My God is fixed and
+unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinity would be to
+deny his omnipotence.  As to forms, you, Father, have bred in me a contempt
+for all but a few.  Saturday will always be my Sabbath, no matter what
+convention would make me do.  We have decided that writing or sewing or
+pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on that day than on
+another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander is more so.  But on
+that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is the force of custom.
+Any day would do as well if we were used to it, --for who can tell which
+was the first and which the seventh counting from creation?  On our New
+Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of time had passed; but I live
+only according to one record of time, and my New Year falls always on the
+1st of January.  Atonement is a sacred day to me; I could not desecrate it.
+Our services are magnificently beautiful, and I should feel like a culprit
+if debarred from their holiness.  As to fasting, you and I have agreed that
+any physical punishment that keeps our thoughts one moment from God, and
+puts them on the feast that is to come, is mere sham and pretence.  After
+these, Father, wherein does our religion show itself?"
+
+"Surely," he replied with some bitterness, "we hold few Jewish rites.
+Well, and so you think you can keep these up?  And you, Dr. Kemp?"
+
+Dr. Kemp had been listening attentively while Ruth spoke.  His eyes kindled
+brightly as he answered, --
+
+"Why should she not?  If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, body
+and soul, as she is to me, what is to prevent her from so continuing?  And
+if my wife would permit me to go with her upon her holidays to your
+beautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I.  Loving her,
+what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me."
+
+Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich their
+lives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them that made
+every shot of his harmless.
+
+"I can understand," he ventured, "that no gentleman with self-respect
+would, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person's religion.  You,
+Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that has withstood
+everything and has never yet been sneered at, however its followers have
+been persecuted.  Many of its minor forms are slowly dying out and will
+soon be remembered only historically; this history belongs to every one."
+
+"Certainly.  Let us, however, stick to the point in question.  You are a
+man who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off most of its
+unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my--for your daughter.
+This distinguishes you.  If I were to say the characteristic has never been
+unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needs no excuse.  Now,
+sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; more formally, a
+Unitarian.  Our faiths are not widely divergent.  We are both liberal;
+otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment.  As to forms,
+for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity, --a sort of
+moral backbone without which they might fall.  Sunday is to me a day of
+rest if my patients do not need me.  I enjoy hearing a good sermon by any
+noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that, but for the
+pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentle stirring up.
+There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that is Christmas."
+
+"And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking for sympathy
+for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own home the wife
+whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watches your feelings
+with no answering sympathy?  Will this not breed dissension, if not in
+words, at least in spirit?  Will you not feel the want and resent it?"
+
+Dr. Kemp was silent.  The question was a telling one and required thought;
+therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him.  Her quiet voice
+carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of grave grace.
+
+She addressed her father; each had refrained from appealing to the other.
+The situation in the light of their new, great love was strained and
+unnatural.
+
+"I should endeavor that he should feel no lack," she said; "for so far as
+Christmas is concerned, I am a Christian also."
+
+"I do not understand."  Her father's lips were dry, his voice husky.
+
+"Ever since I have been able to judge," explained the girl, quietly,
+"Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that ever
+lived.  You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life."
+
+"Yes?" His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her to
+continue.
+
+"And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great and good.
+Later, when I had read his 'Sermon on the Mount,' I grew to see that what
+he preached was beautiful.  It did not change my religion; it made me no
+less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness.  To me he
+became the embodiment of Love in the highest, --Love perfect, but warm and
+human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinity to augment its
+power over us.  He was God's attestation, God's symbol of what Man might
+be.  As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime.  So I may call myself a
+christian, though I spell it with a small letter.  It is right that such a
+man's birthday should be remembered with love; it shows what a sweet power
+his name is, when, as that time approaches, everybody seems to love
+everybody better.  Feeling so, would it be wrong for me to participate in
+my husband's actions on that day?"
+
+She received no answer.  She looked only at her father with loving
+earnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quite lost.
+
+"Would this be wrong, Father?" she urged.
+
+He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load.  His dark, sallow
+face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.
+
+"I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion," he responded;
+"I have sought to make you so.  I never thought you could leap thus far.
+It were better had I left you to your mother.  Wrong?  No; you would be but
+giving your real feelings expression.  But such an expression would
+grieve--Pardon; I am to consider your happiness."  He seemed to swallow
+something, and hastily continued: "While we are still on this subject, are
+you aware, my child, that you could not be married by a Jewish rabbi?"
+
+She started perceptibly.
+
+"I should love to be married by Doctor C----."  As she pronounced the grand
+old rabbi's name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.
+
+"I know.  But you would have to take a justice as a substitute."
+
+"A Unitarian minister would be breaking no law in uniting us, and I think
+would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had no objection."
+The doctor looked at him questioningly.  Levice answered by turning to
+Ruth.  She passed her hand over her forehead.
+
+"Do you think," she asked, "that after a ceremony had been performed, Dr.
+C---- would bless us?  As a friend, would he have to refuse?"
+
+"He would be openly sanctioning a marriage which according to the
+rabbinical law is no marriage at all.  Do you think he would do this,
+notwithstanding his friendship for you?" returned her father.  They both
+looked at him intently.
+
+"Ah, well," she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming to
+her pale lips, "it is but a sentiment, and I could forego it, I suppose.
+One must give up little things sometimes for great."
+
+"Yes; and this would be but the first.  My children, there is something
+radically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much before
+marriage.  'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' and why should we
+add trouble to days already burdened before they come?"
+
+"We should find all this no trouble," said Kemp; "and what is to trouble us
+after?  We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God's name,
+do you ask for more?"
+
+"As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people.  Marriage is a step
+not entered into lightly.  Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heard of
+with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages.  We know
+beforehand what we have to expect from every quarter.  No question I have
+put would be necessary with a Jew.  His ways are ours, and, with few
+exceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him.  How am I
+sure of this with you?  In a moment of anger this difference of faith may
+be flung in each other's teeth, and what then?"
+
+"You mean you cannot trust me."
+
+The quiet, forceful words were accompanied by no sign of emotion.  His deep
+eyes rested as respectfully as ever upon the old gentleman's face.  But the
+attack was a hard one upon Levice.  A vein on his temple sprang into blue
+prominence as he quickly considered his answer.
+
+"I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in any undertaking;
+but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect from you as I should
+have from any Jew who would ask for my daughter's hand."
+
+"I understand that," admitted the other; "but a few minutes ago you imputed
+a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to any gentleman.  You
+may have heard of such happenings among some, but an event of that kind
+would be as removed from us as the meeting of the poles.  Everything
+depends on the parties concerned."
+
+"Besides, Father," added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, "when one
+loves greatly, one is great through love.  Can true married love ever be
+divided and sink to this?"
+
+The little white and gold clock ticked on; it was the only sound.  Levice's
+forehead rested upon his hand over which his silvery hair hung.  Kemp's
+strong face was as calm as a block of granite; Ruth's was pale with
+thought.
+
+Suddenly the old man threw back his head.  They both started at the
+revelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in a
+strained smile.
+
+"I--I," he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance, --"I
+have one last suggestion to make.  You may have children.  What will be
+their religion?"
+
+The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp's face.  As for the
+girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon her father's
+changed face.
+
+"Well?"
+
+The doctor gave one quick glance at Ruth and answered, --
+
+"If God should so bless us, I think the simple religion of love enough for
+childhood.  Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let them choose for
+themselves, as all should be allowed."
+
+"And you, my Ruth?"
+
+A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically, --
+
+"I should be guided by my husband."
+
+The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back,
+dully reiterating, "Time flies, time flies."
+
+"I have quite finished," said Levice, rising.
+
+Kemp did likewise.
+
+"After all," he said deferentially, "you have not answered my question."
+
+"I--think--I--have," replied the old man, slowly.  "But to what question do
+you refer?"
+
+"The simple one, --will you give me your daughter?"
+
+"No, sir; I will not."
+
+Kemp drew himself up, bowed low, and stood waiting some further word, his
+face ashy white.  Levice's lips trembled nervously, and then he spoke in a
+gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrast to his
+former violence.
+
+"You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old, holds
+with me in this.  I do not know how wildly she would take such a
+proposition.  But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shall not
+oppose this marriage.  I love my daughter too dearly to place my beliefs as
+an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it is she who will have to
+live the life, not I.  You and I, sir, have been friends; outside of this
+one great difference there is no man to whom I would more gladly trust my
+child.  I honor and esteem you as a gentleman who has honored my child in
+his love for her.  If I have hurt you in these bitter words, forgive me; as
+my daughter's husband, we must be more than friends."
+
+He held out his hand.  The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,
+made answer somewhat confusedly, --
+
+"Mr. Levice, I thank you.  I can say no more now, except that no son could
+love and honor you more than I shall."
+
+Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,
+looking straight ahead of her.
+
+"My darling," said her father, softly laying his hand on her head and
+raising her lovely face, "if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trust me,
+dear, it was through no lack of love for you.  Do not consider me; forget,
+if you will, all I have said.  You are better able, perhaps, than I to
+judge what is best for you.  Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if after all this
+thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him.  You know
+that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give you to him, I
+shall not keep you from him.  My child, the door is open; you can pass
+through without my hand.  Good-night, my little girl."
+
+His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped and
+kissed her.  He wrung the doctor's hand again in passing, and abruptly
+turned to leave the room.  It was a long room to cross.  Kemp and Ruth
+followed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the old man
+passing slowly out by himself.  As the heavy portiere fell into place
+behind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.
+
+
+Chapter XVIII
+
+She was perfectly still.  Her eyes seemed gazing into vacancy.
+
+"Ruth," he said softly; but she did not move.  His own face showed signs of
+the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as if after a
+long, triumphant struggle.  He came nearer and laid his hand gently upon
+her shoulder.
+
+"Love," he whispered, "have you forgotten me entirely?"
+
+His hand shook slightly; but Ruth gave no sign that she saw or heard.
+
+"This has been too much for you," he said, drawing her head to his breast.
+She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her face lily-white
+against him.  They remained in this position for some minutes till he
+became alarmed at her passivity.
+
+"You are tired, darling," he said, stroking her cheek; "shall I leave you?"
+
+She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, and sprang
+to her feet.  She turned giddy and swayed toward him.  He caught her in his
+arms.
+
+"I am so dizzy," she laughed in a broken voice, looking with dry, shining
+eyes at him; "hold me for a minute."
+
+He experienced a feeling of surprise as she clasped her arms around his
+neck; Ruth had been very shy with her caresses.
+
+His eyes met hers in a long, strange look.
+
+"Of what are you thinking?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+"There is an old German song I used to sing," she replied musingly; "will
+you think me very foolish if I say it is repeating itself to me now, over
+and over again?"
+
+"What is it, dear?' he asked, humoring her.
+
+"Do you understand German?  Oh, of course, my student; but this is a sad
+old song; students don't sing such things.  These are some of the words:
+'Beh te Gott! es war zu sch"n gewesen.'  I wish--"
+
+"It is a miserable song," he said lightly; "forget it."
+
+She disengaged herself from his arms and sat down.  Some late roisterers
+passing by in the street were heard singing to the twang of a mandolin.  It
+was a full, deep song, and the casual voices blended in perfect accord.  As
+the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him with a haunting
+smile.
+
+"People are always singing to us; I wish they wouldn't.  Music is so sad;
+it is like a heart-break."
+
+He knelt beside her; he was a tall man, and the action seemed natural.
+
+"You are pale and tired," he said; "and I am going to take a doctor's
+privilege and send you to bed.  To-morrow you can answer better what I so
+long to hear.  You heard what your father said; your answer rests entirely
+with you.  Will you write, or shall I come?"
+
+"Do you know," she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, "you have
+very pretty, soft dark hair?  Does it feel as soft as it looks?"  She
+raised her hand, and ran her fingers lingeringly through his short, thick
+hair.
+
+"Why," she said brightly, "here are some silvery threads on your temples.
+Troubles, darling?"
+
+"You shall pull them out," he answered, drawing her little hand to his
+lips.
+
+"There, go away," she said quickly, snatching it from him and moving from
+her chair as he rose.  She rested her elbow on the mantel-shelf, and the
+candles from the silver candelabra shone on her face; it looked strained
+and weary.  Kemp's brows gathered in a frown as he saw it.
+
+"I am going this minute," he said; "and I wish you to go to bed at once.
+Don't think of anything but sleep.  Promise me you will go to bed as soon
+as I leave."
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Good-night, sweetheart," he said, kissing her softly, "and dream happy
+dreams."  He stooped again to kiss her hands, and moved toward the door.
+
+"Herbert!"  His hand was on the portiere, and he turned in alarm at her
+strange call.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
+
+"Nothing.  Don't--don't come back, I say.  I just wished to see your face.
+I shall write to you.  Good-night."
+
+And the curtain fell behind him.
+
+As he passed down the gravel walk, a hack drew up and stopped in front of
+the house.  Louis Arnold sprang out.  The two men came face to face.
+
+Arnold recognized the doctor immediately and drew back.  When Kemp saw who
+it was, he bowed and passed on.  Arnold did likewise, but he went in where
+the other went out.
+
+It was late, after midnight.   He had just arrived on a delayed southern
+train.  He knew the family had come home that morning.  Dr. Kemp was rather
+early in making a visit; it had also taken him long to make it.
+
+Louis put his key in the latch and opened the door.  It was very quiet; he
+supposed every one had retired.  He flung his hat and overcoat on a chair
+and walked toward the staircase.  As he passed the drawing-room, a stream
+of light came from beneath the portiere.  He hesitated in surprise,
+everything was so quiet.  Probably the last one had forgotten to put out
+the lights.  He stepped noiselessly up and entered the room.  His footfall
+made no sound on the soft carpet as he moved about putting out the lights.
+He walked to the mantel to blow out the candles, but stopped, dumfounded,
+within a foot of it.  The thing that disturbed him was the motionless white
+figure of his cousin.  It might have been a marble statue, so lifeless she
+seemed, though her face was hidden in her hands.
+
+For a moment Arnold was terrified; but the feeling was immediately
+succeeded by one of exquisite pain.  He was a man not slow to conjecture;
+by some intuition he understood.
+
+He regained his presence of mind and turned quietly to quit the room; his
+innate delicacy demanded it.  He had but turned when a low, moaning sound
+arrested him; he came back irresolutely.
+
+"Did you call, Ruth?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Ruth, it is I, Louis, who is speaking to you.  Do you know how late it
+is?"
+
+With gentle force he drew her fingers from her face.  The mute misery there
+depicted was pitiful.
+
+"Come, go to bed, Ruth," he said as to a child.
+
+She made a movement to rise, but sank back again.
+
+"I am so tired, Louis," she pleaded in a voice of tears, like a weary
+child.
+
+"Yes, I know; but I will help you."  The unfamiliar, gentle quality of his
+voice penetrated even to her numbed senses.
+
+She had not seen him since the night he had asked her to be his wife.  No
+remembrance of this came to her, but his presence held something new and
+restful.  She allowed him to draw her to her feet; and as calmly as a
+brother he led her upstairs and into her room.  Without a question he lit
+the gas for her.
+
+"Good-night, Ruth," he said, blowing out the match.  "Go right to bed; your
+head will be relieved by sleep."
+
+"Thank you, Louis," she said, feeling dimly grateful for something his
+words implied; "good-night."
+
+Arnold noiselessly closed the door behind him.  She quickly locked it and
+sat down in the nearest chair.
+
+Her hands were interlaced so tightly that her nails left imprints in the
+flesh.  She had something to consider.  Oh dear, it was such a simple
+thing; was she to break her father's heart, or her own and--his?  Her
+father's, or his.
+
+It was so stupid to sit and repeat it.  Surely it was decided long ago.
+Such a long time ago, when her father's loving face had put on its misery.
+Would it look that way always?  No, no, no!  She would not have it; she
+dared not; it was too utterly wretched.
+
+Still, there was some one else at the thought of whom her temples throbbed
+wildly.  It would hurt him; she knew it.  The thought for a moment was a
+miserable ecstasy; for he loved her, --her, simple Ruth Levice, --beyond
+all doubting she knew he loved her; and, oh, father, father, how she loved
+him!  Why must she give it all up? she questioned fiercely; did she owe no
+duty to herself?  Was she to drag out all the rest of her weary life
+without his love?  Life!  It would be a lingering death, and she was young
+yet in years.  Other girls had married with graver obstacles, in open
+rupture with their parents, and they had been happy.  Why could not she?
+It was not as if he were at fault; no one dared breathe a word against his
+fair fame.  To look at his strong, handsome face meant confidence.  That
+was when he left the room.
+
+Some one else had left the room also.  Some one who had loved her all her
+life, some one who had grown accustomed in more than twenty years to listen
+gladly for her voice, to anticipate every wish, to hold her as in the palm
+of a loving hand, to look for and rest on her unquestioned love.  He too
+had left the room; but he was not strong and handsome, poor, poor old
+father with his small bent shoulders.  What a wretched thing it is to be
+old and have the heart-strings that have so confidently twisted themselves
+all these years around another rudely cut off, --and that by your only
+child!
+
+At the thought an icy quiet stole over her.  How long she sat there,
+musing, debating, she did not know.  When the gray dawn broke, she rose up
+calmly and seated herself at her writing-table.  She wrote steadily for
+some time without erasing a single word.  She addressed the envelope
+without a falter over the name.
+
+"That is over," she said audibly and deliberately.
+
+A cock crowed.  It was the beginning of another day.
+
+
+Chapter XIX
+
+Dr. Kemp tossed the reins to his man, sprang from his carriage, and hurried
+into his house.  "Burke!" he called while closing the door, "Burke!"  He
+walked toward the back of the house and into the kitchen, still calling.
+Finding it empty, he walked back again and began a still hunt about the
+pieces of furniture in the various rooms.  Being unsuccessful, he went into
+his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurried again to the kitchen.
+
+"Where have you been, Burke?" he exclaimed as that spare-looking personage
+turned, spoon in hand, from the range.
+
+"Right here, General," he replied in surprise, "except when I went out."
+
+"Well; did any mail come here for me?"
+
+"One little Billy-do, General.  I put it under your dinner-plate; and shall
+I serve the soup?" the last was bellowed after his master's retreating
+form.
+
+"Wait till I ring," he called back.
+
+He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and sat down
+hastily, conscious of a slight excitement.
+
+His name and address stared at him from the white envelope in a round, firm
+hand.  There was something about the loop-letters that reminded him of her,
+and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface.  He did not break the
+seal for some minutes, --anticipation is sometimes sweeter than
+realization.  Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for a second, _ a
+boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished some expected pleasure
+to spring suddenly upon him.  How would she address him?  The memory of
+their last meeting gave him courage, and he opened his eyes.  The
+denouement was disconcerting.  Directly under the tiny white monogram she
+had begun without heading of any description: --
+
+It was cruel of me to let you go as I did: you were hopeful when you left.
+I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason.  After all, it saved
+you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even then I knew it
+could never be.  Never!  Forever!--do you know the meaning of those two
+long words?  I do.  They have burned themselves irrevocably into my brain;
+try to understand them, --they are final.
+
+I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you know
+exactly how I still consider what is separating us.  I am wrong.  Only I am
+causing this separation; no one else could or would.  Do not blame my
+father; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; he
+would think I am sacrificing my happiness for him.  I have no doubt you
+think so now.  Let me try to make you understand how different it really
+is.  I am no Jephthah's daughter, --he wants no sacrifice, and I make none.
+Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me.  You heard my father's
+words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoil upon your
+heart like a death's hand.
+
+I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward I am!
+Let me say it now, --I could never be happy with you.  Do you remember
+Shylock, --the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a breaking
+heart?  I could not make merry while he wept; my heart would weep also.
+You see how selfish I am; I am doing it for my own sake, and for no one's
+else.
+
+And that is why I ask you now to forgive me, --because I am not noble
+enough to consider you when my happiness is at stake.  I suppose I am a
+light person seemingly to play thus with a man's heart.  If this
+reflection can rob you of regret, think me so.  Does it sound presumptuous
+or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happy without me?
+Well, it is said hearts do not break for love, --that is, not quickly.  If
+you will just think of what I have done, surely you will not regret your
+release; you may yet find a paradise with some other and better woman.  No,
+I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be happy.  Why should not
+you, then, --you, a man; I, a woman?  Forget me.  In your busy, full life
+this should be easy.  Trust me, no woman is worthy of spoiling your life
+for you.
+
+My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart.  I am
+such a woman.  I may never see your face again.  Will you not forgive me?
+
+RUTH.
+
+He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking soup.
+
+"I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring," he stammered, shocked at the
+altered face.
+
+"Take it away," said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair.  "I do
+not wish any dinner, Burke.  I am going to my office, and must not be
+disturbed." 
+
+The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and went
+back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.
+
+Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his
+desk.  He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning.  It took a
+long time, for he read between the lines.  A deep groan escaped him as he
+laid it down.  It was written as she would have spoken; he could see the
+expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty feeling
+of powerlessness came upon him.  He did not blame her, --how could he, with
+that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him?  He got up and paced
+the floor.  His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling almost
+overpowered him.  The words of the letter repeated themselves to him.
+"Paradise with some other, better woman," --she might have left that out;
+she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself.  "I too shall be
+happy."  Not that, not some other man's wife, --the thought was demoniacal.
+He caught his reflection in the glass in passing.  "I must get out of
+this," he laughed with dry, parched lips.  He seized his hat and went out.
+The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with it, and then came
+home and wrote to her: --
+
+I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word.  Be happy if you
+can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much, --the fact that you are
+somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the
+living.  If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,
+the knowledge will be eternally true.  Wherever you are, whatever the need,
+remember--I am at hand.
+
+HERBERT KEMP.
+
+Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answer was
+received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavy shadows
+around her eyes.
+
+"It is all over, Father," she said; "we have parted forever.  Perhaps I did
+not love him enough to give up so much for him.  At any rate I shall be
+happier with you, dear."
+
+"Are you sure, my darling?"
+
+"Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it.  Remember, it is dead
+and buried; we must never remind each other of it again.  Kiss me, Father,
+and forget that it has been."
+
+Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as he looked
+into her lovely, resolute face.
+
+
+Chapter XX
+
+We do not live wholly through ourselves.  What is called fate is but the
+outcome of the spinning of other individuals twisted into the woof of our
+own making; so no life should be judged as a unit.
+
+Ruth Levice was not alone in the world; she was neither recluse nor a
+genius, but a girl with many loving friends and a genial home-life.  Having
+resolved to bear to the world an unchanged front, she outwardly did as she
+had always done.  Her mother's zealous worldliness returned with her
+health; and Ruth fell in with all her plans for a gay winter, --that is,
+the plans were gay; Ruth's presence could hardly be termed so.  The old
+spontaneous laugh was superseded by a gentle smile, sympathetic perhaps,
+but never joyous.  She listened more, and seldom now took the lead in a
+general conversation, though there was a charm about a t te- -t te with her
+that earnest persons, men and women, felt without being able to define it.
+For the change, without doubt, was there.  It was as if a quiet hand had
+been passed over her exuberant, happy girlhood and left a serious,
+thoughtful woman in its stead.  A subtile change like this is not speedily
+noticed by outsiders; it requires usage before an acquaintance will account
+it a characteristic instead of a mood.  But her family knew it.  Mrs.
+Levice, wholly in the dark as to the cause, wondered openly.
+
+"You might be thirty, Ruth, instead of twenty-two, by the staidness of your
+demeanor.  While other girls are laughing and chatting as girls should, you
+look on with the tolerant dignity of a woman of grave concerns.  If you had
+anything to trouble you, there might be some excuse; but as it is, why
+can't you go into enjoyments like the rest of your friends?"
+
+"Don't I?  Why, I hardly know another girl who lives in such constant
+gayety as I.  Are we not going to a dinner this evening and to the ball
+to-morrow night?"
+
+"Yes; but you might as well be going to a funeral for all the pleasure you
+seem to anticipate.  If you come to a ball with such a grandly serious air,
+the men will just as soon think of asking a statue to dance as you.  A
+statue may be beautiful in its niche, but people do not care to study its
+meaning at a ball."
+
+"What do you wish me to do, Mamma?  I should hate the distinction of a
+wall-flower, which you think imminent.  I am afraid I am too big a woman to
+be frolicsome."
+
+"You never were that, but you were at least a girl.  People will begin to
+think you consider yourself above them, or else that you have some secret
+trouble."
+
+The smile of incredulity with which she answered her would have been
+heart-breaking had it been understood.  No flush stained the ivory pallor
+of her face at these thrusts in the dark; Louis was never annoyed in this
+way now.  Her old-time excited contradictions never obtruded themselves in
+their conversations.  A silent knowledge lay between them which neither, by
+word or look, ever alluded to.  Mrs. Levice noted with delight their
+changed relations.  Louis's sarcasm ceased to be directed at Ruth; and
+though the familiar sparring was missing, Mrs. Levice preferred his
+deferential bearing when he addressed her, and Ruth's grave graciousness
+with him.  She drew her own conclusions, and accepted Ruth's quietness with
+more patience on this account.
+
+Louis understood somewhat; and in his manliness he could not hide that her
+suffering had cost him a new code of actions.  But he could not understand
+as her father did.  Despite her brave smile, Levice could almost read her
+heart-beats, and the knowledge brought a hardness and a bitter regret.  He
+grew to scanning her face surreptitiously, looking in vain for the old,
+untroubled delight in things; and when the unmistakable signs of secret
+anguish would leave traces at times, he would turn away with a groan.  Yet
+there was nothing to be done.  He knew that her love had been no light
+thing nor could her giving up be so; but feeling that no matter what the
+present cost, the result would compensate, he trusted to time to heal the
+wound.  Meanwhile his own self-blame at these times left its mark upon him.
+
+For Ruth lived a dual life.  The real one was passed in her quiet chamber,
+in her long solitary walks, and when she sat with her book, apparently
+reading.  She would look up with blank, despairing eyes, clinched hands,
+and hard-set teeth when the thought of him and all her loss would steal
+upon her.  Her father had caught many such a look upon her face.  She had
+resolved to live without him, but accomplishment is not so easy.  Besides,
+it was not as if she never saw him.  San Francisco is not so large a city
+but that by the turning of a corner you may not come across a friend.  Ruth
+grew to study the sounds the different kinds of vehicles made; and the
+rolling wheels of a doctor's carriage behind her would set her pulses
+fluttering in fright.
+
+She was walking one day along Sutter Street toward Gough from Octavia.  The
+street takes a sudden down-grade midway in the block.  She was approaching
+this declension just before the Boys' High School when a carriage drove
+quickly up the hill toward her.  The horses gave a bound as if the reins
+had been jerked; there was the momentary flash of a man's stern, white face
+as he raised his hat; and Ruth was walking down the hill, trembling and
+pale.  It was the first time; and for one minute her heart seemed to stop
+beating and then rushed wildly on.  Whether she had bowed or made any sign
+of recognition, she did not know.  It did not matter, though; if he thought
+her cold or strange or anything, what difference could it possibly make?
+For her there would be left forever this dead emptiness.  These casual
+meetings were inevitable; and she would come home after them worn-out and
+heavy-eyed.  "A slight headache" was a recurrent excuse with her.
+
+They had common friends, and it would not have been surprising had she met
+him at the different affairs to which she went, always through her mother's
+desire.  But the dread of coming upon him slowly departed as the months
+rolled by and with them all token of him.  Time and again she would hear
+allusions to him.  "Dr. Kemp has developed into a misogynist," pouted
+Dorothy Gwynne.  "He was one of the few decided eligibles on the horizon,
+but it requires the magnet of illness to draw him now.  I really must look
+up the symptoms of a possible ache; the toilet and expression of an invalid
+are very becoming, you know."
+
+"Dr. Kemp made a splendid donation to our kindergarten to-day.  I have not
+seen him since we were in the country, and he thought me looking very well.
+He inquired after the family, and I told him we had a residence, at which
+he smiled."  This from Mrs. Levice.  Ruth would have given much to have
+been able to ask after him with self-possession, but the muscles of her
+throat seemed to swell and choke her while silent.  She went now and then
+to see Bob Bard in his flower-store; he would without fail inquire after
+"our friend" or tell her of his having passed that day.  Here was her one
+chance of inquiring if he was looking well, to which the answer was
+invariably "yes."
+
+She sat one night at the opera in her wonted beauty, with her soft, dusky
+hair rolled from her sweet Madonna face.  Many a lorgnette was raised a
+second and a third time toward her.  Louis, seated next to her, resented
+with unaccountable ferocity this free admiration that she did not see or
+feel.
+
+As the curtain went down on the first act, he drew her attention to some
+celebrity then passing out.  She raised her glass, but her hand fell
+nerveless in her lap.  Immediately following him came Dr. Kemp.  Their eyes
+met, and he bowed low, passing on immediately.  The rest of the evening
+passed like a nightmare; she heard nothing but her heart-throbs, saw
+nothing but his beloved face regarding her with simple courtesy.  Louis
+knew that for her the opera was over; the tell-tale bistrous shadows grew
+around her eyes, and she became deadly silent.
+
+"What a magnificent man he is," murmured Mrs. Levice, "and what an
+impressive bow he has!"  Ruth did not hear her; but when she reached her
+own room, she threw herself face downward on her bed in intolerable
+anguish.  She was not a girl who cried easily.  If she had been, her
+suffering would not have been so intense, --when the flood-gates are
+opened, the river finds relief.  Over and over again she wished she might
+die and end this eager, passionate craving for some token of love from him,
+or for the power of letting him know how it was with her.  And it would
+always be thus as long as she lived.  She did not deceive herself; no mere
+friendship would have sufficed, --all or nothing after what had been.
+
+Physically, however, she bore no traces of this continual restraint.  On
+the contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions.  Little
+children, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to be taken
+into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her.  By degrees
+her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect and the sympathy of
+her face, and came to regard her as the queen of confidantes.  Young girls
+with their continual love episodes and excitements, ambitious youths with
+their whimsical schemes of life and aspirations of love, sought her out
+openly.  Few of these latter dared hope for any individual thought from
+her, though any of the older men would have staked a good deal for the
+knowledge that she singled him for her consideration.
+
+Arnold viewed it all with inward satisfaction.  He regarded memory but as a
+sort of palimpsest; and he was patiently waiting until his own name should
+appear again, when the other's should have been sufficiently obliterated.
+
+It was a severe winter, and everybody appreciated the luxury of a warm
+home.  December came in wet and cold, and la grippe held the country in its
+disagreeable hold.  The Levices were congratulating themselves one evening
+on their having escaped the epidemic.
+
+"I suppose the secret of it lies in the fact that we do not coddle
+ourselves," observed Levice.
+
+"If you were to coddle yourself a little more," retorted his wife, "you
+would not cough every morning as you do.  Really, Jules, if you do not
+consult a physician, I shall send for Kemp myself.  I actually think it is
+making you thin."
+
+"Nonsense!" he replied carelessly; "it is only a little irritation of the
+throat every morning.  If the weather is clear next week, I must go to New
+York.  Eh, Louis?"
+
+"At this time of the year!" cried Mrs. Levice, in expostulation.
+
+"Some one has to go, and the only one that should is I."
+
+"I think I could manage it," said Louis, "if you would see about the other
+adjustment while I am gone."
+
+"No, you could not,"--when Levice said "no," it seldom meant an ultimate
+"yes."  "Besides, the trip will do me good."
+
+"I shall go with you," put in Mrs. Levice, decidedly.
+
+"No, dear; you could not stand the cold in New York, and I could not be
+bothered with a woman's grip-sack."
+
+"Take Ruth, then."
+
+"I should love to go with you, Father," she replied to the questioning
+glance of his eyes.  He seemed to ponder over it for a while, but shook his
+head finally.
+
+"No," he said again; "I shall be very busy, and a woman would be a nuisance
+to me.  Besides, I wish to be alone for a while."
+
+They all looked at him in surprise; he was so unused to making testy
+remarks.
+
+"Grown tired of womankind?" asked Mrs. Levice, playfully.  "Well, if you
+must, you must; don't overstay your health and visit, and bring us
+something pretty.  How long will you be gone?"
+
+"That depends on the speediness of the courts.  No more than three weeks at
+the utmost, however."
+
+So the following Wednesday being bright and sunny, he set off; the family
+crossed the bay with him.
+
+"Take care of your mother, Ruth," he said at parting, "and of yourself, my
+pale darling."
+
+"Don't worry about me, Father," she said, pulling up his furred collar;
+"indeed, I am well and happy.  If you could believe me, perhaps you would
+love me as much as you used to."
+
+"As much!  My child, I never loved you better than now; remember that.  I
+think I have forgotten everybody else in you."
+
+"Don't, dear! it makes me feel miserable to think I should cause you a
+moment's uneasiness.  Won't you believe that everything is as I wish it?"
+
+"If I could, I should have to lose the memory of the last four months.
+Well, try your best to forgive me, child."
+
+"Unless you hate me, don't hurt me with that thought again.  I forgive you?
+I, who am the cause of it all?"
+
+He kissed her tear-filled eyes tenderly, and turned with a sign to her
+mother.
+
+They watched to the last his loved face at the window, Ruth with a sad
+smile and a loving wave of her handkerchief.
+
+Over at the mole it is not a bad place to witness tragedies.  Pathos holds
+the upper hand, and the welcomes are sometimes as heart-rending as the
+leave-takings.  A woman stood on the ferry with a blank, working face down
+which the tears fell heedlessly; a man, her husband, turned from her, drew
+his hat down over his eyes, and stalked off toward the train without a
+backward glance.  Parting is a figure of death in this respect, --that only
+those who are left need mourn; the others have something new beyond.
+
+
+Chapter XXI
+
+The fire-light threw grotesque shadows on the walls.  Ruth and Louis in the
+library made no movement to ring for lights; it was quite cosey as it was.
+They had both drawn near the crackling wood-blaze, Ruth in a low rocker,
+Arnold in Mr. Levice's broad easy-chair.
+
+"I surely thought you intended going to the concert this evening, Louis,"
+she said, looking across at him.  "I fancy Mamma expected you to accompany
+her."
+
+"What!  Voluntarily put myself into the cold when there is a fire blazing
+right here?  Ah, no.  At any rate, your mother is all right with the
+Lewises, and I am all right with you."
+
+"I give you a guarantee I shall not bite; you look altogether too hard for
+my cannibalistic propensities."
+
+"It is something not to be accounted soft.  I think a redundancy of flesh
+overflows in trickling sentimentality.  My worst enemy could not accuse me
+of either fault."
+
+"But your best friend would not mind a little thaw now and then.  One of
+the girls confided to me today that walking on and over-waxed floor was
+nothing to attempting an equal footing in conversation with you."
+
+"I am sorry I am such a slippery customer.  Does not the fire burn your
+face?  Shall I hand you a screen?"
+
+"No; I like to toast."
+
+"But your complexion might char; move your chair a little forward."
+
+"In two minutes I intend to have lights and to bring my work down.  Will it
+make you tired to watch me?"
+
+"Exceedingly.  I prefer your undivided attention; it is not often we are
+alone, Ruth."
+
+She looked up slightly startled; he seldom made personal remarks.  Her
+pulses began to flutter with the premonition that reference to a tacitly
+buried secret was going to be made.
+
+"We have been going out and receiving a good deal lately, though somehow I
+don't feel festive, with Father away in freezing New York.  Mamma would
+gladly have stayed at home to-night if Jennie had not insisted."
+
+"You think so?  I fancy she was a very willing captive; she intimated as
+much to me."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Not in words, but her eyes were interesting reading: first, capitulation
+to Jennie, then, in rapid succession, inspiration, command, entreaty, a
+challenge and retreat, all directed at me.  Possibly this eloquence was
+lost upon you."
+
+"Entirely.  What was your interpretation?"
+
+"Ah, that was confidential.  Perhaps I even endowed her with these
+thoughts, knowing her desires were in touch with my own."
+
+"It is wanton cruelty to arouse a woman's curiosity and leave it
+unsatisfied."
+
+"It is not cruelty; it is cowardice."
+
+She gazed at him in wonder.  His apple-blossom cheeks wore a rosier glow
+than usual.  He seized a log from the box, threw it on the blaze that
+illumined their faces, grasped the poker, and leaning forward in his chair
+let it grow hot as he held it to the flames.  His glasses fell off,
+dangling from the cord; and as he adjusted them, he caught the curious,
+half-amused smile on Ruth's attentive face.  He gave the fire a sharp
+raking and addressed her, gazing into the leaping flames.
+
+"I was wondering why, after all, you could not be happy as my wife."
+
+A numbness as of death overspread her.
+
+"I think I could make you happy, Ruth."
+
+In the pregnant silence that followed he looked up, and meeting her sad,
+reproachful eyes, laid down the poker softly but resolutely; there was
+method in the action.
+
+"In fact, I know I could make you happy."
+
+"Louis, have you forgotten?" she cried in sharp pain.
+
+"I have forgotten nothing," he replied incisively.  "Listen to me, Ruth.
+It is because I remember that I ask you.  Give me the right to care for
+you, and you will be happier than you can ever be in these circumstances."
+
+"You do not know what you ask, Louis.  Even if I could, you would never be
+satisfied."
+
+"Try me, Ruth," he entreated.
+
+She raised herself from her easy, reclining position, and regarded him
+earnestly.
+
+"What you desire," she said in a restrained manner, "would be little short
+of a crime for me.  What manner of wife should I be to you when my every
+thought is given to another?"
+
+His face put on the set look of one who has shut his teeth hard together.
+
+"I anticipated this repulse," he said after a pause; "so what you have just
+assured me of does not affect my wish or my resolution to continue my
+plea."
+
+"Would you marry a woman who feels herself as closely bound to another, or
+the memory of another, as if the marriage rite had been actually performed?
+Oh, Louis, how could you force me to these disclosures?"
+
+"I am seeking no disclosure, but it is impossible for me to continue silent
+now."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?  Because I love you."
+
+They sat so close together he might have touched her by putting out his
+hand, but he remained perfectly still, only the pale excitement of long
+repression speaking from his face; but she shrank back at his words and
+raised her hand as if about to receive a blow.
+
+"Do not be alarmed," he continued, noticing the action; "my love cannot
+hurt you, or it would have killed you long ago."
+
+"Oh, Louis," she murmured, "forgive me; I never thought you cared so much."
+
+"How should you?  I am not a man to wear my heart upon my sleeve.  I think
+I have always loved you; but living as familiarly as we have lived, seeing
+you whenever I wished, the thought that some day this might end never
+occurred to me.  It was only when the possibility of some other man's
+claiming your love and taking you from me presented itself, that my heart
+rose up in arms against it, --and then I asked you to be my wife."
+
+"Yes," she replied, raising her pale face; "and I refused.  The same cause
+that moved me then, and to which you submitted without protest, rules me
+now, and you know it."
+
+"No; I do not know it.  What then might have had a possible issue is now
+done with--or do I err?"
+
+Her mouth trembled piteously, but no tears came as she lowered her head.
+
+"Then listen to me.  You may think me a poor sort of a fellow even to wish
+you to marry me when you assure me that you love another.  That means that
+you do not love me as a husband should be loved, but it does not prove that
+you never could love me so."
+
+"It proves just that."
+
+"No, you may think so now, but let me reason you into seeing the falsity of
+your thought, --for I do not wish to force or impel you to do a thing
+repugnant to your reason as well as to your feelings.  To begin with, you
+do not dislike me?"
+
+His face was painful in its eagerness.
+
+"I have always loved you as a dear brother."
+
+"Some people would consider that worse than hostility; I do not.  Another
+question: Is there anything about my life or personality to which you
+object, or of which your are ashamed?"
+
+"You know how proud we all are of you in your bearing in every relation of
+life."
+
+"I was egotist enough to think as much at any rate; otherwise I could not
+approach you so confidently.  Well, love--indifferent if you will--and
+respect are not a bad foundation for something stronger.  Will you, for the
+sake of argument, suppose that for some reason you have forgotten your
+opposition and have been led into marrying me?"
+
+The sad indulgence of her smile was not inspiriting, but he continued, --
+
+"Now, then, say you are my wife; that means I am your husband, and I love
+you.  You do not return my love, you say; you think you would be wretched
+with me because you love another.  Still, you are married to me; that gives
+me rights that no other man can possess, no matter how much you love him.
+You are bound to me, I to you and your happiness; so I pledge myself to
+make you happier than you are now, because I shall make you forget this
+man."
+
+"You could not, and I should only grow to hate you."
+
+"Impossible," the pallor of his face intensifying; "because I should so act
+that my love would wait upon your pleasure: it would never push itself into
+another's place, but it would in time overshadow the other.  For, remember,
+I shall be your husband.  I shall give you another life; I shall take you
+away with me.  You will leave all your old friends and associations for a
+while, and I shall be with you always, --not intrusively, but necessarily.
+I shall give you every pleasure and novelty that the Old World can afford.
+I shall shower my love on you, not myself.  In return I shall expect your
+tolerance.  In time I will make you love me."
+
+His voice shook with the strength of his passion, while she listened in
+heart-sick fear.  Carried away by his manner, she almost felt as if he had
+accomplished his object.  He quieted down after this.
+
+"Don't you see, Ruth, that all this change must make you forget?  And if
+you tried to put the past from you for no other reason than that your
+wifehood would be less untrue, you would be but following the instincts of
+a truly honorable woman.  After that, all would be easy.  In every instance
+you would be forced to look upon me as your husband, for you would belong
+to me.  I should be the author of all your surroundings; and always keeping
+in mind how I want you to regard me, I should woo you so tenderly that
+without knowing it you would finally yield.  Then, and only then, when I
+had filled your thought to the exclusion of every other man, I should bring
+you home; and I think we should be happy."
+
+"And you would be satisfied to give so much and receive so little?"
+
+"The end would repay me."
+
+"It is a pretty story," she said, letting her hands fall listlessly into
+her lap, "but the denouement is a castle in Spain that we should never
+inhabit.  You think your love is strong enough to kill mine first of all;
+well, I tell you, nothing is strong enough for that.  With this fact
+established the rest is needless to speak of.  It is only your dream,
+Louis; forgive me that I unwittingly intruded into it; reality would mean
+disillusion, --we are happy only when we dream."
+
+"You are bitter."
+
+"Our relations are turned, then; I have put into practice your old theories
+of the uselessness of life.  No; I am wrong.  It is better to die than not
+to have loved."
+
+"You think you have lived your life, then.  I can't convince you otherwise
+now; but I am going to beg you to think this over, to try to imagine
+yourself my wife.  I will not hasten your decision, but in a week's time
+you should be able to answer me yes or no.  If anything can help my cause,
+I cannot overlook it; so I may tell you now that for some occult reason
+your mother's one wish is to see you my wife."
+
+"And my father?" her voice was harsh now.
+
+"Your father has expressed to your mother that such a course would make him
+happy."
+
+She rose suddenly as if oppressed.  Her face looked hard to a degree.  She
+stood before him, tall and rigid.  He stood up and faced her, reading her
+face so intently that he straightened himself as if to receive an attack.
+
+"I will consider what you have said," she said mechanically.
+
+The reaction was so unexpected that he turned giddy and caught on to the
+back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+"It will not take me a week," she went on with no change in her monotone;
+"I can give you an answer in a day or two.  To-morrow night, perhaps."
+
+He made a step forward, a movement to seize her hand; but she stepped back
+and waved him off.
+
+"Don't touch me," she cried in a suppressed voice; "at least you are not my
+husband--yet."
+
+She turned hastily toward the door without another word.
+
+"Wait!"
+
+His vibrant voice compelled her to turn.
+
+"I want no martyr for a wife, nor yet a tragedy queen.  If you can come to
+me and honestly say, 'I trust my happiness to you,' well and good.  But as
+I told you once before, I am not a saint, and I cannot always control
+myself as I have been forced to do tonight.  If this admission is damaging,
+it is too true to be put lightly aside.  I shall not detain you longer."
+
+He looked haughty and cold regarding her from this dim distance.  Her
+gentleness struggled to get the better of her, and she came back and held
+out her hand.
+
+"I am sorry if I offended you, Louis; good-night.  Will you not pardon my
+selfishness?"
+
+His eyes gleamed behind their glasses; he did not take her hand, but merely
+bent over the little peace-offering as over a sacrament.  Seeing that he
+had no intention of doing more, her hand fell passively to her side, and
+she left the room.
+
+As the door closed softly, Arnold sank with a hopeless gesture into a chair
+and buried his face in his hands.  He was not a stoic, but a man, --a
+Frenchman, who loved much; but Arnold, half-blinded by his own love,
+scarcely appreciated the depths of self-forgetfulness to which Ruth would
+have to succumb in order to accept the guaranty of happiness which he
+offered her.
+
+The question now presented itself in the light of a duty: if by this action
+she could undo the remorse that her former offence had inflicted, had she
+the right to ignore the opportunity?  A vision of her own sad face obtruded
+itself, but she put it sternly from her.  If she were to do this thing, the
+motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly kept in view the fact that
+her marriage would be the only means by which her father might be relieved
+of the haunting knowledge of her lost peace of mind.  Had she given one
+thought to Louis, the possibility of the act would have been abhorrent to
+her.  One picture she kept constantly before her, --her father's happy
+eyes.
+
+
+Chapter XXII
+
+Mrs. Levice's gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was embroidering
+to Ruth's pale face.  Every time the latter stirred, her mother started
+expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not forthcoming.
+Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the feeling of
+comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call
+comfortably-minded.  Her frequent inventories of Ruth's face had at last
+led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark
+shadows about her eyes meant something decidedly not gladsome.
+
+"Don't you feel well, Ruth?" she asked finally with some anxiety.
+
+Ruth raised her heavy eyes.
+
+"I?  Oh, I feel perfectly well.  Why do you ask?  Do I look ill?"
+
+"Yes, you do; your face is pale, and your eyes look tired.  Did you sit up
+late last night?"
+
+This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so
+evident to her now.
+
+"No," she replied; "I believe it could not have been nine when I went
+upstairs."
+
+"Why?  Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis's company unpleasant?"
+
+"Oh, no," was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page
+again.
+
+Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such
+tactics.  Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of
+which her weary appearance was the consequence.  She felt almost positive
+that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash of
+intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression.  It was
+natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so reserved.
+With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something more.
+
+"For my part," she observed, as if continuing a discussion, "I think Louis
+charming in a tete-a-tete, --when he feels inclined to be interesting he
+generally succeeds.  Did he tell you anything worth repeating?  It is a
+dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little."
+
+She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and encountered
+Ruth's full, questioning gaze.
+
+"What is it you would like to know, Mamma?" she asked in a gentle voice.
+
+"Nothing that you do not wish to tell," her mother answered proudly, but
+regarding her intently.
+
+Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment
+before answering.
+
+"I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had decided
+I hardly thought it necessary to say anything.  He asked me to--marry him."
+
+The avowal was not made with the conventional confusion and trembling.
+
+Mrs. Levice was startled by the dead calm of her manner.
+
+"You say that as if it were a daily occurrence for a man like Louis Arnold
+to offer you his hand and name."
+
+"I hope not."
+
+"But you do.  I confess I think you are not one tenth as excited as I am.
+Why didn't you tell me before?  Any other girl would have sat up to tell
+her mother in the night.  Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad.  I have been
+looking forward to this ever since you grew up.  What did you mean by
+saying you wished to wait till you had decided?  Decided what?"
+
+"Upon my answer."
+
+"As if you could question it, you fortunate girl!  Or were you waiting for
+me to help you to it?  I scarcely need tell you how you have been honored."
+
+"Honor is not everything, Mamma."
+
+At that moment a desperate longing for her mother's sympathy seized her;
+but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would occasion
+came to her, and her lips remained closed.
+
+"No," responded her mother, "and you have more than that; surely Louis did
+not neglect to tell you."
+
+"You mean his love, I suppose, --yes, I have that."
+
+"Then what else would you have?  You probably know that he can give you
+every luxury within reason, --so much for honest practicality.  As to Louis
+himself, the most fastidious could find nothing to cavil at, --he will make
+you a perfect husband.  You are familiar enough with him to know his
+faults; but no man is faultless.  I hope you are not so silly as to expect
+some girlish ideal, --for all the ideals died in the Golden Age, you know."
+
+"As mine did.  No; I have outgrown imagination in that line."
+
+"Then why do you hesitate?"  Her mother's eyes were shining; her face was
+alive with the excitement of hope fulfilled.  "Is there anything else
+wanting?"
+
+"No," she responded dully; "but let us not talk about it any more, please.
+I must see Louis again, you know."
+
+"If your father were here, he could help you better, dear;" there was no
+reproach in Mrs. Levice's gentle acceptance of the fact; "he will be so
+happy over it.  There, kiss me, girlie; I know you like to think things out
+in silence, and I shall not say another word about it till you give me
+leave."
+
+She kept her word.  The dreary afternoon dragged on.  By four o-clock it
+was growing dark, and Mrs. Levice became restless.
+
+"I am going to my room to write to your father now, --he shall have a good
+scolding for the non-receipt of a letter to-day;" and forthwith she betook
+herself upstairs.
+
+Ruth closed her book and moved restlessly about the room.  She wandered
+over to the front window, and drawing aside the silken curtain, looked out
+into the storm-tossed garden.  The pale heliotropes lay wet and sweet
+against the trellises; some loosened rose-petals fluttered noiselessly to
+the ground; only the gorgeous chrysanthemums looked proudly indifferent to
+the elements; and the beautiful, stately palm-tree just at the side of the
+window spread its gracious arms like a protecting temple.  She felt
+suddenly oppressed and feverish, and threw open the long French window.
+The rain had ceased for the time, and she stepped out upon the veranda.
+The fragrance of the rain-soaked flowers stole to her senses; the soft,
+sweet breeze caressed her temples; she stood still in the perfumed
+freshness and enjoyed its peace.  By and by she began to walk up and down.
+Evening was approaching, and Louis would soon be home.  She had decided to
+meet him on his return and have it over with.  She must school herself to
+some show of graciousness.  The thing must not be done by halves or it must
+not be done at all.  Her father's happiness; over and over she repeated it.
+She went so far as to picture herself in his arms; she heard the old-time
+words of blessing; she saw his smiling eyes; and a gentleness stole over
+her whole face, a gentle nobility that made it strangely sweet.  The soft
+patter of rain on the gravel roused her, and she went in; but she felt
+better, and wished Louis might come in while the mood was upon her.
+
+It was nearing six when Mrs. Levice came back humming a song.
+
+"I thought you would still be here.  Make a light, will you, Ruth; it is as
+pitchy as Hades, only that smouldering log looks purgatorial."
+
+Ruth lit the gas; and as she stood with upturned eyes adjusting the burner,
+her mother noticed that the heaviness had departed from her face.  She sank
+into a rocker and took up the evening paper.
+
+"What time is it, Ruth?"
+
+"Twenty minutes to six," she answered, glancing at the clock.
+
+"As late as that?"  She meant to say, "And Louis not home yet?" but forbore
+to mention his name.
+
+"It is raining heavily now," said Ruth, throwing a log upon the fire.  Mrs.
+Levice unfolded the crackling newspaper, and Ruth moved over to the window
+to draw down the blinds.  As she stood looking out with her hand on the
+chair, she saw the gate swing slowly open, and a messenger-boy came
+dawdling up the walk as if the sun were streaming full upon him.
+
+Ruth stepped noiselessly out, meaning to anticipate his ring.  A vague
+foreboding drove the blood from her lips as she stood waiting at the open
+hall-door.  Seeing the streaming light, the boy managed to accelerate his
+snail's pace.
+
+"Miss Ruth Levice live here?" he asked, stopping in the doorway.
+
+"Yes."  She took the packet he handed her.  "Any charges or answers?" she
+asked.
+
+"Nom," answered the boy; and noticing her pallor and apprehension, "I'll
+shet the door for you," he added , laying his hand on the knob.
+
+"Thank you.  Here, take two cars if necessary; it is too wet to walk."  She
+handed him a quarter, and the boy went off, gayly whistling.
+
+She closed the heavy door softly and sat down on a chair.  She recognized
+Louis's handwriting on the wrapper, and her heart fluttered ominously.  She
+tore off the damp covering, and the first thing she encountered was another
+wrapper on which was written in large characters: --
+
+DEAR RUTH, --Do not be alarmed; everything is all right.  I had to leave
+town on the overland at 6 P.M.  Read the letter first, then the telegram;
+they will explain.
+
+LOUIS
+
+The kindly feeling that had prompted this warning was appreciated; one fear
+was stilled.  She drew out the letter; she saw in perplexity that it was
+from her father.  She hurriedly opened it and read:
+
+NEW YORK, Jan. 21, 188--.
+
+DEAR LOUIS, --I am writing this from my bed, where I have been confined for
+the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a daily postal.
+Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious to start home
+again.  I really cannot rest here, and have made arrangements to leave
+to-morrow.  Have taken every precaution against catching cold, and apart
+from feeling a trifle weak and annoyed by a cough, am all right.  Shall
+come home directly.  Say nothing of this to Esther or Ruth; shall apprise
+them by telegram of my home-coming.  Had almost completed the business, and
+can leave the rest to Hamilton.
+
+My love to you all.
+
+                Your loving Uncle,
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+Under this Louis had pencilled,
+
+Received this this morning at 10.30.
+
+Ruth closed her eyes as she unfolded the telegram; then with every nerve
+quivering she read the yellow missive: --
+
+RENO, Jan. 27, 188--.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD, San Francisco, Cal.:
+
+Have been delayed by my cough.  Feeling too weak to travel alone.  Come if
+you can.
+
+JULES LEVICE.
+
+Her limbs shook as she sat; her teeth chattered; for one minute she turned
+sick and faint.  Under the telegram Arnold had written: --
+
+Am sure it is nothing.  He has never been ill, and is more frightened than
+a more experienced person would be.  There is no need to alarm your mother
+unnecessarily, so say nothing till you hear from me.  Shall wire you as
+soon as I arrive, which will be to-morrow night. 
+
+LOUIS.
+
+How could she refrain from telling her mother?  She felt suddenly weak and
+powerless.  O God, good God, her heart cried, only make him well!
+
+The sound of the library door closing made her spring to her feet; her
+mother stood regarding her.  
+
+"What is it, Ruth?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing," she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to be calm, --
+"nothing at all.  Louis has just sent me word that he had to leave town
+this evening, and says not to wait dinner for him."
+
+"That is very strange," mused her mother, moving slowly toward her and
+holding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into her
+pocket.
+
+"It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, do you?"
+she asked, assuming a desperate gayety.  "There is nothing strange about
+it; he often leaves like this."
+
+"Not in such weather and not after_ There won't be a man in the house
+to-night.  I wish your father were home; he would not like it if he knew."
+She shivered slightly as they went into the dining-room.
+
+
+Chapter XXIII
+
+The next day passed like a nightmare.  To add to the misery of her secret,
+her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any communication
+from her husband.  Had the weather been fair, Ruth would have insisted on
+her going out with her; but to the rain of the day before was added a heavy
+windstorm that made any unnecessary expedition from home absurd.
+
+Mrs. Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down.  She
+was sure that the next delivery would bring something.  Was it not time for
+the second delivery?  Would not Ruth please watch for the postman?  By
+half-past one she took up her station at the window only to see the jaunty
+little rubber-encased man go indifferently by.  At half-past four this
+scene was repeated, and then she decided to act.
+
+"Ring up the telegraph-office, Ruth; I am going to send a despatch."
+
+"Why, Mamma, probably the mail is delayed; it always is in winter.
+Besides, you will only frighten Father."
+
+"Nonsense; two days is a long delay without the excuse of a blockade.  Go
+to the telephone, please."
+
+"The telephone was broken yesterday, you know."
+
+"I had forgotten.  Well, one of the girls must go; I can't stand it any
+longer."
+
+"You can't send any of the girls in such weather; both the maids have
+terrible colds, and Mary would not go if you asked her.  Listen!  It is
+frightful.  I promise to go in the morning if we don't get a letter, but we
+probably shall.  Let us play checkers for a while."  With a forced stoicism
+she essayed to distract her mother's thoughts, but with poor success.  The
+wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately after a show of dining,
+Mrs. Levice went to bed.  At Ruth's suggestion she took some headache
+medicine.
+
+"It will make me sleep, perhaps; and that will be better than worrying
+awake and unable to do anything."
+
+The opiate soon had its effect; and with a sigh of relief Ruth heard her
+mother's regular breathing.  It was now her turn to suffer openly the
+fox-wounds.  Louis had said she would hear to-night; but at what time?  It
+was now eight o'clock, and the bell might ring at any moment.  Mrs. Levice
+slept; and Ruth sat dry-eyed and alert, feeling her heart rise to her
+throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled.  It was one of
+the wildest nights San Francisco ever experienced; trees groaned, gates
+slammed, and a perfect war of the elements was abroad.  The wailing wind
+about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of some one begging for
+shelter.  The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine.  Still her
+mother slept.  Ruth from her chair could see that her cheeks were
+unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried; but any degree of
+oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacing tidings.
+Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrapped them in the
+fleecy shawl that enveloped her.  The action brought to her mind the way
+her father used to tuck her little hands under the coverlet when a child,
+after they had clung around his neck in a long good-night, and how no
+sooner were they there than out they would pop for "just one squeeze more,
+Father;" how long the good-nights were with this play!  She had never
+called him "papa" like other children, but he had always liked it best so.
+She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweet little chimer rang out
+ten bells; she began to grow heart-sick with her thoughts; her limbs ached
+with stiffness, and she began a gentle walk up and down the room.  Would it
+keep up all night?  There!  surely somebody was crunching up the
+gravel-walk.  With one look at her sleeping mother, she quickly left the
+room, closing the door carefully behind her.  With a palpitating heart she
+leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm, after all?  The next
+instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as startling in the dead of
+the night as some supernatural summons.  Before Ruth could hurry down,
+Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out of her room and rushed to the
+door.  In a trice she was back again with the telegram and had put it into
+Ruth's hands.
+
+"Fifteen cents' charges," she said.
+
+"Pay it," returned Ruth.
+
+As the maid turned away, she tore open the envelope.  Before she could open
+the form, a firm hand was placed upon hers.
+
+"Give me that," said her mother's voice.
+
+Ruth recoiled; Mrs. Levice stood before her unusually quiet in her white
+night-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth's fingers from
+the paper.
+
+"But, Mamma, it was addressed to me"
+
+"It was a mistake, then; I know it was meant for me.  Let go instantly, or
+I shall tear the paper.  Obey me, Ruth."
+
+Her voice sounded harsh as a man's.  At the strange tone Ruth's fingers
+loosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room; Ruth
+followed her closely.
+
+Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read.  No change came over her
+face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word to Ruth.
+This was the message: --
+
+RENO, Jan. 28, 188--
+
+MISS RUTH LEVICE, San Francisco, Cal."
+
+Found your father very weak and feverish and coughing continually.  Insists
+on getting home immediately.  Says to inform Dr. Kemp, who will understand,
+and have him at the house on our arrival at 11.30 Thursday.  No present
+danger.
+
+LOUIS ARNOLD
+
+"Explain," commanded her mother, speaking in her overwrought condition as
+if to a stranger.
+
+"Get into bed first, Mamma, or you will take cold."
+
+Mrs. Levice suffered herself to be led there, and in a few words Ruth
+explained what she knew.
+
+"You knew that yesterday before the train left?"
+
+"Yes, Mamma."
+
+"And why didn't you tell me?  I should have gone to him.  Oh, why didn't
+you tell me?"
+
+"It would have been too late, dear."
+
+"No, it is too late now; do you hear?  I shall never see him again, and it
+is all your fault--what do you know?  Stop crying!  will you stop crying,
+or--"
+
+"Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that are not
+true.  It will not be too late; perhaps it is nothing but the cough.  Louis
+says there is no danger."
+
+"Hush!" cried her mother, her whole figure trembling.  "I know there is
+danger now, this minute.  Oh, what can I do, what can I do?"  With this cry
+all her strength seemed to give way; she sobbed and laughed with the
+hysteria of long ago; when Ruth strove to put her arms around her, she
+shook her off convulsively.
+
+"Don't touch me!" she breathed; "it is all your fault--he wants me--needs
+me--and, oh, look at me here!  Why do you stand there like a ghost?  Go
+away.  No, come here--I want Dr. Kemp; now, at once, he said to have him;
+send for him, Ruth."
+
+"On Thursday morning," she managed to answer.
+
+"No, now--I must, must, must have him!  You won't go?  Then I shall; move
+aside."
+
+Ruth, summoning all her strength, strove to hold her in her arms, all to no
+avail.
+
+"Lie still," she said sternly; "I shall go for Dr. Kemp."
+
+"You can't; it is night and raining.  Oh," she continued, half deliriously,
+"I know I am acting strangely, and he will calm me.  Ruth, I want to be
+calm; don't you understand?"
+
+The two maids, frightened by the noise, stood in the doorway.  Both had
+their heads covered with shawls; both were suffering with heavy colds.
+
+"Come in, girls.  Stay here with my mother; I am going for the doctor."
+
+"Oh, Miss Ruth, ain't you afraid?  It's a awful night, and black as pitch,
+and you all alone?" asked one, with wide, frightened eyes.
+
+"I am not afraid," said the girl, a great calmness in her voice as she
+spoke above her mother's sobbing; "stay and try to quiet her.  I shall not
+be gone long."
+
+She flew into her room, drew on her overshoes and mackintosh, grasped a
+sealskin hood, which she tied securely under her chin, and went out into
+the howling, raging night.
+
+She had but a few blocks to go, but under ordinary circumstances the
+undertaking would have been disagreeable enough.  The rain came down in
+heavy, wild torrents; the wind roared madly, wrapping her skirts around her
+limbs and making walking almost an impossibility; the darkness was
+impenetrable save for the sickly, quavering light shed by the few
+street-lamps, as far apart as angel visitants.  Lowering her head and
+keeping her figure as erect as possible, she struggled bravely on.  She met
+scarcely any one, and those she did meet occasioned her little uneasiness
+in the flood of unusual emotions that overwhelmed her soul.  At any other
+time the thought of her destination would have blotted out every other
+perception; now this was but one of many shuddering visions.  Trouble was
+making her hard; life could offer her little that would find her unequal to
+the test.  Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark, imposing
+mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havocking elements.  The
+rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced it unflinchingly as a
+small part of her trials.  Without a tremor she ran up Dr. Kemp's steps.
+It was only when she stood with her finger on the bell-button that she
+realized whom she was about to encounter.  Then for the first time she gave
+one long sob of self-recollection, and pushed the button.
+
+Burke almost immediately opened the door.  Ruth had no intention of
+entering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home.
+
+"Who's there?" asked Burke, peering out into the darkness.  "It's a divil
+of a night for any one but--"
+
+"Is Dr. Kemp in?"  The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he opened the
+door wide.
+
+"Come in, mum," he said apologetically; "come in out of the night."
+
+"No.  Is the doctor in?"
+
+"I don't know," he grumbled, "and I can't stand here with the door open."
+
+"Close it, then, but see if he is in, please."
+
+"I'll lave it open, and ye can come in or stay out according if ye are
+dry-humored or wet-soled;" and he shuffled off.  The door was open!  Her
+father had assured her of this once long ago.  Inside were warmth and
+light; outside, in the shadow, were cold and darkness.  Here she stood.
+Would the man never return?  Ah, here he came hurrying along; she drew
+nearer the door; within a half-foot she stood still with locked jaw and
+swimming senses.
+
+"My good woman," said the grave, kindly voice which calmed while it
+unnerved her, "come in and speak to me here.  Am I wanted anywhere?  Come
+in, please; the door must be closed."
+
+With almost superhuman will she drew herself together and came closer.
+Seeing the dark, moving figure, he opened the door wide, and she stepped
+in; then as it closed she faced him, turning up her white, haggard face to
+his.
+
+"You!"
+
+He recoiled as if stunned, but quickly recovered himself.
+
+"What trouble has brought you to me?" he cried.
+
+"My mother," she replied in a low, stifled voice, adding almost instantly
+in a distant and formal tone, "can you come at once?  She is suffering with
+hysteria and calls you incessantly."
+
+He drew himself up and looked at her with a cold, grand air.  This girl had
+been the only woman who had signally affected his life; yet if her only
+recognition of it was this cold manner, he could command the same.
+
+"I will come," he replied, looking unbendingly, with steely gray eyes, into
+her white passionless face, framed in its dark hood.
+
+She bowed her head--further words were impossible--and turned to the door.
+
+He watched her tugging in blind stupefaction at the strange bolt, but did
+not move to her assistance.  Her head was bent low over the intricate
+thing; but it was useless, --it would not move, and she suddenly raised her
+eyes beseechingly to him; with a great revulsion of feeling he saw that
+they were swimming in tears.  His own lips trembled, and his heart gave a
+wild leap.  Then one of those unaccountable moods that sometimes masters
+the best swayed him strongly.
+
+She was alone with him there; he could keep her if he wished.  One look at
+her lovely, beloved face, and his higher manhood asserted itself.  He
+unlatched the door, and still holding it closed, said in a deferential
+tone, --
+
+"Will you not wait till I ring for my carriage?"
+
+"I would rather go at once."
+
+Nothing was left but for him to comply with her wishes; and as she walked
+out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized a vial from
+his office, and hurried after her.  At this juncture the storm was
+frightful.  Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectually to
+move on.  Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gusts
+carried his breath away.  In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, who
+was making small progress.
+
+"Will you take my arm?" he asked quietly.  "It will help you."
+
+She drew back in alarm.
+
+"There is no necessity," he indistinctly heard in the roar of the gale.
+
+He kept near enough to her, however, to see her.  All along this block of
+Van Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees; they
+tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind.  A violent gust almost
+took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly for Dr. Kemp
+to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back.  At the same moment, one of
+the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash upon them.  By a great
+effort he had turned and, holding her before him, received the greater blow
+upon his back.
+
+"Are you hurt?" he asked, bending his head so near her face that his short
+wet beard brushed her cheek.
+
+"No," she said, wresting herself from him; "I thank you--but you have hurt
+yourself."
+
+"You are mistaken," he said abruptly.  "Take my arm, please."
+
+He did not wait for her yea or nay; but drawing her arm through his, he
+strode on in silence, holding it closely pinioned against his heart.  When
+they reached the house, they were both white and breathless.  Nora opened
+the door for them.
+
+"Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!" she cried, wringing her hands as the doctor
+threw off his coat and hat; "all she does now is to stare at us with her
+teeth all chattering."
+
+The doctor sprang up three steps at a time, Ruth quickly following.
+
+The room was in a blaze of light; Mrs. Levice sat up in bed, her large dark
+eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowy counterpane.
+
+Kemp looked like a pillar of strength as he came up to the bedside.
+
+"Well?" he said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.
+
+As he took her hand in his, she strove to speak; but the sobbing result was
+painful.
+
+"None of that!" he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders.  "If you
+try, you can stop this.  Now see, I am holding you.  Look at me, and you
+will understand you must quiet down."
+
+He used his well-known power of magnetism.  Gradually the quivering
+shoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and he
+gently laid her head upon the pillow.
+
+"Don't go away!" she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move from
+her.
+
+"No, indeed," he replied in a bright, soothing voice; "see, I am going to
+give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in a short
+time.  Now then, open your mouth."
+
+"But, Doctor, I wish to speak to you."
+
+"After you have taken this and rested awhile."
+
+"And you won't go away?" she persisted.
+
+"I shall stay right here."  She obediently swallowed the dose; and as he
+drew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her face
+relaxed.
+
+"It is so strengthening to have you here," she murmured.
+
+"It will be more strengthening for you to close your eyes."
+
+Ruth, who still stood in her wet clothes, lowered the lights.
+
+"You had better change your clothes immediately," said Kemp, in a low tone
+from his chair.
+
+She did not look at him, but at his voice she left the room.
+
+Quickly removing her wet garments, she slipped into a loose, dull red gown.
+As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenly remembered that
+his feet might be wet.  She lit a candle, and going into Louis's room,
+appropriated a pair of slippers that stood in his closet.
+
+It was now past midnight; but no thought of sleep occurred to her till,
+entering her mother's room, she perceived in the semi-darkness that the
+doctor lay back with closed eyes.  He was not asleep, however, for he
+opened his eyes at her light footfall.  She looked very beautiful in her
+unconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness of her
+face.
+
+"Will you put them on?" she asked in a hushed voice, holding out the
+slippers.
+
+"You are very kind," he replied, looking with hungry eyes into her face.
+Seeing that he did not take them, she placed them on the carpet.  The
+action recalled him to himself, and wishing to detain her, he said, --
+
+"Do they belong to a man as big as I?"
+
+"They are my cousin's."
+
+She had half turned to leave.
+
+"Ah," he returned, "and will he relish the idea of my standing in his
+shoes?"
+
+No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth's thoughts gave one miserable
+bound to Arnold.
+
+"He will be pleased to add to your comfort," spoke Mrs. Levice from the
+bed, thus saving Ruth an answer.
+
+"I do not need them," said the doctor, turning to her swiftly; "and, Mrs.
+Levice, if you do not go to sleep, I shall leave."
+
+"I want Ruth to stay in the room," she murmured petulantly.
+
+"Very well, Mamma," said Ruth, wearily, seating herself in a low,
+soft-cushioned chair in a remote corner.  She knew how to sit perfectly
+still.  It was a peculiar situation, --the mother, who had been the means
+of drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and he and
+she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulf between
+them, sat there without a word.
+
+Ruth's temples throbbed painfully; she felt weak and tired; toward morning
+she sank into a heavy sleep.  Kemp did not sleep; he kept his face turned
+from her, trying to quiet his thoughts with the dull lullaby of the rain.
+But he knew when she slept; his gaze wandered searchingly around the room
+till it fell upon a slumber-robe thrown across a divan.  He arose softly
+and picked it up; his light step made no sound in the soft carpet.  As he
+came up to Ruth, he saw with an inward groan the change upon her sleeping
+face.  Great, dark shadows lay about her eyes not caused by the curling
+lashes; her mouth drooped pathetically at the corners; her temples, from
+which her soft hair was rolled, showed the blue veins; he would have given
+much to touch her hair with his hand, but he laid the cover over her
+shoulders without touching her, and tucked it lightly about her knees and
+feet.  Then he went back to his chair.  It was five o'clock before either
+mother or daughter opened her eyes; they started up almost simultaneously.
+Ruth noticed the warm robe about her, and her eyes sped to the doctor.  He,
+however, was speaking to Mrs. Levice, who in the dim light looked pale but
+calm.
+
+"I feel perfectly well," she was saying, "and shall get up immediately."
+
+"Where is the necessity?" he inquired.  "Lie still to-day; it is not bad
+weather for staying in bed."
+
+"Did not Ruth tell you?"
+
+"Tell me?" he repeated in surprise.
+
+"Of the cause of this attack?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then I must.  Briefly, my husband has been in New York for the past five
+weeks; he suffered there with acute pneumonia for a week, told us nothing,
+but hurried home as soon as possible, --too soon, I suppose.  Day before
+yesterday my nephew received a letter stating these facts, and, later, a
+telegram asking him to come to Reno, where he was delayed, feeling too ill
+to go farther alone.  The first I heard of this was last night, when Ruth
+received this telegram from Louis."  She handed it to him.
+
+As Kemp read, an unmistakable gravity settled on his face.  As he was
+folding the paper thoughtfully, Mrs. Levice addressed him again in her
+unfamiliar, calm voice, --
+
+"Will you please explain what he means by your understanding?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose it is expedient for me to tell you at once," he said
+slowly, reseating himself and pausing as if trying to recall something.
+
+"Last year," he began, "probably as early as February, your husband came to
+me complaining of a cough that annoyed him nights and mornings; he further
+told me that when he felt it coming, he went to another apartment so as not
+to disturb you.  I examined him, and found he was suffering with the first
+stages of asthma, and that one of his lungs was slightly diseased already.
+I treated him and gave him directions for living carefully.  You knew
+nothing of this?"
+
+"Nothing," she answered hoarsely.
+
+"Well," he went on gently, "there was no cause for worry; if checked in
+time, a man may live to second childhood with asthma, and the loss of a
+small portion of a lung is not necessarily fatal.  He knew this, and was
+mending slowly; I examined him several times and found no increase in the
+loss of tissue, while he told me the cough was not so troublesome."
+
+"But for some weeks before he left," said Mrs. Levice, "he coughed every
+morning and night.  When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed me
+out of the idea.  How did you find him before he left?"
+
+"I have not seen Mr. Levice for some months," he replied gravely.
+
+Mrs. Levice eyed him questioningly, but he offered no explanation.
+
+"Then do you think," she continued, "that this asthma made the pneumonia
+more dangerous?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of her
+voice and aspect remained unbroken.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "for telling me so candidly.  Then will you be here
+to-morrow morning?"
+
+"I shall manage to meet him at Oakland with a closed carriage."
+
+"May I go with you?"
+
+"Pardon me; but it will be best for you to receive him quietly at home.
+There must be nothing whatever to disturb him.  Have all ready, especially
+yourself."
+
+"I understand," she said.  "And now, Doctor, let me thank you for your
+kindness to me;" she held out both hands.  "Will you let Ruth show you to a
+room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?"
+
+"I thank you; it is impossible," he replied, looking at his watch.  "I
+shall hurry home now.  Good-morning, Mrs. Levice.  There may be small cause
+for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the more you can
+help him."
+
+He turned from her.
+
+"Ruth, will you see the doctor to the door?"
+
+She followed him down the broad staircase, as in former days, but with a
+difference.  Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, and they
+had descended together, talking pleasantly.  Now not a word was said till
+he had put on his heavy outer coat.  As he laid his hand on the knob, Ruth
+spoke, --
+
+"Is there anything I can do for my father, do you think?"
+
+She started as he turned a tired, haggard face to hers.
+
+"I can think of nothing but to have his bed in readiness and complete quiet
+about the house."
+
+"Yes; and--and do you think there is any danger?"
+
+"No, no! at least, I hope not.  I shall be able to tell better when I see
+him.  Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the light of
+his tender eyes.  He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed it quickly
+behind him.
+
+
+Chapter XXIV
+
+The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco this
+Thursday morning.  After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a day in
+spring.  Young girls tripped forth "in their figures," as the French have
+it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genial wooing of
+sunbeams.
+
+Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion.  Neither Ruth nor her mother
+felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her position in her
+husband's room, Ruth wandered downstairs.  The silence seemed vocal with
+her fears.
+
+"So I tell ye's two," remarked the cook as her young mistress passed from
+the kitchen, "that darter and father is more than kin, they is soul-kin, if
+ye know what that means; an' the boss's girl do love him more'n seven times
+seven children which such a man-angel should 'a' had."  For the "boss" was
+to those who served him "little lower than the angels;" and their prayers
+the night before had held an eloquent appeal for his welfare.
+
+Ruth, with her face against the window, watched in sickening anxiety.  She
+knew they were not to be expected for some time, but it was better to stand
+here than in the fear-haunted background.
+
+Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stood before
+the gate.  She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned for one second
+blindly against the wall.
+
+"Tell my mother they have come," she gasped to the maid, who had entered
+the hall.
+
+Then she looked out.  Two men were carrying one between them up the walk.
+As they came nearer, she saw how it was.  That bundled-up figure was her
+father's; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father's; but as they
+carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, panting breaths
+came to her, were they her father's too?  No need, Ruth, to rush forward
+and vainly implore some power to tear from yourself the respiration
+withheld from him.  Air, air!  So, man, so; one step more and then relief.
+Ah!
+
+She paused in agony at the foot of the stairs as the closing door shut out
+the dreadful sound.  We never value our blessings till we have lost them;
+who thinks it a boon to be able to breathe without thinking of the action?
+
+He had not seen her; his eyes had been closed as if in exhaustion as they
+gently helped him along,  and she had understood at once that the only
+thing to be thought of was, by some manner of means, to remove the choaking
+obstacle from his lungs.  Oh, to be able in her young strength to hold the
+weak, loved form in her arms and breathe into him her overflowing
+life-breath!  She walked upstairs presently; he would be expecting her.  As
+she reached the upper landing, Kemp came from the room, closing the door
+behind him.  His bearing revealed a gravity she had never witnessed before.
+In his tightly buttoned morning-suit, with the small white tie at his
+throat, he might have been officiating at some solemn ceremonial.  He stood
+still as Ruth confronted him at the head of the stairs, and met her lovely,
+miserable eyes with a look of sympathy.  She essayed to speak, but
+succeeded only in gazing at him in speechless entreaty.
+
+"Yes, I know," he responded to her silent appeal; "you were shocked at what
+you heard: it was the asthma that has completely overpowered him.  His
+illness has made him extremely weak."
+
+"And you think--"
+
+"We must wait till he has rested; the trip was severe for one in his
+condition."
+
+"Tell me the truth, please, with no reservations; is there danger?"
+
+Her eager, abrupt questions told clearly what she suffered.
+
+"He has never had any serious illness; if the asthma has not overleaped
+itself, we have much to hope for."
+
+The intended consolation conveyed a contrary admission which she
+immediately grasped.
+
+"That means--the worst," she said, her clasped fingers speaking the
+language of despair.  "Oh, Doctor, you who know so much, can't you help
+him?  Think, think of everything; there must be something!  Only do your
+best, do your utmost; you will, won't you?"
+
+His deep, grave eyes answered her silently as he took both her little
+clasped hands in his one strong one, saying simply, --
+
+"Trust me, but only so far as lies within my human power.  He is somewhat
+eased, and asks for you.  Look at your mother: she is surpassing herself;
+if your love for him can achieve one half such a conquest, you will but be
+making good your inheritance.  I shall be in again at one, and will send
+some medicines up at once."  He ended in his usual businesslike tone, and
+walked hastily downstairs.
+
+There was perfect quiet in the room as Ruth entered.  Propped high by many
+pillows, Jules Levice lay in his bed; his wife's arm was about him; his
+head rested on her bosom; with her one disengaged hand she smoothed his
+white hair.  Never was the difference between them more marked than now,
+when her beautiful face shone above his, which had the touch of the
+destroyer already upon it; never was the love between them more marked than
+now, when he leaned in his weakness upon her who had never failed him in
+all their wedded years.
+
+His eyes were half closed as if in rest; but he heard her enter, and Mrs.
+Levice felt the tremor that thrilled him as Ruth approached.
+
+"My child."
+
+The softly whispered love-name of old made her tremble; she smiled through
+her tears, but when his feeble arms strove to draw her to him, she stooped,
+and laying them about her neck, placed her cheek upon his.  For some
+minutes these three remained knit in a close embrace; love, strong and
+tender, spoke and answered in that silence.
+
+"It is good to be at home," he said, speaking with difficulty.
+
+"It was not home without you, dear," murmured his wife, laying her lips
+softly upon his forehead.  Ruth, kneeling beside the bed, noticed how
+loosely the dark signet-ring he wore hung upon his slender finger.
+
+"You look ill, my Ruth," he said, after a pause.  "Lay my head down, Esther
+love; you must be tired.  Sit before me, dear, I want to see your two faces
+together."
+
+His gaunt eyes flitted from one to the other.
+
+"It is a fair picture to take with one," he whispered.
+
+"To keep with one," softly trembled his wife's voice; his eyes met hers in
+a commiserating smile.
+
+Suddenly he started up.
+
+"Ruth," he gasped, "will you go to Louis?  He must be worn out."
+
+She left the room hurriedly.  Her faint knock was not immediately answered,
+and she called softly; receiving no reply, she turned the knob, which
+yielded to her hand.  Sunbeams danced merrily about the room of the young
+man, who sat in their light in a dejected attitude.  He evidently had made
+no change in his toilet; and as Ruth stood unnoticed beside him, her eyes
+wandered over his gray, unshaven face, travel-stained and weary to a
+degree.  She laid her hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Louis," she called gently.
+
+He shook under her touch, but made no further sign that he knew of her
+presence.
+
+"You must be so tired, Louis," she continued sympathetically.
+
+It may have been the words, it may have been the tone, it may have been
+that she touched some hidden thought, for suddenly, without premonition,
+his breast heaved, and he sobbed heavily as only a man can sob.
+
+She started back in pain.  That such emotion could so unstring Louis Arnold
+was a marvel.  It did not last long; and as he rose from his chair he spoke
+in his accustomed, quiet tone.
+
+"Forgive my unmanliness," he said; "it was kind of you to come to me."
+
+"You look very ill, Louis; can't I bring you something to refresh you, or
+will you lie down?"
+
+"We shall see; is there anything you wish to ask me?
+
+"Nothing."
+
+After a pause he said, --
+
+"You must not be hopeless; he is in good hands, and everything that can be
+done will be done.  Is he resting now?"
+
+"Yes; if to breathe like that is to rest.  Oh, Louis, when I think how for
+months he has suffered alone, it almost drives me crazy."
+
+"Why think of it, then?  Or, if you must, remember that in his surpassing
+unselfishness he saved you much anxiety; for you could not have helped
+him."
+
+"Not with our sympathy?"
+
+"Not him, Ruth; to know that you suffered for him was--would have been his
+crowning sorrow.  Is there anything I can do now?"
+
+"No, only think of yourself for a moment; perhaps you can rest a little,
+for you need it, dear."
+
+A flame of color burned in his cheek at the unusual endearment.
+
+"I shall bring you a cup of tea presently," she said as she left him.
+
+The morning passed into afternoon.  Silence hung upon the house.  A card
+had been pinned under the door-bell; and the many friends, who in the short
+time since the sick man's arrival had heard of his illness, dropped in
+quietly and left as they came.
+
+Dr. Kemp came in after luncheon.  Mr. Levice was sleeping, --in all truth,
+one could say easily, but the doctor counted much from the rest.  He
+expected Dr. H----- for a consultation.  This he had done as a voucher and
+a sort of comforting assurance that nothing would be left undone.  Dr.
+H----- came in blandly; he went out gravely.  There was little to be said.
+
+Kemp walked thoughtfully upstairs after his colleague had left, and went
+straight to Arnold's room.  the freedom of the house was his; he seemed to
+have established himself here simply through his earnestness and devotion.
+
+"Mr. Arnold," he said to the Frenchman, who quickly rose from his desk, "I
+want you to prepare your aunt and your cousin for the worst.  You know
+this; but if he should have a spell of coughing, the end might be sudden."
+
+A cold pallor overspread Louis's face at the confirmation of his secret
+fears.
+
+He bowed slightly and cleared his throat before answering.
+
+"There will be no necessity," he said; "my uncle intends doing so himself."
+
+"He must not hasten it by excitement," said Kemp, moving toward the door.
+
+"That is unavoidable," returned Arnold.  "You must know he had an object in
+hurrying home."
+
+"I did not know; but I shall prevent any unnecessary effort to speak.  If
+you can do this for him, will you not?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"And you know what it is in detail?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Then for his sake --"
+
+"And for the others, he must be allowed to speak."
+
+Kemp regarded him steadily, wondering wherein lay the impression of
+concealed power which emanated from him.  He left the room without another
+word.
+
+"Dr. H----- must have gone to school with you," panted Levice, as Dr. Kemp
+entered; "even his eyes have been educated to express the same feeling;
+except for a little --"
+
+"There, there," quieted Kemp; "don't exhaust yourself.  Miss Levice, that
+fan, please.  A little higher?  How's that?"
+
+"Do not go, Doctor," he said feebly; "I have something to say, to do, and
+you--I want you--give me something--I must say it now.  Esther, where are
+you?"
+
+"Here, love."
+
+"Mr. Levice, you must not talk now," put in Kemp, authoritatively;
+"whatever you have to say will last till morning."
+
+"And I?"
+
+"And you.  Now go to sleep."
+
+Mrs. Levice followed him to the door.
+
+"You spoke just now of a nurse," she said through her pale lips; "I shall
+not want one: I alone can nurse him."
+
+"There is much required; I doubt if you are strong enough."
+
+"I am strong."
+
+He clasped her hand in assent; he could not deny her.
+
+"I shall come in and stay with you to-night," he said simply.
+
+"You.  Why should you?"
+
+"Because I too love him."
+
+Her mouth trembled and the lines of her face quivered, but she drew her
+hand quickly over it.
+
+Kemp gave one sharp glance over to the bed; Ruth had laid her head beside
+her father's and held his hand.  In such a house, in every Jewish house,
+one finds the best nurses in the family.
+
+
+Chapter XXV
+
+Shafts of pale sunlight darted into the room and rested on Mr. Levice's
+hair, covering it with a silver glory, --they trailed along the silken
+coverlet, but stopped there; one little beam strayed slowly, and almost as
+if with intention, toward Arnold, seated near the foot of the bed.  Ruth,
+lovely in her pallor, sat near him; Mrs. Levice, on the other side of the
+bed, leaned back in her chair placed close to her husband's pillow; more
+remote, though inadvertently so, sat Dr. Kemp.  It was by Mr. Levice's
+desire that these four had assembled here.
+
+He was sitting up, supported by many pillows; his face was hollow and
+colorless; his hands lay listlessly upon the counterpane.  No one touches
+him; bathed in sunlight, as he was, the others seemed in shadow.  When he
+spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, but it was distinctly audible to the
+four intent listeners; only the clock seemed to accompany his staccato
+speech, running a race, as it were, with his failing strength.
+
+"It is a beautiful world," he said dreamily, "a very beautiful world;" the
+sunbeams kissed his pale hands as if thanking him; no one stirred, letting
+the old man take his time.  Finally he realized that all were waiting for
+him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face.
+
+"Dr. Kemp," he began, "I have something to say to you, --to you in
+particular, and to my daughter Ruth.  My wife and nephew know in brief what
+I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful event that
+happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see the
+necessity, for my reverting to it at all."
+
+Every one's eyes rested upon him, --that is, all but Arnold's, which seemed
+holding some secret communion with the cupids on the ceiling, --and the
+look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth's face was unnoticed.
+
+"In all my long, diversified life," he went on, "I had never suffered as I
+did after she told me her decision, --for in all those years no one had
+ever been made to suffer through me; that is, so far as I knew.
+Unconsciously, or in anger, I may have hurt many, but never, as in this
+case, with knowledge aforethought, --when the blow fell upon my own child.
+You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave no thought to
+you.  She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands held out, and with
+a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, 'Father, you are right; I could not be
+happy with this man.'  At the moment I believed her, thinking she had
+adopted my views; but with all her bravery, her real feelings conquered
+her, and I saw.  Not that she had spoken untruly, but she had implied the
+truth only in part, I knew my child loved me, and she meant honestly that
+my pain would rob her of perfect happiness with you, --my pain would form
+an eclipse strong enough to darken everything.  Do you think this knowledge
+made me glad or proud?  Do you know how love, that in the withholding
+justifies itself, suffers from the pain inflicted?  But I said, 'After all,
+it is as I think; she will thank me for it some day.'  I was not altogether
+selfish, please remember.  Then, as I saw her silent wrestling, came
+distrust of myself; I remembered I was pitted against two, younger and no
+more fallible than myself.  As soon as doubt of myself attacked me, I
+strove to look on the other side; I strove to rid myself of the old
+prejudices, the old superstitions, the old narrowness of faith; it was
+useless, --I was too old, and my prejudices had become part of me.  It was
+in this state of perturbation that I had gone one day up to the top floor
+of the Palace Hotel.  Thank you, Doctor."
+
+The latter had quietly risen and administered a stimulant.  As he resumed
+his seat, Levice continued:
+
+"I was seated at a window overlooking Market Street.  Below me surged a
+black mass of crowding, jostling, hurrying beings, so far removed they
+seemed like little dots, each as large and no larger than his fellows.
+Above them stretched the same blue arch of heaven, they breathed the same
+air, trod in each other's footsteps; and yet I knew they were all so
+different, --ignorance walked with enlightenment, vice with virtue, rich
+with poor, low with high, --but I felt, poised thus above them, that they
+were creatures of the same God.  Go once thus, and you will understand the
+feeling.  And so I judged these aliens.  Which was greater; which was less?
+This one, who from birth and inheritance is able to stand the equal of any
+one, or this one, who through birth and inheritance blinks blindly at the
+good and beautiful?  Character and circumstance are not altogether of our
+own making; they are, to a great degree, results of inherited tendencies
+over which we have no control, --accidents of birthplace, in the choosing
+of which we had no voice.  The high in the world do not shine altogether by
+their own light, not do the lowly grovel altogether in their own
+debasement, --I felt the excuse for humanity.  I was overwhelmed with one
+feeling, --only God can weigh such circumstantial evidence; we, in our
+little knowledge of results, pronounce sentence, but final judgment is
+reserved for a higher court, that sees the cross-purposes in which we are
+blindly caught.  So with everything.  Below me prayed Christian and Jew,
+Mohammedan and Brahmin, idolater and agnostic.  Why was one man different
+in this way from his fellows?  Because he was born so, because his parents
+were so, because he was bred so, because it seemed natural and convenient
+to remain so, --custom and environment had made his religion.  Because
+Jesus Christ dared to attack their existing customs and beliefs, the Jews,
+then powerful, first reviled, then feared, then slew him; because the Jews
+could not honestly say, 'I believe this man to be a God,' they were hurled
+from their eminence and dragged, living, for centuries in the dust.  And
+yet why?  Because God withheld and still withholds from this little band
+the power of believing in Christ as his son.  Christians call this a wilful
+weakness; Jews call it strength.  After all, who is to be praised or blamed
+for it?  God.  Then instead of beating the Jew, and instead of sneering at
+the Christian, let each pity the other; because one, I know not which, is
+weak, and because the other, I know not which, is strong.  I left the
+building; I came upon the street.  I felt like saluting every one as my
+brother.  A little ragged child touched me, and as I laid my hand upon her
+curly head, the thrill of humanity shot through me.
+
+"It was not until I went to New York that the feelings I then experienced
+took on a definite shape.  There, removed from my old haunts, I wandered
+alone when I could.  Then I thought of you, my friend, of you, my child,
+and beside you I was pitiful, --pitiful, because in my narrowness I had
+thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishing restriction.  I resolved
+to be practical; I have been accused of being a dreamer.  I grasped your
+two images before me and drew parallels.  Socially each was as high as the
+other.  Mentally the woman was as strong in her sphere as the man was in
+his.  Physically both were perfect types of pure, healthy blood.  Morally
+both were irreproachable.  Religiously each held a broad love for God and
+man.  I stood convicted; I was in the position of a blind fool who, with a
+beautiful picture before him, fastens his critical, condemning gaze upon a
+rusting nail in the rusting wall behind, --a nail even now loosened, and
+which in another generation will be displaced.  Yet what was I to do?  Come
+back and tell you that I had been needlessly cruel?  What would that avail?
+True, I might make you believe that I no longer thought marriage between
+you wrong; but that would not remove the fact that the world, which so
+easily makes us happy or otherwise, did not see as I saw.  In this vortex I
+was stricken ill.  All the while I wanted to hasten to you, to tell you how
+it was with me, and it seemed as if I never could get to you.  'Is this
+Nemesis,' I thought, 'or divine interposition?'  So I struggled till Louis
+came.  Then all was easier.  I told him everything and said, 'Louis, what
+shall I do?' "only this,' he answered simply: 'tell them that their happy
+marriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the world will be as
+nothing to these two who love each other.'"
+
+The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the coverlet
+and gave a leap upon Louis's shoulder like an angle's finger, but his gaze
+remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling.  Ruth had covered her face
+with her hands.  Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with her eyes on Louis.
+Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting Levice's eyes.
+
+"I believe--and my wife believes," said Levice, heavily, as if the words
+were so many burdens, "that our child will be happy only as your wife, and
+that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this happiness.
+Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter.  Ruth!"
+
+She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
+
+"Little one," he faltered, "I have been very cruel in my ignorance."
+
+"Do not think of this, Father," she whispered.
+
+"I must," he said, taking her hand in his.  "Kemp, your hand, please."
+
+He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as Kemp's
+large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his head,
+kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
+
+"There is one thing more," he said.  "At the utmost I have but a few days
+to live.  I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my Ruth, as
+I have often pictured you.  Ah, well, darling, a father may be permitted
+sweet dreams of his only child.  You have always been a good girl, and now
+I am going to ask you to do one thing more--you also, Doctor.  Will you be
+married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless your new life?  Will
+you let me see this?  And listen, --will you let the world know that you
+were married with my sanction, and did not have to wait till the old man
+was dead?  Will you do this for me, my dear ones?"
+
+"Will you, Ruth?" asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
+
+Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father's eager eyes.
+
+"I will," she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room
+made it audible.
+
+Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
+
+"Always doing things for her ugly old father," he murmured; "this time
+giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love."
+
+"Oh, hush, my darling."
+
+"You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would like
+to have."
+
+"I think not," he decided, noting with a pang the pale, weary face of
+Levice; "we will have it all as quiet as possible.  You must rest now, and
+leave everything to me.  Would you prefer Dr. Stephens or a justice?"
+
+"Either.  Dr. Stephens is a good man, whom I know, however; and one good
+man with the legal right is as good as another to marry you."
+
+There was little more said then.  Kemp turned to Mrs. Levice and raised her
+hand to his lips.  Arnold confronted him with a pale, smiling face; the two
+men wrung each other's hands, passing out together immediately after.
+
+
+Chapter XXVI
+
+Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice.  The
+latter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head lay
+back among the pillows as if the support were grateful.  Still his eager
+eyes were keenly fastened upon the close-lipped mouth and broad, speaking
+brow of the minister who spoke so quietly and pleasantly.  Kemp, looking
+pale and handsome, answered fitfully when appealed to, and kept an
+expectant eye upon the door.  When Ruth entered, he went forward to meet
+her, drawing her arm through his.  They had had no word together, no
+meeting of any kind but right here in the morning; and now, as she walked
+toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes was all for
+her father.  Thought could hold no rival for him that day.
+
+"This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens," said Kemp, presenting them.  A swift
+look of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman's beetle-brows as he
+bent over her hand.  Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughter of
+little Jules Levice?  Where did she get that pure Madonna face, that regal
+bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth?  The explanation was sufficient
+when Mrs. Levice entered.  They stood talking, not much, but in that
+wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking.  they were waiting
+for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of pale heliotropes.  He
+always looked well and in character when dressed for some social event; it
+was as if he were made for this style of dress, not the style for him.  The
+delicate pink of his cheeks looked more like the damask skin of a young
+girl than ever; his eyes, however, behind their glasses, were veiled.  As
+he handed Ruth the flowers, he said, --
+
+"I asked the doctor to allow me to give you these.  Will you hold them with
+my love?"
+
+"They are both very dear to me," she replied, raising the flowers to her
+lips.
+
+Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was being
+performed.  It was a striking picture, and one not likely to be forgotten.
+Levice's eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as he looked at his
+daughter, --for never had she looked as to-day in her simple white gown,
+her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream; standing next to Kemp, the
+well-mated forms were noticeable.  Even Arnold, with his heart like a
+crushed ball of lead, acknowledged it in bitter resignation.  For him the
+scene was one of those silent, purgatorial moments that are approached with
+senses steeled and thought held in a vice.  To the others it passed, as if
+it had happened in a dream.  Even when Kemp stooped and pressed his lips
+for the first time upon his wife's, the real meaning of what had taken
+place seemed far away to Ruth; the present held but one thing in
+prominence, --the pale face upon the pillow.  She felt her mother's arms
+around her; she knew that Louis had raised her hand to his lips, that she
+had drawn his head down and kissed him, that Dr. Kemp was standing silently
+beside her, that the minister had spoken some gravely pleasant words; but
+all the while she wanted to tear herself away from it all and fold that
+eager, loving, dying face close to hers.  She was allowed to do so finally;
+and when she was drawn into the outstretched arms, there was only the long
+silence of love.
+
+Kemp had left the room with Dr. Stephens, having a further favor to intrust
+to him.  The short announcement of this marriage, which Dr. Stephens gave
+for insertion in the evening papers, created a world of talk.
+
+When Kemp re-entered, Levice called him to him, holding out his hand.  The
+doctor grasped it in that firm clasp which was always a tonic.
+
+"Will you kneel?" asked Levice; Kemp knelt beside his wife, and the old
+father blessed them in the words that held a double solemnity now: --
+
+"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
+
+"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.
+
+"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace.'"
+
+"I think if you don't mind, dear, I shall close my eyes now," he said as
+they arose.
+
+Ruth moved about, closing the blinds.
+
+"Don't close out all the sun," said her father; "I like it, --it is an old
+friend.  After all, I don't think I'll sleep; let me lie here and look at
+you all awhile.  Louis, my boy, must you go?"
+
+"Oh, no," he replied, turning back from the door and gliding into a chair.
+
+"Thank you; and now don't think of me.  Go on talking; it will be a
+foretaste of something better to lie here and listen.  Esther, are you
+cold?  I felt a shudder go through your hand, love.  Ruth, give your mother
+a shawl; don't forget that sometimes some one should see that your mother
+is not cold.  Just talk, will you?"
+
+So they talked, --that is, the men did.  Their grave, deep voices and the
+heavily breathing of the invalid were the only sounds in the room.
+Finally, as the twilight stole in, it was quite still.  Levice had dropped
+into a sort of stupor.  Kemp arose then.
+
+"I shall be back presently," he said, addressing Mrs. Levice, who started
+perceptibly as he spoke.  "I have some few directions to give to my man
+that I entirely forgot."
+
+"Could not we send some one?  You must not stay away now."
+
+"I shall return immediately.  Mr. Levice does not need me while he sleeps,
+and these instructions are important.  Don't stir, Arnold; I know my way
+out."
+
+Nevertheless Arnold accompanied him to the door.  Ruth gave little heed to
+their movements.  Her agitated heart had grasped the fact that the lines
+upon her father's face had grown weaker and paler, his breathing shorter
+and more rasping; when she passed him and touched his hand, it seemed cold
+and lifeless.
+
+At nine the doctor came in again; the only appreciable difference in his
+going or coming was that no one rose or made any formal remarks.  He went
+up to the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping head.  Mrs. Levice moved
+her chair slightly as he seated himself on the edge of the bed and took
+Levice's hand.  Ruth, watching him with wide, distended eyes, thought he
+would never drop it.  Her senses, sharpened by suffering, read every change
+on his face.  As he withdrew his hand, she gave one long, involuntary moan.
+He turned quickly to her.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, his grave eyes scanning her anxiously.
+
+"Nothing," she responded.  It was the first word she had spoken to him
+since the afternoon ceremony.  He turned back to Levice, lowering his ear
+to his chest.  After a faint, almost imperceptible pause he arose.
+
+"I think you had all better lie down," he said softly.  "I shall sit with
+him, and you all need rest."
+
+"I could not rest," said Mrs. Levice; "this chair is all I require."
+
+"If you would lie on the couch here," he urged, "you would find the
+position easier."
+
+"No, no!  I could not."
+
+He looked at Ruth.
+
+"I shall go by and by," she answered.
+
+Arnold had long since gone out.
+
+Ruth's by and by stretched on interminably.  Kemp took up the "Argonaut"
+that lay folded on the table.  He did not read much, his eyes straying from
+the printed page before him to the "finis" writing itself slowly on Jules
+Levice's face, and thence to Ruth's pale profile; she was crying, --so
+quietly, though, that but for the visible tears an onlooker might not have
+known it; she herself did not, --her heart was silently overflowing.
+
+Toward morning Levice suddenly sprang up in bed and made as if to leap upon
+the floor.  Kemp's quick, strong hand held him back.
+
+"Where are you going?" he asked.  Mrs. Levice stood instantly beside him.
+
+"Oh," gasped Levice, his eyes falling upon her, "I wanted to get home; but
+it is all right now.  Is the child in bed, Esther?"
+
+"Here she is; lie still, Jules; you know you are ill."
+
+"But not now.  Ah, Kemp, I can get up now; I am quite well, you know."
+
+"Wait till morning," he resisted, humoring this inevitable idiosyncrasy.
+
+"But it is morning now; and I feel so light and well.  Open the shutters,
+Ruth; see, Esther; a beautiful day."
+
+It was quite dark with the darkness that immediately precedes dawn; the
+windows were bespangled with the distillations of the night, which gleamed
+as the light fell on them.
+
+Mrs. Levice seated herself beside him.
+
+"It is very early, Jules," she said, smiling with hope, not knowing that
+this deceptive feeling was but the rose-flush of the sinking sun; "but if
+you feel well when day breaks you can get up, can't he Doctor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Levice lay back with closed eyes for some minutes.  A quivering smile
+crossed his face and his eyes opened.
+
+"Were you singing that song just now, Ruth, my angel?"
+
+"What son, Father dear?"
+
+"That--'Adieu, --adieu--pays--amours'--we sang it--you know--when we left
+home together--my mother said--I was too small--too small--and--too--"
+
+Ruth looked around wildly for Kemp.  He had left the room; she must go for
+him.  As she came into the hall, she saw him and Louis hurriedly advancing
+up the corridor.  Seeing her, they reached her side in a breath.
+
+"Go," she whispered through pale lips; "he is breathing with that--"
+
+Kemp laid his hand upon her shoulder.
+
+"Stay here a second; it will be quite peaceful."
+
+She looked at him in agony and walked blindly in after Louis.
+
+He was lying as they had left him, with Mrs. Levice's hand in his.
+
+"Keep tight hold, darling," the rattling voice was saying.  "Don't take it
+off till--another takes it--it will not be hard then."  Suddenly he saw
+Louis standing pale and straight at the foot of the bed.
+
+"My good boy," he faltered, "my good boy, God will bless--" His eyes closed
+again; paler and paler grew his face.
+
+"Father!" cried Ruth in agony.
+
+He looked toward her smiling.
+
+"The sweetest word," he murmured; "it was--my glory."
+
+Silence.  A soul is passing; a simple, loving soul, giving no trouble in
+its passage; dropping the toils, expanding with infinity.  Not utterly
+gone; immortality is assured us in the hearts that have touched ours.
+
+Silence.  A shadow falls, and Jules Levice's work is done; and the first
+sunbeams crept about him, lay at his feet a moment, touched the quiet
+hands, fell on the head like a benediction, and rested there.
+
+
+Chapter XXVII
+
+I thought you would be quiet at this hour," said Rose Delano, seating
+herself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening after the
+funeral.  They looked so different even in the waning light, --Ruth in soft
+black, her white face shining like a lily above her sombre gown, Rose, like
+a bright firefly, perched on a cricket, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling
+from walking against the sharp, cold wind.
+
+"We are always quiet now," she answered softly; "friends come and go, but
+we are very quiet.  It does me good to see you, Rosebud."
+
+"Does it?" her sweet eyes smiled happily.  "I was longing to drop in if
+only to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where to
+find you."
+
+"Why, where could I be but here?"
+
+"I thought possibly you had removed to your husband's home."
+
+For a second Ruth looked at her wonderingly; then the slow rich color
+mounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was one rosy
+cloud.
+
+"No; I have stayed right on."
+
+"I saw the doctor to-day," she chatted.  "He looks pale; is he too busy?"
+
+"I do not know, --that is, I suppose so.  How are the lessons, Rose?"
+
+"Everything is improving wonderfully; I am so happy, dear Mrs. Kemp, and
+what I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, I
+pray, fall on you two who have been so much to me.  Miss Gwynne told me
+that to do good was your birthright.  She said that the funeral, with its
+vast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippled of
+all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those who
+thought they knew him best.  You should feel very proud with such sweet
+memories."
+
+"Yes," assented Ruth, her eyes quickly suffused with tears.
+
+They sat quietly thus for some time, till Rose, rising from her cricket,
+kissed her friend silently and departed.
+
+The waning light fell softly through the lace curtains, printing quaint
+arabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a rich yellow
+light.  A carriage rolled up in front of the house.  Dr. Kemp handed the
+reins to his man and alighted.  He walked slowly up to the door.  It was
+very still about the house in the evening twilight.  He pushed his hat back
+on his head and looked up at the clear blue sky, as if the keen breeze were
+pleasant to his temples.  Then with a quick motion, as though recalling his
+thoughts, he turned and rang the bell.  The latchkey of the householder was
+not his.
+
+Ruth, sitting in the shadows, had scarcely heard the ring.  She was
+absorbed in a new train of thought.  Rose Delano was the first one who had
+clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married.  She
+had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, looking at her
+grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would have called for
+congratulation.  Rose, who knew only these two, naturally dwelt on their
+changed relations.  Her husband!  Her dormant love gave an exultant bound.
+Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; she sprang to her feet; the
+door opened, and he came in.  He saw her standing faintly outlined in the
+dark.
+
+"Good-evening," he said, coming slowly toward her with extended hand; "have
+you been quite well to-day?"  He felt her fingers tremble in his close
+clasp, and let them fall slowly.  "Bob sent you these early violets.  Shall
+I light the gas?"
+
+"If you will."
+
+He turned from her and rapidly filled the room with light.
+
+"Where is your mother?" he asked, turning toward her again.  Her face was
+hidden in the violets.
+
+"Upstairs with Louis.  They had something to arrange.  Did you wish to see
+her?"  To judge from Ruth's manner, Kemp might have been a visitor.
+
+"No," he replied.  "If you will sit down, we can talk quietly till they
+come in."
+
+As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in another
+before her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face.  The
+faraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad days had
+been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong will every
+impulse for any closer recognition.  But this new look, --what did it mean?
+In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen to his own
+cheeks.
+
+"I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day," he observed; "shall I
+tell it to you?"
+
+"If it will not tire you."
+
+Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see the
+look of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him.
+
+"Oh, no," he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection.  "I was
+coming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached the foot,
+when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with an eager light
+in his eyes.   'Aren't you Dr. Kemp?' he asked breathlessly, like one who
+had been running.  I recollected him the instant he raised his hat from his
+nimbus of golden hair.  'Yes; and you are Will Tyrrell,' I answered
+promptly.  'Why, how did you remember?' he asked in surprise; 'you saw me
+only once.'  'Never mind; I remember that night,' I answered.  'How is that
+baby sister of yours?' "Oh, she's all right,' he replied dismissing the
+subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers.  'I say, do you ever see
+Miss Levice nowadays?'  I looked at him with a half-smile, not knowing
+whether to set him right or not, when he finally blurted out, 'She's the
+finest girl I ever met.  Do you know her well, Doctor?'  'Well,' I
+answered, 'I know her slightly, --she is my wife.'"
+
+He had told the little incident brightly; but as he came to the end, his
+voice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyes
+sought hers.  Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended.
+
+"I said you were my wife," he repeated softly, leaning forward, his hands
+grasping the chair-arms.
+
+"And what," asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice, --"what did
+Will say?"
+
+"Who cared?" he asked, quickly moving closer to her; "do you?"  He caught
+her hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingers
+with hers.
+
+"Ruth," he asked below his breath, "have you forgotten entirely what we are
+to each other?"
+
+It was such a cruel lover's act to make her face him thus, her bosom
+panting, her face changing from white to red and from red to white.
+
+"Have you, sweet love?" he insisted.
+
+"No," she whispered, trying to turn her head from him.
+
+"No, who?"
+
+With an irrepressible movement she sprang up, pushing his hand from hers.
+He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fear
+overpowering him.
+
+"You mean," he said quietly, "that you no longer love me, --say it now and
+have it over."
+
+"Oh," she cried in exquisite pain, "why do you tantalize me so--can't you
+see that--"
+
+She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drew her
+to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers.
+
+A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down.  Mrs. Levice entered first
+and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, saw too--nothing but
+Ruth standing encircled by her husband's arm; her lovely face smiled into
+his, which looked down at her with an expression that drove every drop of
+blood from Arnold's face.  For a moment they were unseen; but when Ruth,
+who was the first to feel their presence, started from Kemp as if she had
+committed a crime, Arnold came forward entirely at his ease.
+
+Kemp met Mrs. Levice with outstretched hands and smiling eyes.
+
+"Good-evening, Mother," he said; "we had just been speaking of you."  Mrs.
+Levice looked into his deep, tender eyes, and raising her arm, drew his
+head down and kissed him.
+
+Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it with shy,
+sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her.  Sorrow had
+softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, she wooed everybody
+by her manner.
+
+"What were you saying of me?" she asked, keeping Ruth's hand in hers and
+looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his face radiant
+with gladness.
+
+"We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great house to
+our little one, till we find something better."
+
+Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his back half
+turned, looking over a book.
+
+"It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now," she said, her voice
+trembling slightly; "but I never could leave this house to strangers,
+--every room is too full of old associations, and sweet memories of him.
+Louis wants me to go down the coast with him soon, stopping for a month or
+so at Coronado.  Go to your cottage meanwhile by yourselves; even I should
+be an intruder.  There, Ruth, don't I know?  And when we come back, we
+shall see.  It is all settled, isn't it, Louis?"
+
+He turned around then.
+
+"Yes, I feel that I need a change of scene, and I should like to have her
+with me; you do not need her now."
+
+Ruth looked at his careworn face, and said with tender solicitude, --
+
+"You are right, Louis."
+
+And so it was decided.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext:  Other Things Being Equal, by Emma Wolf
+
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