OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL

By Emma Wolf

Chapter I

A humming-bird dipped through the air and lit upon the palm-tree justbelow the open window; the long drowsy call of a crowing cock came fromafar off; the sun spun down in the subdued splendor of a hazy veil. Itwas a dustless, hence an anomalous, summer's afternoon in San Francisco. 

Ruth Levice sat near the window, lazily rocking, her long lithe armsclasped about her knees, her face a dream of the day. The seasons singleout their favorite moods: a violet of spring-time woos one, a dusky Junerose 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 withan obvious start a knock at the door. The knock was immediately followedby a smiling, plump young woman, sparkling of eye, rosy of cheek, andglistening with jewels and silk. 

"Here you are, Ruth, " she exclaimed, kissing her heartily; whereuponshe sank into a chair, and threw back her bonnet-strings with an air ofrelief. "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. Whyaren'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 goingout without me; it is only within the last few months that I have beenher companion. "

"I know, " replied her visitor, leaning back with a grim expression ofdisapproval, "and I think it the queerest arrangement I ever heardof. The idea of a father having the sole care of a daughter up to hertwenty-first birthday, and then delivering her, like a piece of jointproperty, over to her mother! Oh, I know that according to their lightsit 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 toundertake your training, and in this way your mother could more easilyindulge her love of society; but as it is, no wonder she is as jealousof your success in her realm as your father was in his; no wonder sheoverdoes things to make up for lost time. How do you like it, Ruth?"

"What?" softly inquired her cousin, slowly waving the dainty fan, whilea 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 wantto 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 applesof your mother's Utopia. But to come to the point, do you realize thatyour mother is very ill?"

"Ill--my mother?" The sudden look of consternation that scattered thesoft tranquillity of her face must have fully repaid Mrs. Lewis if shewas aiming at a sensation. 

"There, sit down. Don't be alarmed; you know she is out and apparentlywell. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Aunt Esther is nervous and hysterical. The other day at ourhouse she had such an attack of hysteria that I was obliged to call ina neighboring doctor. She begged us not to mention it to either ofyou, and then insisted on attending a meeting of some sort. However, Ithought it over and decided to let you know, as I consider it serious. Iwas afraid to alarm Uncle, so I thought of telling you. "

"Thank you, Jennie; I shall speak to Father about it. " The young girl'stone was quite unagitated; but two pink spots on her usually colorlesscheeks 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 allowingthis continual gayety, seems to have overlooked what we find so sadlyapparent. 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 donot hold services at receptions, wherein lies the difference?"

"There is a difference; and the Christians know it as well as we Jewishpeople. 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, Ialways feel as if they looked down on us, and I should like to prove tothem how we differ on that point. I have enough courage to let them knowI consider myself as good as the best of them. "

"Is that why you wear diamonds and silk on the street, Jennie?" askedRuth, her serious tones implying no impudence, but carrying a refinedreproach. 

"Hardly. I wear them because I have them and like them. I see no harm inwearing what is becoming. "

"But don't you think they look aggressive on the street? They attractattention; and one hates to be conspicuous. I think they are only inplace at a gathering of friends of one's own social standing, where theydo not proclaim one's moneyed value. "

"Perhaps, " replied Mrs. Lewis, her rosy face a little rosier thanbefore. "I suppose you mean to say it is vulgar; well, maybe so. But Iscarcely think a little outward show of riches should make others feelthey are better because they do not care to make a display. Besides, tobe less personal, I don't think any Christian would care to put himselfout 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 ofwhatever sect will recognize and honor the same quality in any otherman. 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 samebooks, are surrounded by the same elements of home refinement. Probablyif they had not been congenial, my father would long ago have ceased toassociate with them. I think the secret of it all is in the fact thatit never occurred to us that the most fastidious could think we wereanything but the most fastidious; and so we always met any one wedesired to meet on a level footing. I have a great many pleasant friendsin the court of your Philistines. "

"Possibly. But not having been brought up by your father, I thinkdifferently, and perhaps am different. Their ways are not my ways; andwhat 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 fromgoing to-night? Tell your father, and let him judge if you had betternot. "

"I really think Mamma would not care to go, for she said as much toFather; but, averse as he generally is to going out, he insists on ourgoing to-night, and, what is more, intends to accompany us, althoughLouis is going also. But if you think Mamma is seriously run down, Ishall 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 Norahas just handed me, before we consider you;" and Mrs. Levice softlydeposited a huge box upon Ruth's lace-enveloped bed. 

She was still bonneted and gloved, and with a slight flush in her clearolive cheek she looked like anything but a subject for fears. From thecrown of her dainty bonnet to the point of her boot she was the pictureof exquisite refinement; tall, beautifully formed, carrying her headlike a queen, gowned in perfect, quiet elegance, she appeared more likeRuth's older sister than her mother. 

"Ruth's gown for this evening, " she announced, deftly unfolding thewrappings. 

"Yellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Lewis, in surprise. 

"Corn-color, " corrected Mrs. Levice, playfully; "how do you think itwill suit my girlie?" She continued, shaking out the clinging silkencrepe. 

"Charmingly; but I thought Ruth objected to anything but white. "

"So she does; she thinks white keeps her unnoticed among the rest. Thistime, 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. Shehad hardly glanced at the gown, being engaged in a silent scrutiny ofher mother's face. 

"And how is my prime minister this afternoon?" Mrs. Levice was drawingoff 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 getsout 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 herill-boding tidings. None knew better than she of the great, silentlove that bound her parents. As a quiet, observant child, she had oftenquestioned wherein could be any sympathy between her father, almost old, studious, and reserved, and her beautiful, worldly young mother. Butas she matured, she became conscious that because of this apparentdisparity it would have been still stranger had Mrs. Levice not lovedhim with a feeling verging nearer humble adoration than any lowerpassion. It seemed almost a mockery for her to have to tell him he hadbeen negligent, --not only a mockery, but a cruelty. However, it hadto be done, and she was the only one to do it. Having come to thisconclusion, she ran quickly downstairs, and softly, without knocking, opened the library door. 

She entered so quietly that Mr. Levice, reading by the window, didnot glance from his book. She stood a moment regarding the smallthoughtful-faced, white-haired man. 

If one were to judge but by results, Jules Levice would be accounted afortunate man. Nearing the allotted threescore and ten, blessed witha loving, beloved wife and this one idolized ewe-lamb, surrounded byluxury, in good health, honored, and honorable, --trouble and travailseemed to have passed him by. But this scene of human happiness was theresult of intelligent and unremitting effort. A high state of earthlybeatitude has seldom been attained without great labor of mind or bodyby ourselves or those akin to us. Jules Levice had been thrown on theworld when a boy of twelve. He resolved to become happy. Many of us dolikewise; but we overlook the fact that we are provided with feet, notwings, and cannot fly to the goal. His dream of happiness was ambitious;it soared beyond contentment. Not being a lily of the field, he knewthat he must toil; any honest work was acceptable to him. He waspossessed 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, hebecame rich. This was but the nucleus of his ambitions, and it came tohim late in life, but not too late for him to build round it his happyhome, and to surround himself with the luxuries of leisure for attainingthe pinnacle of wide information that he had always craved. His wasmerely the prosperity of an intellectual, self-made man whose time forrest had come. 

Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laidher hand upon his. 

"You, darling?" He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked Frenchaccent. 

"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 thinkMother 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 shewishes to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of mydiscovery. "

"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 thisreception. "

"Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason, --one not to bespoken of. "

"'Those who trust us educate us, '" she pleaded in wistful earnestness. 

"Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would resistseeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to herdesires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctorwhom I would trust professionally with my wife's life, and on whom Ican rely for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of theirmeeting. 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 anold physician?"

"I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not oldcertainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally heis 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 himto 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 herown before a man whom I admire so heartily. "

"Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice, " shelaughed. 

"Only a friendly hint, " he answered, rising and putting his book in itsplace with the precision of a spinster. 

Chapter II

"This is what I call a worldly paradise!" A girl with a face like dearLady Disdain's sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voicechimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the softstrains of remote stringed instruments. 

"Is it a frivolous conceit?" she continued, laughing up to the man whostood beside her; "or do the soft light of many candles, faint music, radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also thatsuch a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?"

"You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothingcan be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full ofguests. "

"And leaving out the guests?"

"They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given thenecessary 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 thesoft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet. "

"Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy's definition of avacuum, --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 abad 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 listeningso eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder heinterests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal historyas a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as asocial city directory. "

"You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen aleaf from him?"

"Dr. Kemp!" she exclaimed in pouting reproach, "do I appear aspromiscuous as that? You may call me a 'blue book, ' but spare mysnobbery the opprobrious epithet of 'directory. ' There goes thefascinating young Mrs. Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Didyou catch the fine oratory of the glance she threw us? It said, 'DorothyGwynne, how dare you appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes? Hand himover; pass him around. I want him; you are only boring him, though youseem 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 occasionalbumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when hiscompanion 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 asRuth Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold. 

Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together theywere doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying hishead high, fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarlydistinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasizedslightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed. Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inchesshorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crownof his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short womenresented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoeto speak to him. 

There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy, colorless face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was looselyrolled from her forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brownbeneath delicately pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of herface. But the languorous air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in thesweet sympathy of her glance, and in a certain alertness about the poiseof her head. 

Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne's slight signal. 

"Where are you hastening?" she asked as they turned to greet her. "Onewould think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you tothe beauties scattered about. " She looked up pertly at Arnold, aftergiving 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, "Idid not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other groundthat it would have been cruelty to disturb you. " He spoke the languageslowly, as a stranger upon foreign ground. 

"Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Shebaand her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?" She paused a moment asthe parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke inrather breathlessly: "There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; donot 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 couldmurmur 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 andsee the orchids?" The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusionand 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 thegray eyes, to the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard, strength and gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore thestamp of a letter of credit. 

"Thank you, " said she; "I think I shall sit here. My cousin willprobably be back soon. "

The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne's appellation wasnot inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her moreconventional title. 

"This is a peaceful little corner, " he said. "Do you notice how removedit seems from the rest of the room?"

"Yes, " she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantlyquestioning look with one of swift resolve. "Dr. Kemp, I wish to tellyou that my father has confided to me your joint secret. "

"Your father?" he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen ofSheba's progenitors was vague. 

"My father, yes, " she repeated, smiling at his perplexity. "Our name isnot very common; I am Jules Levice's daughter. "

He was about to exclaim "NO!" The kinship seemed ridiculous in the faceof this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-facedJew. 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 thisbeautiful face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones heldan uncommon charm. 

"No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before theevening is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the 'shop' whichI have of a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seenany signs of illness in your mother?"

"No; I have been very blind and selfish, " she replied, somewhatbitterly, "for every one but me seems to have seen that something waswrong. She has been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fearhas been burning the candle at both ends for my light. I wish I hadknown--probably it lay just within my hand to prevent this, instead ofleading her on by my often expressed delight. What I wish to ask youis that if you find anything serious, you will tell me, and allay myfather's fears as much as possible. Please do this for me. My father isnot young; and I, I think, am trustworthy. "

She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking hercompanion full in the face. 

The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before heanswered. Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence. 

"That is a pact, " he said lightly; "but in all probability your father'sfears are exaggerated. "

"'Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears, '" she quoted, softly flushing. The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keepinghis eyes intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that madehis companion feel that they two were exclusively alone, --a sensationthat was slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance. By and by oneunderstood that it was merely his air of interest that evoked thefeeling, 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 toplay. 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 couldnot but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnoldin the light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after theopening chords. Rubenstein's Melody in F, played by a master-hand, isone long sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisiterapture. Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived inhis soul was magnificently interpreted. As he finished, there was not amurmur; and the next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle thatinstantly 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 wasabout to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman, stepped up to them, and laying her hand upon Ruth's shoulder, saidrather 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; willyou 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 alittle catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through theconservatory 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 doorafter them. 

"Stay there, " he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quitestill where he left her. Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chairwith 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, tillMrs. Levice began to sob in a frightened manner. 

"It's nothing at all, Jules, " she cried, trying to laugh and failinglamentably; "I--I'm only silly. "

"There, dear, don't talk. " Levice's face was white as he soothinglystroked her hair. 

"Oh!"

The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon hershoulders, motioned Levice aside. 

"Hush! Not a word!"

At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriekstopped halfway. 

"Be perfectly still, " he continued, holding her firmly. "Obey thisinstant, " as she began to whimper; "not a sound must I hear. "

Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger'smeasures. 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 almosthypnotically. The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowlyregained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained lookin her eyes melted. She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in responseto his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of hiscountenance. 

"That is well, " said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and stillkeeping his smiling eyes upon hers. "Now just close your eyes for aminute; 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, scarcelydaring to breathe. Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice toldthat she slept. 

Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, whichhisses, but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed thelightest sleeper. 

"Put your hand, palm up, under hers. I am going to withdraw my hand andretire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyesin 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!" Consciousnesswas 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 chairfor a few minutes as if dreaming. Suddenly she started up. 

"What thoughtless people we are! Let us go back to the drawing-room, orthey will think something dreadful has happened. "

"No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back. Stay here with Fatherwhile I get our wraps. "

Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room. As she turned inthe direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid uponher 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 thecarriage, Louis? We shall go immediately, but do not think of comingyourself. "

"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 worldsaid, and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-pointsin a life-history are dismissed. 

Chapter III

The Levices' house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an airof reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed housesthat faced it and hedged it in on both sides. But the broad, sweepinglawns, the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open pathto the veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, thelong French windows open this summer's morning to sun and air, told aninviting tale. 

As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he lookedaround approvingly. 

"Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm, " he mused as he rang thebell. 

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 theyentered. 

It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, butlarge and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs, a lounge or two, a woman's low rocker, an open piano, a few softengravings on the walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books onstands, books everywhere. Two long lace-draped windows let in a floodof searching sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in theremotest corner. It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess tokeep her house as clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirtmight be served upon her. 

"Will you not be seated?" asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latterstood 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 findas lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxietyor worry of any kind. It will be necessary to tell only me, and everyprecaution will be taken. "

Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the bruntof the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing itsecretly for some time. Probably a very united family, loving andunselfish doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in theface of the old gentleman's dignified appeal. 

"Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of myvisit?" 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. Juststep into the sitting-room a second, " and the precautious husband wentforward to his wife's bedroom, leaving the door open. 

Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the followingwords:--

"And being interested in nervous diseases, " the peculiarly low voice wassaying, "he told Father he would call and see you, --out of professionalcuriosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be often taken asyou 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 inthe city? Every one knows he has no time for curiosity. Nervous diseasesare his specialty; and do you think he would come without--"

"Being asked?" interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had rememberedthe flight of time, and walked in unannounced. 

"Keep your seat, " he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excitedblood springing to her cheeks. 

"You hardly need an introduction, Esther, " said Levice. "You rememberDr. Kemp from last night?"

"Yes. Don't go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn't you something to dodownstairs?"

Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her troublefrom his tender watchfulness? Great dark rings encircled her nowfeverishly bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drewaside, her mother's shaking fingers held tight to her hand. 

"I have nothing in the world to do, " replied Levice, heartily; "I amgoing 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. AsRuth relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantlyauthoritative gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, leftthe room. 

She descended a few steps to the windowed landing. Here she intendedjoining the doctor on his way down. Probably her father would followhim; but it was her intention to intercept any such plan. A fog hadarisen, and the struggling rosy beams of the sun glimmered opalescentlythrough the density. Ruth thought it would be clear by noon, when sheand her mother could go for a stirring tramp. She stood lost in thoughttill a firm footfall on the stairs aroused her. 

"I see Miss Levice here; don't come down, " Kemp was saying. "What furtherdirections I have must be given to a woman. "

"Stay with Mamma, Father, " called Ruth, looking up at her hesitatingfather; "I shall see the doctor out;" and she quickly ran down the fewremaining steps to Kemp, awaiting her at the foot. She opened thedoor of the library, and closing it quickly behind them, turned to himexpectantly. 

"Nothing to be alarmed at, " he said, answering her mute inquiry. Heseated himself at the table, and drew from his vest-pocket pencil andblank. Without another glance at the girl, he wrote rapidly for someminutes; then quickly moving back his chair, he arose and handed her thetwo 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 isa diet which you are to observe. As I told her just now, she must remainin bed and see no one but her immediate family; you must see that shehears and reads nothing exciting. That is all, I think. "

Indignation and alarm held riot in Ruth's face and arrested the doctor'sdeparture. 

"Dr. Kemp, " she said, "you force me to remind you of a promise you mademe last night. Will you at least tell me what ails my mother that youuse 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 Iwill tell you all the trouble. Your mother is suffering with a certainform of hysteria to a degree that would have prostrated her had we notcome 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 ofthe food and rest cure?"

"Yes. "

"Well, that is what she will undergo mildly. Has she any duties thatwill suffer by her neglect or that will intrude upon her equanimity?"

"No necessary ones but those of the house. Under no circumstances can Iconceive of her giving up their supervision. "

"Yet she must do so under the present state of affairs. Remember, hermind must be kept unoccupied, but time must be made to pass pleasantlyfor her. This is not an easy task, Miss Levice; but, according to mypromise, 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 apprehensionshad been excessive. Now, though she knew positively that her mother'scondition needed instant and constant care, which she must herselfassume, all sense of responsibility fell from her. The few quiet wordsof this strange physician had made her trust his strength as she woulda rock. She could not have explained why it was so; but as her fatherremarked 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 thelounge. 

"So he says; and what he says one cannot resist. " There was an apatheticring to her mother's voice that surprised her. Quickly the thoughtflashed through her that she was too weary to resist now that she wasfound out. 

"Then we won't try to, " Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge ofthe lounge close to her mother. From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted withremorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovelyyoung daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothedher hair. 

"And if you are to be baby, " she continued, smiling down, "I shallhave to change places with you, and become mother. You will see what acapital one I shall make. Let's see, what are the duties? First, babymust be kept clean and sweet, --I am an artist at that; secondly, Fatherand the rest of us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third--"

"I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;" thegentle meaning of her father's words and glance caused Ruth to flushwith pleasure. When Levice said, "My child, " the words were a caress. "Just believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was 'Whateveryou do, do thoroughly. ' She had to learn it through experience. But asyou 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 beenforced to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice'sattack at the Merrill reception. He was, therefore, much surprised andshocked on his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and suchrigorous measures for quiet in vogue. 

Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years. Hewas a direct importation from France, which he had left just beforeattaining his majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductiveto his imagination. He had no sooner taken up his abode with his unclethan he was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreignvertu in the beautiful house. 

Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he wassoon able to take almost the entire charge of Levice's affairs. In a fewyears his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities. Fromthe time he arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt'sescort, 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 manunattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a singlewoman. This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got intofor 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 soondiscovered. She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool, quizzical manner and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from themore girlish admiration of his distinguished person. He and Ruth weregreat friends in a quiet, unspoken way. 

They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of hisreturn. Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting withher. Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feellonesome in the changed aspect of the house. 

Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward andforward in the rocker. 

"What I am surprised at, " he was saying, "is that my aunt submits tothis confining treatment;" he pronounced the last word "tritment, " buthe never stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding acertain piquancy to his speech. 

"You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows hisdirections 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 powersof 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 wedelight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness. "

"Will you allow me to differ with you? Besides, apart from this greatfirst cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has notrebelled. "

"I think I can answer that satisfactorily, " replied his cousin, amischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong whiteteeth; "she is in love. "

"Also?"

"With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best. Love isalso 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 abetter 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 ammerely 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 sodisagreeably. "

"Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to bedisagreeable. Always wear white; it becomes you. Never forget thatbeauty needs appropriate surroundings. Another thing, ma belle cousine, this little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocationspoils your whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain itshealthy whiteness, while--"

"You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis. Do you know, if youoften spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?"

"That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides makingenemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest andloveliest. "

"We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mockingtarantulas. "

"That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our lovingeverybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Loveonly 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 hisportrait 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 instinctivelybefore the brain can speak. "

"Good--for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain alwaysreconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worthwhile to signal either 'love' or 'hate. '"

He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecomingblush mounted slowly to Ruth's face and her eyes were bright as shewatched him. When his hands touched the keys, she spoke. 

"No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independenceof all emotion. But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being aweakness, is often more clever than wisdom? At any rate, what you aredoing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more stronglythan many. "

He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly, never, however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softlypassionate 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 onenight. "

"Alas, poor me!" he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany hiswords with his music; "I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotionsare so troublesome. You have but made your entrance into the coldest, most exciting arena, --the world. Remember what I tell you, --all thestrong 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 theroom. 

She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt ofcynicism. 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 herfather'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 incitea friendly passage-at-arms; hence, most of such talk passed in thespeaking. Not so the disparaging insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp. 

During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chiefto her mother she had seen him almost daily. Time in a quiet sick-roompasses monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-beingand activity here assume proportions of importance; meal-times arelooked forward to as a break in the day; the doctor's visit especiallywhen it is the only one allowed, is an excitement. Dr. Kemp's visitswere short, but the two learned to look for his coming and the soundof his deep, cheery voice, as to their morning's tonic that wouldstrengthen the whole day. Naturally, as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levicein her idleness had analyzed and discussed aloud his qualities, bothpersonal and professional, to her satisfaction. She had small groundfor basing her judgments, but the doctor formed a good part of herconversation. 

Ruth's knowledge of him was somewhat larger, --about the distance betweenMrs. Levice's bedroom and the front door. She had a homely little way ofseeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her anynew instructions. Instructions are soon given and taken; and there wasalways time for a word or two of a different nature. 

In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificentpair 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, " theirowner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in herquaint, 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, whostood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, "Let methank you and shake hands for my horses. "

One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather. The doctorbecame neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercuriallyaffected by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of aprivate 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 aroundthem. "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 suchweather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should beinhaling 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 ourmorning constitutional together when all was well. Father always gave methe dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as longstrides as a boy. Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry mypas was not ladylike. "

"You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidentlyremembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one's length oflimb 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 wherehe has the advantage over a tall man. "

Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in hismanner but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally atvariance with the peculiarities of the "lady's man" that Louis hadinsinuated he was accounted. She resolved to scrutinize him morenarrowly 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 exquisiteneatness, 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 agreat deal of supervising. She took a natural pride in having things goas smoothly as under her mother's administration; and Mr. Levice said itwas well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was avast improvement. 

Ruth had given the last touches to her mother's dark hair, and wasreading 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 brightlyflushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and herslight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great wearinesshad taken its place. The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at theopen window. 

Ruth's reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying adainty 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 asthe girl retired. A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice's face; sheburied her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope. 

"From Louis!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Poor fellow! he was dreadfullyupset when he came in. He did not say much, but his look and hand-shakewere enough as he bent to kiss me. Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louishas a very loving disposition?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Yes. One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him tobe unusually sympathetic for a man. I would sooner have him for a friendthan 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 queerlast night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week. Sincewhen 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 evenafter a day's absence. But some few months ago he inaugurated the newregime, and holds me at arm's length. I can't ask him why, when he looksat 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 herdarling 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 thehall. 

Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor. 

Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside. Hehad not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravityreplaced his usual leisurely manner. 

"Good-morning, Mrs. Levice, " he said, taking her hand in his, andlooking searchingly down at her. "How are you feeling this morning? Anystarts or shakes of any sort?"

"No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fedanimal. Won't you sit down, Doctor?"

"No; I have a consultation in a very short time. Keep right on as youhave been doing. I do not think it will be necessary for me to call forseveral 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; illnesswith you is cushioned in every conceivable corner. I wish I could makeyou divide some of your blessings. As I cannot, I wish you to appreciatethem as they deserve. Do not come down, Miss Levice, " as she moved tofollow 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 thegirl's preoccupied face. The doctor's few words had given her food forthought. 

When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herselfLouis's allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything tomock at, had he been present, in Kemp's abrupt visit of the morning. 

Chapter V

Ruth always dressed well. Indeed, any little jealousy her lovelypresence 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 changeof gown; being possessed of good taste, her toilets never offended;desiring to look pleasing, as every woman should, she studied what wasbecoming; having a mother to whom a good toilet was one of the mostpressing convenances, and who delighted in planning beautiful gowns forher beautiful daughter, there was nothing lacking to prevent Ruth frombeing 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 anyidea of hurry; she noticed everything she passed, from a handsome houseto a dirty child. 

She was approaching that portion of Geary Street which the doctorshave appropriated, and she carefully scanned each silvery sign-plate insearch of Dr. Kemp's name. It was the first time she had had occasion togo; and with a little feeling of novel curiosity she ran up the stairsleading 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 patientswere still awaiting their turns. Seated in one of the easy-chairs, nearthe window, was an aristocratic-looking woman, whom Ruth recognized as afriend of one of her Christian friends, and with whom she had a speakingacquaintance. Nodding pleasantly in response to the rather frigid bow, she walked to the centre of the room, and laying upon the table a bunchof roses that she carried, proceeded to select one of the magazinesscattered about. As she sat down, she found herself opposite astout Irishwoman, coarsely but cleanly dressed, who with undisguisedadmiration took in every detail of Ruth's appearance. She overlooked theevident simplicity of the woman's stare; but the wistful, yearning lookof a little girl who reclined upon the lounge caused her to sit with hermagazine unopened. As soon as she perceived that it was her flowers thatthe child regarded so longingly, she bent forward, and holding out a fewroses, said invitingly, --

"Would you like these?"

There is generally something startling in the sudden sound of a voiceafter a long silence between strangers; but the pretty cadence of Ruth'sgentle voice bore no suggestion of abruptness. 

"Indeed, and she just do dote on 'em, " answered the mother, in a loudtone, for the blushing child. 

"So do I, " responded Ruth; and leaning farther forward, she put them inthe little hand. 

But the child's hand did not close over them, and the large eyes turnedpiteously to her mother. 

"It's paralyzed she is, " hurriedly explained the mother. "Shall Mammahold 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 inyour 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 inwaiting to come forward, the poor woman arose preparatory to helping herchild into the consulting-room. 

"Let me help Mamie, Mrs. O'Brien, " said he, coming toward her. At thesame moment the elegant-looking woman rose from her chair and swepttoward him. 

"I believe it is my turn, " she said, in response to his questioningsalutation. 

"Certainly, if you came before Mrs. O'Brien. If so, walk in, " heanswered, 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 haughtilyimpassive woman beside her. 

"Well, then, " said he, courteously, "I know Mrs. O'Brien is wanted athome 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 belaid to heart; and she knew she could never see him in a better lightthan when he left the room holding the little charity patient in hisarms. 

She also noticed with a tinge of amusement the look of added hauteur onthe face of Mrs. Baker, as she returned to her seat at the window. 

"Haughtiness, " mused Ruth, "is merely a cloak to selfishness, or thewant of a proper spirit of humanity. "

The magazine article remained unread; she drifted into a sort ofday-dream, and scarcely noticed when Mrs. Baker left the room. 

"Well, Miss Levice. "

She started up, slightly embarrassed, as the doctor's voice thus arousedher. 

"I beg your pardon, " she said, coming forward and flushing slightlyunder his amused smile. "It was so quiet here that I forgot where Iwas. "

He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her anexquisite 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 shefelt 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 meanother 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. Hestepped forward to open the outer door for her. 

"I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health, " he remarked, with ahand on the knob. 

"No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it. But for yourmethod I am afraid there might have been. "

"Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind. Your nursing was aspotent 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; "butI must disclaim the compliment, I am sorry to say; my nursing was only aname. "

"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'spointed remark spoken as with a sudden purpose. 

"Yes, " he continued, leaning his back against the door and lookingearnestly down at the tall girl; "the room of a lad without even thepresence of a mother to make it pretty;" he paused as if noting theeffect of his words. "He is as lonely and uncomplaining as a tree wouldbe in a desert; these roses will be quite a godsend to him. " He finishedhis sentence pleasantly at sight of the expression of sympathy in thelovely brown eyes. 

"Do you think he would care to see any one?"

"Well, " replied the doctor, slowly, "I think he would not mind seeingyou. "

"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 ofsome pleasurable emotion that as soon as I looked at you and your rosesI thought, 'Now, that would not be a bad thing for Bob. ' You see, I wassimply answering a question that has bothered me all day. Then will youdrive there with me now?"

"Would not that be impossible with your driver?" she asked, searchingunaccountably 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, whodrove off at a rapid pace. 

"I think, " said he, turning his horses westward, "I shall have to make acall out here on Jones Street before going to Bob. You will not mind thedelay, Miss Levice, I hope. "

"Oh, no. This is 'my afternoon off, ' you know. Father is at home, and mymother will not miss me in the least. I was just thinking--"

She came to a sudden pause. She had just remembered that she wasabout to become communicative to a comparative stranger; the intent, interested look in Kemp's eye as he glanced at her was the disturbingelement. 

"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 answeredhastily, biting her lip. She had been about to remark that her fatherwould miss her, nevertheless--but such personal platitudes are notalways in good taste. Seeing that she was disinclined to finish hersentence, he did not urge her; and a few minutes later he drew up hishorses before a rather imposing house. 

"I shall not be gone a minute, I think, " he said, as he sprang out andwas 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 outhastily. His hat was pulled down over his brows, which were gatheredin an unmistakable frown. At the moment when he slammed the gatebehind him, a stout woman hurrying along the sidewalk accosted himbreathlessly. 

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 myhusband? What do you think of him?"

"Madame, " he replied shortly, "since you ask, I think your husband islittle 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 likehis cannot resist gorging himself with things he has been strictlyprohibited from touching, he had better proclaim himself irresponsibleand be done. It is nonsense to call me in when he persists in cutting upsuch antics. Good-afternoon. "

And abruptly raising his hat, he sprang in beside Ruth, taking the reinsfrom 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 tactto break the silence of an angry man. In nine cases out of ten, theexplosion 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 ishere charged with odors redolent of anything but the "shores of Arabythe blest. "

Kemp finally gave vent to his feelings. 

"Some men, " he said deliberately, as if laying down an axiom, "have nomore conception of the dignity of controlled appetites than savages. Here is one who could not withstand anything savory to eat, to save hissoul; 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 onthe 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 therace 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 Iwas not rude. "

"Why, certainly not, " she answered half merrily, half earnestly. "Whyshould you be?"

"As you say, why should I be? Jewish individuals, of course, havetheir faults like the rest of humanity. As a race, most of theircharacteristics redound to their honor, in my estimation. "

"Thank you, " said the girl, quietly. "I am very proud of many Jewishtraits. "

"Such as a high morality, loyalty, intelligence, filial respect, andcountless other things. "

"Yes. "

"Besides, it is wonderful how they hold the balance of power in themusical and histrionic worlds. Still, to be candid, in comparison withthese, they do not seem to have made much headway in the other branchesof 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 earnestsimplicity; "and I think that their great musical and histrionic powersare the results not so much of art as of passion inherited from timesand circumstances stern and sad since the race began. Painting andsculpture 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 youthe beautiful illustration with which one of our rabbis was inspiredto answer a clergyman asking the same question; but I should only spoilthat 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 attentionfrom the horses. He did not fail to note the emotion that lit up herexpressive face, and made her sweet voice tremble. 

"It is the story of the Rose of Sharon. This is it briefly: A pilgrimwas about to start on a voyage to the Holy Land. In bidding a friendgood-by, he said: 'In that far land to which I am journeying, is therenot some relic, some sacred souvenir of the time beautiful, that I canbring to you?' The friend mused awhile. 'Yes, ' he made answer finally;'there is a small thing, and one not difficult to obtain. I beg ofyou to bring me a single rose from the plains of Sharon. ' The pilgrimpromised, and departed. On his return he presented himself before hisfriend. 'You have brought it?' he cried. 'Friend, ' answered the pilgrim, sadly, 'I have brought your rose; but, alas! After all this wearytravelling it is now but a poor, withered thing. ' 'Give it me!'exclaimed the friend, eagerly. The other did so. True, it was lifelessand withered; not a vestige remained of its once fragrant glory. But asthe man held it tenderly in his hand, memory and love untold overcamehim, and he wept in ecstasy. And as his tears fell on the faded rose, lo! The petals sprang up, flushed into life; an exquisite perfumeenveloped it, --it had revived in all its beauty. Sir, in the words ofthe rabbi, 'In the light of toleration and love, we too have revived, wetoo 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 doctorstopped before a weather-beaten cottage. 

"This is where Bob receives, " he said, holding out a hand to Ruth; "inall truth it cannot be called a home. "

Ruth had a peculiar, inexplicable feeling of mutual understanding withthe doctor as she went in with him. She hardly realized that she hadbeen an impressionable witness of some of his dominant moods, and thatshe herself had been led on to an unrestrained display of feeling. 

Chapter VI

They walked directly into a bare, dark hallway. There was no onestirring, and Kemp softly opened the door of one of several roomsleading into the passage. Here a broad band of yellow sunlight fellunrestrained athwart the waxen-like face of the sleeping boy. The restof the simple, poor-looking room was in shadow. The doctor noiselesslyclosed the door behind them, and stepped to the bed, which was coveredwith 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 shockof lack-lustre hair, that made poor Bob Bard anything but a thing ofbeauty. And yet, as Ruth looked at him, and saw Kemp's strong whitehand placed gently on the low forehead, a great wave of tender pity tookpossession of her. Sleep puts the strongest at the mercy of thewatcher; there is a loneliness about it, a silent, expressive plea forprotection, that appeals unconsciously. Ruth would have liked to raisethe 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 whathe needs. I am sorry our little plan is frustrated; but it would besenseless 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 tosee them. His conjectures on their mysterious appearance will rouse himsufficiently for one day. "

He watched her move lightly across the room, and fill a cup withwater from an earthenware pitcher. She looked about for a second as ifhesitating where to place it, and then quickly drew up a high-backedwooden 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 passbefore him. She followed him slowly, but on the threshold drew back, athoughtful little pucker on her brow. 

"I think I shall wait anyway, " she explained. "I should like to talkwith 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 theJackson 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 decidedto stay. "

"That settles it, then, " smiled Kemp; and shaking her hand, he went outalone. 

"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 asmile. 

Ruth, thus left alone, seated herself on the one other chair near thefoot of the bed. Strange to say, though she gazed at Bob, her thoughtshad flown out of the room. She was dimly conscious that she waspleasantly 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 fedby Dr. Kemp's unmistakable desire for her assistance. He must at leasthave looked at her with friendly eyes; but here her modesty drew a lineeven for herself, and giving herself a mental shake, she saw that twolambent brown eyes were looking wonderingly at her from the face of thesick lad. 

"How do you feel now, Bob?" she asked, rising immediately and smilingdown at him. 

The boy forgot to answer. 

"The doctor brought me here, " she went on brightly; "but as you wereasleep, 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 surprisinglymusical. 

"Why?" faltered Ruth. "Oh, to bring you these roses. Do you care forflowers, Bob?" She lifted the mass of delicate buds toward him. Twopale, transparent hands went out to meet them. Tenderly as you sometimessee a mother press the cheek of her babe to her own, he drew them to hischeek. 

"Oh, my darlings, my darlings!" he murmured passionately, with his lipspressed to the fragrant petals. 

"Do you love them, then, so much?"

"Lady, " replied the boy, raising himself to a sitting posture, "there isnothing 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 theroses. 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. Hewas 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 wellnext 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 allhis gentle perfume folded close to his heart. I used to think theseDuchesses would suit him best; but now, having seen you, I know theywere too frail, --Marechal Niel. " It was impossible to resent openly theboy's musings; but with a quick insistence that stemmed the current ofhis 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 totell him?"

"I never tell him anything I wish, " replied the boy, proudly. "He knowsbeforehand. Did you never draw up close to a delicate flower, lay yourcheek softly upon it, so, --close your eyes, so, --and listen to the taleit's telling? Well, that is what my good friend does always. "

It was like listening to music to hear the slow, drawling words of theinvalid. Ruth's hand closed softly over his. 

"I have some pretty stories at home about flowers, " she said; "would youlike 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 firstdirectly personal expression of honest gratitude she had ever received;and as she walked down the hill, she longed to do something that wouldbe really helpful to some one. She had led, on the whole, so far, anegotistic life. Being their only child, her parents expected much ofher. During her school-life she had been a sort of human reservoir forall her father's ideas, whims, and hobbies. True, he had made her takea wide interest in everything within the line of vision; hanging onhis arm, as they wandered off daily in their peripatetic school, he hadimbued her with all his manly nobility of soul. But theorizing does notgive much hold on a subject, the mind being taken up with its own cleverelucidations. 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. Ruthhad soon gauged the worth of this surface-life, and now that a lull hadcome, she realized that what she needed was some interest outside ofherself, --an interest which the duties of a mere society girl do notallow to develop to a real good. 

A plan slowly formed itself in her mind, in which she became soengrossed that she unconsciously crossed the cable of the Jackson Streetcars. 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 voicein evident anger. 

"Oh, Louis, how you startled me! What is the matter with this part oftown?"

"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 turnedwith 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 carryhis charity a little farther and take you home again?"

"Because I did not choose to go with him, " she returned, rearing herhead and looking calmly at him as they walked along. 

"Bah! What had your wishing or not wishing to do with it? The manknew where he had taken you even if you did not know. This quarter isoccupied by nothing but negroes and foreign loafers. It was decidedlyungentlemanly 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 inbroad daylight. "

"Probably he never gave it a second's thought one way or the other. Hereafter you had better consult your natural protectors before startingout 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, justas the sun, a golden ball, was about to glide behind Lone Mountain. Lateafternoon is a quiet time, and Ruth and Louis did not speak for a while. 

The girl was experiencing a whirl of conflicting emotions, --anger atLouis's interference, pleasure at his protecting care, annoyance atwhat he considered gross negligence on the doctor's part, and a sneakingpride, in defiance of his insinuations, over the thought that Kemp hadtrusted 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, asgentle 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 inthe face. 

The dark blood surged over the girl's cheeks. She drew a long, hardbreath, and then said in a low voice, --

"I think we will not quarrel, Louis. Will you get off at the next cornerwith 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 manyof 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 hermore and more to herself. 

As a matter of course, Ruth had laid the case of Bob and hisneighborhood before her father's consideration. A Jewish girl's life isan open page to her family. Matters of small as well as of larger momentare freely discussed. The result is that while it robs her of much ofher Christian sister's spontaneity, which often is the latter's greatestcharm, it also, through the sagacity of more experienced heads, guards her against many indiscretions. This may be a relic of Europeantraining, but it enables parents to instil into the minds of theirdaughters principles which compare favorable with the American girl'snative self-reliance. It was as natural for Ruth to consult her fatherin this trivial matter, in view of Louis's disapproval, as it would befor her friend, Dorothy Gwynne, to sally anywhere so long as she herselffelt justified in so doing. 

Ruth really wished to go; and as her father, after considering thematter, could find no objection, she went. After that it was enough totell her mother that she was going to see Bob. Mrs. Levice had heard thedoctor speak of him to Ruth; and any little charity that came in her wayshe was only too happy to forward. 

Bob's plain, ungarnished room soon began to show signs of beauty underRuth's deft fingers. A pot of mignonette in the window, a small paintingof exquisite chrysanthemums on the wall, a daily bunch of fresh roses, were the food she brought for his poet soul. But there were othersubstantial things. 

The day after she had replaced the coarse horse-blanket with a soft downquilt, 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 hisfoot on the last step, and looked up at her as if arrested by a suddenthought. 

"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 youdo. He positively refused to get up yesterday on account of the 'softfeel, ' as he termed it, of that quilt. Now, you know, he must get up; heis able to, and in a week I wish to start him in to work again. Then hewon't be able to afford such 'soft feels, ' and he will rebel. He has hadenough coddling for his own good. I really think it is mistaken kindnesson your part, Miss Levice. "

The girl was leaning lightly against one of the supporting columns. Aplayful 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 hissmiling eyes. A man of thirty-five does not resent a friendly scoldingfrom a winsome young girl. 

"Well, don't you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob ofany pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wishit too, and will not be able to have it?"

"As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wishyou to see it as practically as I do. Put sentiment aside, and theonly 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, uselessquestion. Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, thediscovery will not alter the fact. "

"Yes, it will. "

"How?"

"By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek asofter. "

"You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination, --circumstance. "

"And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove thestrait-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 hespoke; "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 quicklydown 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 haveany cases that require assistance outside of a physician's, --such asmy father or I might lend. You must have a broad field for suchopportunities. 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 hisoutstretched one. She watched him step into his carriage; he turned andraised his hat again, --a trifling circumstance that Ruth dwelt upon withpleasure; 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 sparemoments. 

Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society. 

"A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people willeither consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely. Don't beunreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy everyfunction in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you. Whenhe asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Fridaynight, I heard you say you did not know. Now why?"

"Oh, that? I never gave it a second's thought. I promised Father to gowith 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 travellingaround by himself; couldn't you go again in the evening with him?"

"Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt. If the pictures are good, a secondvisit will not be thrown away, --that is, if Louis is really anxious formy companionship. But, 'I doubt it, I doubt it, I do. '"

"What nonsense!" returned her mother, somewhat testily. "Why shouldn'the 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. Ifdisputation 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 anddecorous demeanor. "

"I can imagine, " laughed her mother, a little anxiously; "then you willgo?"

"Why not?"

If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice'sexertions bore some fruit. 

Chapter VIII

There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with moreenthusiastic theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco. Theplay was one of the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughlyenjoyed. When a great star was heralded, he was in a feverish delightuntil it had come and gone. When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet littleman fully earned the often indiscriminately applied title of "crazyFrenchman. " A Frenchman is never so much one as when confronted ina foreign land with a great French creation; every fibre in hisbody answers each charm with an appreciation worked to fever-heat bypatriotic love; at such times the play of his emotions precludes anyidea of reason to an onlooker. Bernhardt was one of Levice's passions. Booth was another, though he took him more composedly. The first timethe latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was "Hamlet") theLevices--that is, Ruth and her father--went three times in succession towitness his matchless performance, and every succeeding characterizationbut strengthened their enthusiasm. 

Booth was coming again. The announcement had been rapturously hailed bythe Levices. 

"It will be impossible for us to go together, Father, " Ruth remarked atthe 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 stayingwith your mother on those nights. "

"Thanks for the offer--and your evident delight in my company, " laughedRuth; "but there is one play at which you must submit to the inflictionof my presence. Don't you remember we always wished to see the 'Merchantof 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 nextweek. "

"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 atnight. It is horrid of you to go. I am sure you could manage differentlyif--"

"Why, my child!"

She was actually pouting; and her father's quiet tone of surprisedreprimand 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 withourselves, nine out of ten come to nought. Before you set your heart ona thing, be sure you will not have to give it up. "

Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophicremark 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 asyou wish. "

But chance in this instance was not propitious. Wednesday came, andArnold saw no way of accommodating her. He left town after taking her tosee 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 callit 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 pitiablecondition of the princess who had her head turned. I sat directly backof 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 admirationvocabulary. The last extravaganza I heard from her on that theme wasafter she had seen him as Brutus; she wished herself Lucius, that in thetent 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 greatfarewell performance. "

"Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him. "

"Now, Doctor, " cried Mrs. Levice, "will you please impress it on herthat I am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear? She wishesto go Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the groundthat I shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town. Is not thatbeing unnecessarily solicitous?"

"Without doubt. But, " he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, "in lieuof 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 "willyou honor me" nor "will you please me, " but he had both pleased andhonored her. She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother. "Comenow, Mrs. Levice, " laughed Kemp, noting the action, "will you allow yourlittle girl to go with me? Do not detain me with a refusal; it will beimpossible to accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, youknow. Good-morning. "

Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts bothof mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at hisunexpected invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by anotherand quite different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself. Mrs. Levice was in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in theevening. 

"By all means, let her go, " replied he; "why should you have had anymisgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going. "

"But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow theirgirls to go out with strangers. "

"Is that part of our religion?"

"No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at everylittle 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 thechild. If she wishes to go, don't set an impossible bogy in the way ofher enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you wouldif you said to the doctor, 'I can't let her go on account of people'stongues, ' and that is the only honest excuse you can offer. " So in hismanly, practical way he decided it. 

On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her palesuede glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in herdull sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her softdark hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealedby the broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly toldthat she was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kempcame in, his open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He cameforward 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 goodtime. "

"It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?" asked Ruth, for want ofsomething better to say as she turned for her wrap. 

"I did not feel it, " he replied, intercepting her. "But this furry thingwill keep the cold off, if there is any, " he continued, as he held itfor her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at herthroat. A strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached soclose her own. 

"How are your mother and father?" He asked, holding the door open, whileshe turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment. 

"They are as usual, " she answered. "Father expects to see you after theplay. 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, thatseemed 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 inits graver sentiment as there are different interpreters. Ruth hadseen one who made of Shylock merely a fawning, mercenary, loveless, blood-thirsty wretch. She had seen another who presented a man of quickwit, 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 instrife for the only worldly power vouchsafed him, --gold; grown old withbut 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 hismanly birthright, now turned fiend, endeavors with tooth and nailto wreak the smouldering vengeance of a lifetime upon the chancerepresentative 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 ather for sympathy; he was rather surprised at the grave, unsmilingface beside him. When, however, the old Jew staggered alone and almostblindly from the triumphantly smiling court-room, a little pinch on hisarm decidedly startled him. 

He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruthstarted. 

"Oh, " she faltered, "I--I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were notLouis. "

"I do not mind in the least, " he assured her easily. 

The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great thingsof life move slowly. 

As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, thelatter thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whomturned an interested look at her stalwart escort. Of this she wasperfectly aware, but the same human interest with which Kemp'sacquaintances 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 hasentirely died away. "

"'On such a night, '" quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, "a closedcarriage seems out of season. "

"And reason, " supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door ratherslowly. 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 roundto the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night. "

John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion's little hand throughhis arm. 

"Well, " he said, as they turned the corner, "Were you satisfied with thegreat man to-night?"

"Yes, " she replied meditatively, "fully; there was no exaggeration, --itwas 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 passedout when joy began. "

"Ah! I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano's jesting. MissLevice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take toostrong a hold on you. It is not right. I assure you for every tear thereis 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 learnthat, --tears are always stronger than laughter. How could I listen tothe 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 theperfect accord with which they kept step. Ruth's little ear was justabout on a level with the doctor's chin. He hardly felt the soft touchof her hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile ofher cheek against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she wasthere was a pleasing one. 

"Did you consider the length of our walk when you fell in with mydesire?" 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 andstrength. "

"Yes; if everybody were like me, all your skill would be thrown away, --Iam never ill. "

"Apparently there is no reason why you should be, with common-sense toback 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 betweenmy mother and a doctor's wife. I am reminded of it because the spiritof your meaning is diametrically opposed to her own. After some talk mymother asked, 'And how is the doctor?' 'Oh, ' replied the visitor, witha 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 tosee that she had roused herself from her sad musings; but a certain setpurpose he had formed robbed him now of his former lightness of manner. 

He was about to broach a subject that required delicate handling; but anintuitive knowledge of the womanly character of the young girl aidedhim much. It was not so much what he had seen her do as what he knew shewas, that led him to begin his recital. 

"We have a good many blocks before us yet, " he said, "and I am going totell 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, "nowyou feel more like a big girl than like a bit of thistledown. If I gettiresome, just call 'time, ' will you?"

"All right, " she laughed. She was beginning to meet halfway thismatter-of-fact, unadorned, friendly manner of his; and when she did meetit, she felt a comfortable security in it. From the beginning to the endof his short narrative he looked straight ahead. 

"How shall I begin? Do you like fairy tales? Well, this is the soul ofone without the fictional wings. Once upon a time, --I think that is thevery best introduction extant, --a woman was left a widow with one littlegirl. She lived in New Orleans, where the blow of her husband's deathand the loss of her good fortune came almost simultaneously. She musthave had little moral courage, for as soon as she could, she left herhome, not being able to bear the inevitable falling off of friendsthat follows loss of fortune. She wandered over the intermediate Statesbetween here and Louisiana, stopping nowhere long, but endeavoring tokeep together the bodies and souls of herself and child by teaching. They kept this up for years until the mother succumbed. They were onthe way from Nevada to Los Angeles when she died. The daughter, thennot eighteen, went on to Los Angeles, where she buried her mother, andendeavored to continue teaching as she had been doing. She was young, unsophisticated, sad, and in want in a strange town. She applied foradvice to a man highly honored and recommended by his fellow-citizens. The man played the brute. The girl fled--anywhere. Had she been lessbrave, she would have fled from herself. She came to San Francisco andtook a position as nurse-girl; children, she thought, could not play herfalse, and she might outlive it. The hope was cruel. She was living nearmy home, had seen my sign probably, and in the extremity of her distresscame to me. There is a good woman who keeps a lodging-house, and whodelights in doing me favors. I left the poor child in her hands, and sheis now fully recovered. As a physician I can do no more for her, and yetmelancholy 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 inthis way. I may have spoken a little more harshly than necessary, formy words broke down completely the wall of dogged silence she had builtaround 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, stainedas I am? Can I go as an impostor where, if people knew, they wouldsnatch their loved ones from me? Oh, it would be too wretched!' I triedto remonstrate with her, told her that the lily in the dust is no lessa lily than is her spotless sister held high above contamination. Shelooked at me miserably from her tear-stained face, and then said, 'Menmay think so, but women don't; a stain with them is ignoble whether madeby one's self or another. No woman knowing my story would think mefree from dishonor, and hold out her clean hands to me. ' 'Plenty, ' Icontradicted. 'Maybe, ' she said humbly; 'but what would it mean? Thehand 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, keptsafe from contamination, as you say, who, knowing my story, would holdout her hand to me and not feel herself besmirched by the contact? Donot say you can, for I know you cannot. ' She was crying so violentlythat she would not listen to me. When I left her, I myself could thinkof none of my young friends to whom I could propound the question. Iknow many sweet, kind girls, but I could count not one among them allwho in such a case would be brave as she was womanly--until I thought ofyou. "

Complete silence followed his words. He did not turn his glance from thestreet ahead of him. He had made no appeal, would make none, in fact. Hehad told the story with scarcely a reflection on its impropriety, thatwould have arrested another man from introducing such an element intohis gentle fellowship with a girl like Ruth. His lack of hesitancywas born of his manly view of the outcast's blamelessness, of her direnecessity for help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be asfree 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 manfor some ennobling virtue. Ruth felt this so strongly that she couldalmost hear her heart beat with the intoxicating knowledge. No questionhad been asked, but she felt an answer was expected. Yet had her lifedepended on it, the words could not have come at that moment. Was sheindeed what he esteemed her? Unconsciously Dr. Kemp had, in thought, placed her on a pedestal. Did she deserve the high place he had givenher, 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, herquick sympathy had been instantly touched by the girl's miserable story. Perhaps the doctor's own feelings had influenced her, but had the girlstood before her at the moment, she would have seized her hand with allher own gentle nobility of soul. 

As they turned the corner of the block where Ruth's house stood, Kempsaid deliberately, --

"Well?"

"I thank you. Where does she live?"

Her quiet, natural tone told nothing of the tumult of sweet thoughtswithin. They had reached the house, and the doctor opened the gatebefore he answered. When he did, after they had passed through, he tookboth 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 towalk in alone, as of my own accord. "

"Ah, yes!" he said, and told her the address. She ran lightly up thesteps, and as he turned her key in the door for her, she raised a pairof starry eyes to his. 

"Dr. Kemp, " she said, "I have had an exceptionally lovely evening. Ishall not soon forget it. "

"Nor I, " he returned, raising his hat; holding it in his hand, he gentlyraised her gloved hand to his lips. Herbert Kemp was a gentleman of theold school in his manner of showing reverence to women. 

"My brave young friend!" he said; and the next minute his firm footfallwas crunching the gravel of the walk. Neither of them had rememberedthat he was to have come in with her. She waited till the gate clickedbehind him, and then softly closed the heavy door. 

"My brave young friend!" The words mounted like wine to her head. Sheforgot her surroundings and stood in a sweet dream in the hall, slowlyunbuttoning her glove. She must have remained in this attitude for fiveminutes, when, raising her eyes, still shadowy with thought, she saw hercousin before her down the hall, his arm resting on the newel-post. 

"Louis!" she cried in surprise; and without considering, she hurried tohim, 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 hercheeks 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, andyou 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 suffusedher face. The epilogue had wholly obliterated the play from herrecollection. 

"Oh, of course, " she responded, turning from the rather sardonic smileof his lips and seating herself on the stairs; "do you want to hearabout it now?"

"Why not?"

"Well, " she began, laying her gloves in her lap and snuggling her chinin the palms of her hands, "shall I tell you how I felt about it? Inthe first place, I was not ashamed of Shylock; if his vengeance wasdistorted, the cause distorted it. But, oh, Louis, the misery of thatpoor 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 wonderfuleyebrow and the eloquence of his fine hand. Poor old, lonely Shylock!With all his intellect, how could he regret that wretched littleJessica?"

"He was a Jewish father. "

"How singularly you say that! Of course he was a Jew; but Jewish hardlydescribes him, --at least, according to the modern idea. Are you comingup?"

"Yes. Go on; I will lower the gas. "

"Wouldn't you like something to eat or drink? You look so worn out; letme get you something. "

"Thanks; I have dined. Good-night. " The girl passed on to her prettywhite and gold room. Shylock had again fled from her memory, but therewas 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 begsher to step down to the gate for about two minutes. "

The note was handed to Ruth early the next morning as she stood in thekitchen beating up eggs for an omelette for her mother's breakfast. Asmile of mingled surprise and amusement overspread her face as sheread; instinctively turning the card, she saw, "Herbert Kemp, M. D. , " insimple lithograph. 

"Do I look all right, Mary?" she asked hurriedly, placing the bowl onthe table and half turning to the cook as she walked to the door. Marydeliberately placed both hands on her hips and eyed her sharply. 

"And striped flannel dresses and hairs in braids, " she began, as shealways did, as if continuing a thought, "being nice, pretty flannel andnice, pretty braids, Miss Ruth do look sweet-like, which is nothing outof the common, for she always do!"

The last was almost shouted after Ruth, who had run from the cook'sprolixity. 

As she hurried down the walk, she recognized the doctor's carriage, containing the doctor himself with Bob in state beside him. Two handswent up to two respective hats as the gate swung behind her, and sheadvanced with hand extended to Bob. 

"You are looking much better, " she exclaimed heartily, shaking therather bashfully outstretched hand; "your first outing, is it not?"

"Yes, lady. " It had been impossible for her to make him call her byname. 

"He elected to pay his first devoirs to the Queen of Roses, as heexpressed it, " spoke up Kemp, with his disengaged hand on the boy'sshoulder, and looking with a puzzled expression at Ruth. Last night shehad been a young woman; this morning she was a young girl; it wasonly after he had driven off that he discovered the cause lay in thearrangement of her hair. 

"Thank you, Bob; presently I expect to have you paying me a visit onfoot, when we can come to a clearer understanding about my flower-beds. "

"He says, " returned the boy, turning an almost humbly devoted look onKemp, "that I must not think of gardening for some weeks. And so--andso--"

"Yes?"

"And so, " explained the doctor, briskly, "he is going to hold myreins on our rounds, and imbibe a world of sunshine to expend on someflowers--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 inthe 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 aconvalescent, and Ruth, in turn, drew down the robe over the lad'shands. As she did so, her cousin, Jennie Lewis, passed hurriedly by. Herquick 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 falla pearl. 

The doctor gave a quick look at Ruth, which she met, smiling. 

"He cannot help his inspiration, " she remarked easily, and stepped backas 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 afteryou; so it's just this side your mouth, like if you hadn't wiped it goodafter breakfast. "

Ruth rubbed it off, wondering with vexation if the doctor had noticedit. Truth to say, the doctor had noticed it, and naturally placed thesame passing construction on it that Mary had suggested. Not that thelittle yellow splash occupied much of his attention. When he droveoff, all he thought of Ruth's appearance was that her braided hair hunggracefully and heavily down her back; that she looked young, --decidedlyyoung and missish; and that he had probably spoken indiscreetly andimpulsively to the wrong person on a wrong subject the night before. 

Dress has a subtile influence upon our actions: one gown can make aromp, another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette, out of the same woman. The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to thefitness or unfitness of dress. Now, Ruth was without doubt the samegirl who had so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor'sunconventional story; but the fashion of her gown had changed theimpression 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 ofworldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of hergoing out. She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisabilityof her action; but the certain knowledge of her mother's disapproval ofsuch a proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, wouldhave cost her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act. A bit of subterfugewhich hurts no one is often not only excusable, but commendable. Besides, it saved her mother an annoying controversy; and so, fullysatisfied as to her part, Ruth took her way down the street. Thequestion as to whether the doctor had gone beyond the bounds of theirbrief acquaintance had of course been presented to her mind; but if aslight flush came into her face when she remembered the nature of thenarrative and the personality of the narrator, it was quickly banishedby the sweet assurance that in this way he had honored her beyond thereach of current flattery. 

A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave browneyes; with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, andshe longed to do it well. Her purpose robbed her of every trace ofnervousness; and it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knockedat room Number 10 on the second floor of a respectable lodging-house onPolk 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 ina small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near thewindow, but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared tobe a golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of thechair, and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruthhesitated after closing the door behind her, she found a pair oflistless violet eyes regarding her from a small white face. 

"Well?" queried the girl, without changing her position except to allowher 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 wanderingeverywhere but to the face of her strange interlocutor. 

"I am Ruth Levice, a friend of Dr. Kemp. Will that introduction beenough to make you shake hands with me?"

She advanced toward her, holding out her hand. A burning flame shotacross Rose Delano's face, and she shrank farther back among herpillows. 

"No, " she said, putting up a repellent hand; "it is not enough. Do nottouch me, or you will regret it. You must not, I say. " She arose quicklyfrom her chair and stood at bay, regarding Ruth. The latter, taller thanshe 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 withpassionate resentment at her. 

"Because I have come to see you; because I wish to shake hands withyou. "

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why do you wish to do that?"

"Because I wish to be your friend. May we not be friends? I am not mucholder 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 fartherfrom her, as if to escape her grave brown eyes. 

"You do not know what you are doing, " cried the girl, excitedly; "haveyou 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 andyours, why should we not be friends?"

"Because he is a man, and you are a woman. He has then told you mystory?"

"Yes. "

"And you feel yourself unharmed in coming here--to such a creature asI?"

"I feel nothing but pity for you; I do not blame you. But, oh, littleone, I do so grieve for you because you won't believe that the world isnot all merciless. Come, give me your hand. "

"No, " she said, clasping her hands behind her and retreating as theother advanced; "go away, please. You are very good, but you are veryfoolish. 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 yourfriendship. Can't you go now, or are you afraid that your sweetheartwill 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 speakof Dr. Kemp. "

"But he is not my lover, " she stated, still speaking gently, but with apale 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 isbest. "

"This is best, " said Ruth, deliberately; and before Rose knew it she hadseized her two hands, and unclasping them from behind her, drew them toher 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 ofher 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 thefrail girl in the armchair, sat down beside her. 

"Oh, wait!" whispered Rose; "let me tell you everything before you makeme live again. "

"I know everything; and truly, Rose, nothing you can say could make mewish 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 aculprit. 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 pleasantit 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 younot?"

"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 afaint 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 teachthem too?"

"Oh, Miss Levice, how can I go with such a past?"

"I tell you, " said Ruth, proudly rearing her head, "if I introduce youas 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 arrangementswith 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 youonce 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 hereyes and said with simple fervor, "I would die for you. "

"No, but you may live for me, " laughed Ruth, rising; "will you promiseme 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 littlefluttering one was placed in hers, and Ruth bent and kissed the wistfulmouth. That pure kiss would have wiped out every stain from Rose'sworshipping soul. 

"I shall see you to-morrow surely, " she called back, turning a radiantface to the lonely little figure in the doorway. She felt deliriouslyhappy as she ran down the stairs; her eyes shone like stars; a buoyantjoyfulness spoke in her step. 

"It is so easy to be happy when one has everything, " she mused. Sheforgot to add, "And gives much. " There is so much happiness derived froma kind action that were it not for the motive, charity might be calledsupreme selfishness. 

Chapter XI. 

She told her mother in a few words at luncheon that she had arranged totake Spanish lessons from a young protege of Dr. Kemp, who had been illand was in want. 

"And I was thinking, " she added with naive policy, "that I might combinea little business with pleasure this afternoon, --pay off some of thoseever urgent calls you accuse me of outlawing, and at the same time tryto 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 likeher, 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 Icould take lessons too; it would not be exciting, and I am not yet soold but I may learn. "

"You might ask the doctor. He has almost dismissed himself now; andafter we get back from the country perhaps Jennie would join us two in aclass. Mother and daughter can then go to school together. "

"It is very fortunate, " Mrs. Levice observed pensively, sipping hernecessary glass of port, "that C---- sent your hat this morning to wearwith 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 artisticmanipulations. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Levice intended writing some delayed letters till herhusband's return, which promised to be early in the afternoon. 

She had just about settled herself at her desk when Jennie Lewis camebustling in. Mrs. Lewis always brought in a sense of importance; onelooked upon her presence with that exhilarating feeling with which oneanticipates the latest number of a society journal. 

"Go right on with your writing, Aunt Esther, " she said after they hadexchanged greetings. "I have brought my work, so I shall not mind thequiet in the least. "

"As if I would bore you in that way!" returned Mrs. Levice, with alaughing glance at her, as she closed her desk. "Lay off your things, and let us have a downright comfortable afternoon. Don't forget a singlesensation; 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 herneedle and crochet-work, and as the steel hook flashed in and out, hertongue 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 herunconventional, would you?"

"Oh, well; every one has a right to an opinion. "

Mrs. Levice glanced at her inquiringly. Without doubt there was anunderground mine beneath this non-committal remark. Mrs. Lewis rockedviolently backward and forward without raising her eyes. Her face wasbeet-red, and it looked as if an explosion were imminent. Mrs. Levicewaited with no little speculation as to what act of Ruth her cousindisapproved of so obviously. She like Jennie; every one who knew herrecognized her sterling good heart; but almost every one who knew heragreed that a grain of flour was a whole cake, baked and iced, toMrs. Lewis's imagination, and these airy comfits were passed aroundpromiscuously to whoever was on hand. Not a sound broke the portentoussilence but the decided snap with which Mrs. Lewis pulled her needlethrough, 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 toperceive the meaning. 

"I did. " A pause, and then, "Did Ruth?"

Mrs. Levice saw a flash of daylight, but her answer hinted at noperturbation. 

"Very much. Booth is her actor-idol, you know. "

"So I have heard. " She spread her crochet work on her knee as ifmeasuring its length, then with striking indifference picked it up againand adjusted her needle, --

"She came in rather late, didn't she?"

"Did she?" questioned Mrs. Levice, parrying with enjoyment the indirectthrusts. "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 ofcotton rolling to the other end of the room. 

"My dear, what is it?" Mrs. Levice turned a pair of bright, interestedeyes on her niece. 

"You know very well what I wish to say: everybody wondered to see Ruthwith Dr. Kemp. "

"Why?"

"Because every one knows that she never goes out with any gentleman butUncle or Louis, and we all were surprised. The Hoffmans sat behind us, and Miss Hoffman leaned forward to ask what it meant. I met severalacquaintances this morning who had been there, and each one made someremark about Ruth. One said, 'I had no idea the Levices were so intimatewith Dr. Kemp;' another young girl laughed and said, 'Ruth Levice had aswell escort last night, didn't she?' Still another asked, 'Anything onthe 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 fearedjust such a little disturbance from the Jewish community, but herhusband'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 yourphysician. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have said more. "

"There is no more to be said. Dr. Kemp and Ruth have become friendlythrough their mutual interest in several poor patients; and in thecourse of conversation one morning he heard that Ruth was anxious tosee this play, and had no escort. So he asked her, and her father sawno objection to her going. It is a pity she didn't think to hand round awritten explanation to her different Jewish friends in the theatre. "

"There you go, Aunt Esther! Jewish friends! I am sure that no matter howindifferent Uncle is to such things, you must remember that our Jewishgirls 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 withone. "

"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 thereanything 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 allaway from home, --"unless, of course, you prefer to remain in blissful orwilful 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 knowwhere she went this morning?"

Mrs. Levice was put out. She was enough of a Jewess to realize thatif you dislike Jewish comment, you must never step out of the narrowlyconventional Jewish pathway. That Ruth, her only daughter, should bethe subject of vulgar bandying was more bitter than wormwood to her; butthat her own niece could come with these wild conjectures incensed herbeyond endurance. 

"I do know, " she said in response to the foregoing question. "Ruth isnot a sneak, --she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mildthat there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on apoor 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 girllives, 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 thismorning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving anotherfarther 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, "myvulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account ofthe girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth isthe 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 manytimes, --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 agoacknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter's naturethat she had never gauged. 

"I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a mannevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck meas 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. Levicebreathed a sigh of hysterical relief. 

"Good-afternoon, Jennie, " he said, coming into the room and shaking herhand; "sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;" he stooped to kiss hiswife. 

Mrs. Lewis's hands trembled; she looked, to say the least, ashamed. Shehad been caught scandal-mongering by her uncle, Jules Levice, the headand pride of the whole family. 

"I am sorry I heard what I did, Jennie; sorry to think that you areso poor as to lay the vilest construction on an affair of which youevidently know nothing, and sorry you could not keep your views toyourself. " It was the habit of all of Levice's relatives to listen insilence to any personal reprimand the dignified old man might offer. 

"I heard a good part of your conversation, and I can only characterizeit as--petty. Can't you and your friends see anything without springingat shilling-shocker conclusions? Don't you know that people sometimesenjoy themselves without any further design? So much for the theatretalk. What is more serious is the fact that you could so misjudge myhonorable friend, Dr. Kemp. Such a thing, Jennie, my girl, would be asremote from Dr. Kemp's possibilities as the antipodes. Remember, what Isay 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 waswell done--if innocently; if with knowledge, so much the better. And Iventure to assert that she is not a whit harmed by the action. Inall 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 nottrivial; perhaps because my life is narrower. I know you and Ruth take adifferent view of everything. "

"Don't disparage yourself; people generally do that to be contradictedor to show that they know their weaknesses and have never cared tochange them. A woman of your intelligence need never sink to the levelof a spiteful chatterbox; every one should keep his tongue sheathed, forit is more deadly than a sword. Your higher interests should make youoverlook every little action of your neighbors. You only see or hearwhat takes place when the window is open; you can never judge from thiswhat 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 cheeksand glowing eyes, her contretemps. 

"And, " she said in conclusion, "Father, Mamma, nothing you can say willmake 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 herfather, looking at her with something softer than disapproval; "but inthis 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 thedoctor, I shall speak to him of it. "

"There will be no occasion, dear, " remonstrated the indulgent father, atsight 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 sosmooth as one of many children may think; every action of the formerassumes such prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and veryoften sent to Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-luckyoffspring 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 sailingtoward dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears. Possibly she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smoothstream of delight. When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warningblack lurking in the far horizon. Without doubt the girl's soul andsympathies were receiving their proper food. Life was full for her, notbecause she was occupied, --for a busy life does not always prove afull one, --but because she entered thoroughly into the lives of others, struggled with their struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and wasbeginning to see in everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence. Under ordinary circumstances one cannot see much misery withoutexperiencing a world of disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; butRuth was not living just at that time under ordinary circumstances. 

Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that madeher pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twindreamstars. She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard saveonly by herself. At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly nameto herself the meaning of it all, a puritanic modesty withheld her. Yet all the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banishfrom her memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light thatfell from eyes that glanced at her. For the present, these were gracesufficient for her daily need. Given the perfume, what need to name theflower?

Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in theirdifferent ways. Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she wasgrowing more softly beautiful. Her father, holding his hands a fewinches from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzledlook, "I am afraid to touch you; sparks might fly. "

Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her handsclasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting inthe witchery of their expression. By some occult power her glancefell unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement andspeculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands wentswiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, andshe passed quickly from the room. Arnold sat down to solve this problemof an unknown quantity. 

Ruth's birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting withRose Delano. 

The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consistedonly in making the day pass pleasantly for the one whose day of days itwas, --a graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one forall concerned. 

On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in herelement. She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had wornfive years before on the occasion of some festivity. The girlish fashionof the white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, theround baby waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child ofher. 

"Who can imagine me seventeen?" she asked gayly as she entered thelibrary, softly lighted by many wax candles. Her mother, who was againenjoying the freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced inher 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 intoher mother's arms and twining her arms about her neck. 

"How now, Mr. Arnold, you can't scare me tonight with your sarcasticdisapproval!" she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousinseated in a deep blue-cushioned chair. 

"I have no desire to scare you, little one, " he answered pleasantly. "Ionly 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 fleshnor 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 mysteryperpetual. You alone can unriddle the riddle. "

"I can't. I give myself up. "

"Not so fast, young woman, " broke in her father, shutting his magazineand settling his glasses more firmly upon his nose; "that is an office Ialone can perform. Who has been hunting on my preserves?"

"Alas! They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score. " She satup with a forlorn sigh, adding, "Think of it, Father, twenty-two, andnot 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 ToddieFlynn's. Mamma, don't you think I am too big a baby for you to holdlong?" 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 itshort 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'swarehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but hewas 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 ofus, but what is the analogy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feelas 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, thoseglasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Didyou ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?"

"Yes; there is a standing institution of whose honest value there is nodoubt. "

"And that is?"

"My bed. "

"After all, it is a lying institution, my friend; and are you notdeposing your masculine muse, --your cigar? Oh, that reminds me of theannual peace-pipe. "

She jumped up, snatched a candle, and left the room. As she turnedtoward the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell. She stood quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid openedthe door. 

"Is Miss Levice in?" asked the voice that made the little candle-lightseem like myriads of swimming stars. As the maid answered in theaffirmative, she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancingeyes of Dr. Kemp. 

"Good-evening, " she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which hegrasped 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 thelibrary? We are having a little home evening together. "

"Thank you. Directly. " He slipped out of his topcoat, and turningquietly 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 hiscompelling eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room. Henoticed how the soft light she held made her the only white spot in thedark room, till, touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo overeverything. That it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at aglance. 

She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself ina quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread likehands of blessing above her head. The doctor declined to sit down, butstood 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 intruth the divine lady with the light. It is a pretty name and a prettyfame, --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 youso, and have all rights reserved. May I?"

"I am afraid, " she answered, raising her eyes, "that your poem wouldbe without rhyme or reason; a candle is too slight a thing for such anassumption. "

"But not a Rose Delano. I saw her to-day, and at least one suffererwould turn to kiss your shadow. Do you know what a wonderfully beautifulthing you have done? I came to-night to thank you; for any one who makesgood our ideals is a subject for thanks. Of course, the thing had nopersonal bearing upon myself; but being an officious fellow, I thoughtit proper to let you know that I know. That is my only excuse forcoming. "

"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 economywould not be a half-bad idea. Shall we go in to your family now, or willthey not think you have been spirited away?"

He took the candle from her, and they retraced their steps. As sheturned 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'sroom, she seated herself blindly and looked aimlessly down at her hands. What a blessed reprieve this was! If she could but stay here! She couldif it were not for the peace-pipe. Such a silly performance too! Fatherkept those superfine cigars over in the cabinet there. Should she bringonly two as usual? Then she was going? Why not? It would look very rudenot to do so. Besides, she wondered what they were talking about. Shesupposed she must have looked very foolish in that gown with her hairall mussed; and then his eyes---- She arose suddenly and walked to thedressing-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 becolorless. 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 thehappy 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 temptingHavanas. She selected one, and placing the box on a chair, reached tothe high-tiled mantel-shelf, whence she took a tiny pair of scissors anddeftly cut off the point of the cigar. She seemed quite unconscious thatall were watching her. Louis handed her a lighted match, and putting thecigar 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 theslightest approach to Bohemianism, gave it into Louis's outstretchedhand. 

"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 theyear 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 inthe same manner as other common mortals. "

She stood still, but withdrew her hand a little as if repelling the hinthis words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, sayingas 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 thesmoking!"

She swept him a deep, mock courtesy. 

After this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation. Sheknew that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages fora bachelor of club life over home life. She knew that Louis was makingsome brilliantly cynical remarks, --asserting that the apparent privacyof the latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the formerwas deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter. All ofwhich the doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic. 

"Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor, " Mrs. Levicesummed up, "and that is to marry. Louis complains of the club, andthinks himself a sort of cynosure in a large household. You, Doctor, complain of the want of coseyness in a bachelor establishment. To stateit simply, you need a wife. "

"And oust my Pooh-ba! Madame, you do not know what a treasure that oldsoldier of mine is. If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but bepaying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house andlinen; 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 soself-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 voucheragainst impatience with their own foibles. They think only home practicecan secure the adequate tolerance. Eh, Aunt Esther?"

"Nonsense, Louis!" interrupted Mr. Levice; "what has that to do withskill?"

"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 toeach other in their respective easy-chairs, their heads thrown back uponthe cushions, their arms resting on the chair-arms. Something in Louis'sveiled eyes caused her to interpose. 

"Will you play, Louis?" she asked. 

"Not to-night, ma cousine, " he replied, glancing at her from loweredlids. 

"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 randomchords, some soft, some florid, some harsh, some melting; he strung themtogether and then glided into a dreamy, melodious rhythm, that fadedinto a bird-like hallelujah, --swelling now into grandeur, then faintinginto sobs, then rushing into an allegro so brilliantly bewildering thatwhen the closing chords came like the pealing tones of an organ, Ruthdrew 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 namethat I know of; some people call it 'The Soul. '"

A pained sensation shot through Ruth at his words, for he had plainlybeen improvising, and he must have felt what he had played. 

"Here, Ruth, sing this, " he continued, turning round and picking up asheet 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; butsince 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'sside. 

It could hardly be called singing. Louis had often said that her voiceneeded merely to be set to rhythmic time to be music; in pursuance ofwhich idea he would put into her hand some poem that touched hisfancy, tell her to read it, and as she read, he would adapt to itan accompaniment according to the meaning and measure of thelines, --grandly solemn, daintily tripping, or wildly inspiriting. It wasmore 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 swelledand echoed and reverberated and died away slowly as if loath to depart. Arnold's playing was the poem, Ruth's voice the music the poetmight have heard as he wrote, sweet as a violin, deep as the feelingevolved, --for when she came to the line beginning, "oh, love, they diein 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 theexpression of her face. Kemp looked as if he would not tire if the soundshould "grow forever and forever. "

Mrs. Levice was wakeful after she had gone to bed. Her husband alsoseemed inclined to prolong the night, for he made no move to undress. 

"Jules, " said she in a low, confidential tone, "do you realize that ourdaughter 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 husbandeagerly. 

"Is it possible, " she exclaimed, "that we have both thought of the sameparti?"

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 neverbreathed 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 hiseyes. 

"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 merelycommonplace young man would make her happy. A man must have some ideasoutside of what his daily life brings him, if she is to spend a moment'sinterested thought on him. She has repelled some of the most eligibleadvances for no obvious reasons whatever. Now, she does not care a rapfor society, and goes only because I exact it. That is no conditionfor a young girl to allow herself to sink into; she owes a duty toher future. I am telling you this because, of course, you see nothingpeculiar in such a course. But it is time you were roused; you knowone look from you is worth a whole sermon from me. As to my thinking ofLouis, well, in running over my list of eligibles, I found he fulfilledevery condition, --good-looking, clever, cultivated, well-to-do, and--ofgood family. Why should it not be? They like each other, and see enoughof 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 orRuth?"

"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; sheran 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 akeen student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse ofsomething in the doctor's eyes while Ruth sang. He knew it had beenharmless, for her back had been turned, but he wished to reassurehimself. 

"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 handunder 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 youany fine silk shirts?"

He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh. 

"Well, no, " he answered; "I leave all such fancies to your care. So wego 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, anddrawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweetsolemnity, --

"'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 untilthe gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in thequiet autumn, could put a crown to her recovery. 

Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was tocontinue the management of the household affairs until their return, amonth later. Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had tobe put in running order for a month, and she realized with a pang atparting with some of her simple, sincere proteges that were this part ofher life withdrawn, the rest would pall insufferably. 

The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the stepsof 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, withoutobviously looking toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth waslooking well in a plain black gown which she had had no time to changeafter her late shopping. She did not know that, close and isolatedas the young man and woman stood, not only were they silent, but eachappeared oblivious of the other's presence. 

Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreathsof blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under adream-spell. 

As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the brokensentence, --

"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 getsat 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 toJennie'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 hatand jacket while you decide. "

Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and alight 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 ratherfreckled when you arrive at Beacham's. "

He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed herdown to the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward thevalley. Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched themsaunter off. When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turnedaround and sang gayly to Mr. Levice, "'Ca va bien!'"

The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the westand sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-colorand molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale greento the northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft andlanguorous after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, ormandolin sounded through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest wasover all. 

They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciouslyturned into one of the dividing streets toward Franklin. Suddenly Arnoldfelt his companion start, and saw she had taken her far-off gaze fromthe landscape. Following the direction of her eyes, he also straightenedup. The disturbing object was a slight black column attached to a gardenfence and bearing in small gold letters the simple name, Dr. HerbertKemp. 

As they approached nearer, Arnold knew of a certainty that there wouldbe more speaking signs of the doctor's propinquity. His forecasting wasnot at fault. 

Dr. Kemp's quaint, dark-red cottage, with its flower-edged lawn, wasreached by a flight of low granite steps, at the top of which loungedthe medical gentleman in person. He was not heaven-gazing, but seemedplunged in tobacco-inspired meditation of the flowers beneath him. Arnold's quick eye detected the pink flush that rose to the little earof his cousin. The sound of their footsteps on the stone sidewalkcame faintly to Kemp; he raised his eyes slowly and indifferently. Theindifference vanished when he recognized them. 

With a hasty movement he threw the cigar from him and ran down thesteps. 

"Good-evening, " he called, raising his old slouch hat and arrestingtheir 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 toArnold and looking with happy eyes at Ruth. She noticed that there was amarked difference in his appearance from anything she had been usedto. His figure looked particularly tall and easy in a loose dark velvetjacket, thrown open from his broad chest; the large sombrero-like hatwhich had settled on the back of his head left to view his dark hairbrushed carelessly backward; an unusual color was on his cheek, and awarm glow in his gray eyes. 

"I hope, " he went on, frankly transferring his attention to Ruth, "thisweather will continue. We shall have a magnificent autumn; the woodsmust 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, buthe said quickly, --

"That is an old hunting-ground of mine. The river teems with speckledtreasures. 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 dayon 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 professionalman has no such bond; his will is his master. "

"Hardly, or I should have slipped cables long ago. A restful night is anunknown 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. Hesmiled. 

"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 helooked at her. 

Arnold drew her arm within his, and they walked off. 

They say that the first thing a Frenchman learns in studying the Englishlanguage 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 firstlinguistic victory; and now as he replaced his hat in reply to Kemp, hedistinctly though coolly said, "Damn him. "

Ruth looked at him, startled; but the composed, non-committal expressionof 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, hercousin following her leisurely. 

She had scarcely rung the bell when the door was opened by Mrs. Lewisherself. 

"Good-evening, Ruth; why, Mr. Arnold doesn't mean to say that he does usthe 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 weresurprised to find me in the hall; I had just come from putting thechildren to bed. They were in mischievous spirits and annoyed theirfather, who wished to be very quiet this evening. "

By this time they had reached the room at the end of the hall, the doorof which she threw open. 

Jewish people, as a rule, use their dining-rooms to sit in, keeping thedrawing-rooms for company only. This is always presupposing that theyhave no extra sitting-room. After all, a dining-room is not a bad placefor the family gathering, having a large table as an objective plane fora round game, which also serves as a support for reading matter; whilefrom an economical point of view it preserves the drawing-rooms inreception stiffness and ceremonious newness. 

The apartment they entered was large and square, and contained theregulation chairs, table, and silver and crystal loaded sideboard. 

Upon the mantel-piece, the unflickering light from a waxen taper burningin a glass of oil lent an unusual air of Sabbath quiet to the room. 

"I have 'Yahrzeit' for my mother, " explained Jo Lewis, glancing towardthe 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 ofa 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 heseemed to have but one idea, --the amassing of wealth. With her moreintellectual cravings, the continual striving for this, to the exclusionof all higher aspirations, put him on a plane too narrow for herfooting. Unpolished he certainly was, but the rough, exposed grain ofhis unhewn nature showed many strata of strength and virility. In thisgentle mood a tenderness had come into view that drew her to him with atouch 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 yesterdayI was a boy crying because my mother had gone away forever. " The strongman wiped his eyes. 

"The little light casts a long ray, " observed Ruth. "Love builds itsown lighthouse, and by its gleaming we travel back as at a leap to thatwhich seemed eternally lost. "

Jo Lewis sighed. Presently the thoughts that so strongly possessed himfound 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 havesaid to the powers my mother showed. We were poor, but poor to a degreeof which you can know nothing. Well, with a large family of smallchildren she struggled on alone and managed to keep us not only alive, but clean and respectable. In our village Sara Lewis was a name thatevery man and woman honored as if it belonged to a princess. Jennie isa good woman, but life is made easy for her. I often think how grand mymother would feel if she were here, and I were able to give her everycomfort. God knows how proud and happy I would have been to say, 'Youhave struggled enough, Mother; life is going to be a heaven on earth toyou now. ' Well, well, what is the good of thinking of it? To-morrowI shall go down town and deal with men, not memories; it is moreprofitable. "

"Not always, " said Arnold, dryly. The two men drifted into a businessdiscussion that neither Mrs. Lewis nor Ruth cared to follow. 

"Are you quite ready?" asked Mrs. Lewis, drawing her chair closer toRuth'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 12thof September, and we must give the house its usual holiday cleaning. "

"I have begun already. Somehow I never thought you would mind beingaway. "

"Why, we always go to the Temple, you know; and I would not miss theAtonement 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 thereanything odd about that?"

"I suppose not. By the way, if there is anything you would like to havedone while you are away, let me know. "

"I think I have seen to everything. You might run in and see Louis nowand then. "

"Louis, " Mrs. Lewis called instantly, "be sure to come in often fordinner while the folks are gone. "

"Thank you; I shall. The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enoughto 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 havethe loveliest cakes. "

"Oh, Jennie, " remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, "we havejust dined. "

"Let her enjoy herself, " observed Louis; "she is never so happy as whenshe is feeding somebody. "

The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis's rosy face appearedbehind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-lookinglittle 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 hisnext 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 havehardly 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 youwill 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 askme 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 simplemonosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her likea 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 underhis mustache, the girl's heart beating suffocatingly. When he spoke, hisvoice 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 perfectsilence 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 abrotherly cousin. "

"The difference is not clear to me--but--how did you learn thedifference?"

"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, evenif there is a difference, I still ask you to be my wife. You would notregret it, Ruth, I think. "

His voice was not soft, but there was a certain strained pleading aboutit that pained her inexpressibly. 

"Louis, " she said, with slow distinctness, her hand moving down untilit touched his, "I never thought of this as a possibility. You know howmuch I have always loved you, dear; but oh, Louis, will it hurt you verymuch, 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 Ihave in the world; it is not despicable. Your family, I know, would bepleased. Besides, it would be well for you--God knows, not because I amwhat I am, but for other reasons. Wait. I beg of you not to answer metill you have thought it over. You know me; I am no saint, but a man whowould give his life for you. I ask of you nothing but the right to guardyours. 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 cannotmarry you, Louis. My answer would be the same to-morrow or at the end ofall 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 itbother you. Your answer has put it entirely from my mind. I should bepleased if you would forget it as readily as I shall. I hardly thinkwe 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 herlips. 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 reachednowadays through one of the finest pieces of engineering skill in theState. The tortuous route through the mountains, over trestle-bridgesthat span what seem, from the car-windows, like bottomless chasms, needs must hold some compensation at the end to counterbalance the fearsengendered on the way. The higher one goes the more beautiful becomesthe scenery among the wild, marvellous redwoods that stand like mammothguides pointing heavenward; and Beacham's realizes expectation. 

It is a quiet little place, with its one hotel and two attachedcottages, its old, disused saw-mill, its tiny schoolhouse beyond thefairy-like woods, its one general merchandise store, where cheeseand calico, hats and hoes, ham and hominy, are forthcoming uponsolicitation. It is by no means a fashionable resort; the Levices hadsearched for something as unlike the Del Monte and Coronado as milk isunlike champagne. They were looking for a pretty, healthful spot, withgood accommodations and few social attractions, and Beacham's offeredthis. 

They were not disappointed. Ruth's anticipation was fulfilled when shesaw the river. Russian River is about as pretty a stream as one can viewupon 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-boatwhich she immediately secured, Ruth pushed her way into enchantment. Theriver winds in and out through exquisite coves entangled in a wildernessof brambles and lace-like ferns that are almost transparent as theybend and dip toward the silvery waters; while, climbing over the rockycliffs, run bracken and the fragrant yerba-buena, till, on high, theycreep 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 orlittle Ethel Tyrrell; in the evening one of the Tyrrell boys, generallyWill, was her gallant chevalier. But it was always Ruth who rowed, --Ruthin her pretty sailor blouses, with her strong round arms and steadilybrowning hands; Ruth, whose creamy face and neck remained provokinglyunreddened, and took on only a little deeper tint, as if a dashof bistre had been softly applied. It was pleasant enough rowingdown-stream with Ruth; she always knew when to sing "Nancy Lee, " andwhen "White Wings" sounded prettiest. There were numerous covestoo, where she loved to beach her boat, --here to fill a flask withhoney-sweet water from a rollicking little spring that came merrilydashing over the rocks, here to gather some delicate ferns ormaiden-hair with which to decorate the table, or the trailingyerba-buena for festooning the boat. But Ethel Tyrrell, aged three, thought they had the "dolliest" time when she and Ruth, having rowed aspace out of sight, jumped out, and taking off their shoes and stockingsand making other necessary preliminaries to wading, pattered alongover the pebbly bottom, screaming when a sharp stone came against theirtender feet, and laughing gleefully when the water rose a little higherthan they had bargained for; then, when quite tired, they would retireto the beach or the boat and dry themselves with the soft damask of thesun. 

Ruth was happy. There were moments when the remembrance of herlast meeting with Louis came like a summer cloud over the ineffablebrightness 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 notbe so strong as to make him suffer poignantly over her refusal. Shewas almost convinced that he had asked her more from a whim ofgood-fellowship, a sudden desire, perhaps a preference for her closecompanionship when he did marry, than from any deeper emotion. Inconsequence of these reflections her musings were not so sad as theymight otherwise have been. 

Her parents laughed to see how she revelled in the freedom of theold-fashioned little spot, which, though on the river, was decidedly"out of the swim. " It was late in the season, and there were few guestsat the hotel. The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other beingused by a pair of belated turtle-doves, --the wife a blushing dot of awoman, the husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walkslike a devoted weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptivecough, a natty little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and thegolden-haired Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell couldnot enjoy his hard-earned rest without one and all. They were such arefined, happy, sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, thatthe Levices were attracted to them at once. To be with Mrs. Tyrrellone whole day, Mrs. Levice said was a liberal education, --so bright, souncomplaining, so ambitious for her children was she, and such a helpand inspiration to her hard-worked husband. Mr. Levice tramped aboutthe woods with Tyrrell and brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moralbravery of a man who struggled on with a happy face and small hope forany earthly rest. But the children!--Floy with her dreamy face and busysketch-book, Will with his halo of golden hair, his manly figure andbroad, open ambitions, Boss with his busy step and fishing-tackle, andbaby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran after Ruth the first time she sawher and begged her to come and play with her; ever since, she formeda part of the drapery of Ruth's skirt or a rather cumbersome necklaceabout her neck. Every girl who has been debarred the blessing of babiesin the house loves them promiscuously and passionately. Ruth was noexception; it amused the ladies to watch her cuddle the child and wonderaloud 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 ofa fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, wouldsaunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions. 

The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems sonear, are just the time for such talk. 

They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamygown and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hatin his hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he lovedto do. 

"What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?" asked theboy suddenly. 

"Well, law is one--" she began. 

"That's the way Papa begins, " he interrupted impatiently; "but I'll tellyou what I think is the greatest. Guess, now. "

"The ministry?" she ventured. 

"Oh, of course; but I'm not good enough for that, --that takesexceptions. Guess again. "

"Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery, --that is it. You would be abrave soldier, Willikins, my man. "

"No, sir, " he replied, flinging back his head; "I don't want to takelives; I want to save them. "

"You mean a physician, Will?"

"That's it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon. Don't you think thattakes bravery? And it's a long sight better than being a soldier; hedraws blood to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?"

"Indeed, you are right, " she answered dreamily, her thoughts wanderingbeyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about todescent the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag camesuddenly upon them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouthgaping 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, Itook 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. Haveyou the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me. "

Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It wasstill light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and openedthem. 

"This, " she announced in a matter-of-course way, "is from Miss DorothyGwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea nextSaturday. 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 tothe point. 

SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 18, 188--. 

MISS RUTH LEVICE:

MY DEAR FRIEND, --That you may not denounce me as too presumptuous, Ishall at once explain that I am writing this at Bob's urgent desire. Hehas at length got the position at the florist's, and tells me to tellyou that he is now happy. I dropped in there last night; and when hegave me this message, I told him that I feared you would take it as anadvertisement. He merely smiled, picked up a Marechal Niel that lay onthe 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. Itwas a very cold note, and she put it in her pocket to keep it warm. Therose 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 thegreatest opportunity in the world to be great--and a surgeon comes nearit? 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 toher only as Bob's amanuensis, --it was plain enough. And yet, andyet, she thought passionately, it would have been no more than commonetiquette to send a friendly word from himself to her mother. Still thenote was not thrown away. Girls are so irrational; if they cannot havethe hand-shake, they will content themselves with a sight of the glove. 

And Ruth in the warm, throbbing, summer days was happy. She was notalways active; there were long afternoons when mere existence wasintensely beautiful. To lie at full length upon the soft turf in thedepths of the small enchanted woods, and hear and feel the countlessspells of Nature, was unspeakable rapture. 

"Ah, Floy, " she cried one afternoon, as she lay with her face turned upto the great green boughs that seemed pencilled against the azure sky, "if one could paint what one feels! Look at these silent, living treesthat stand in all their grandeur under some mighty spell; see how thewonderful heaven steals through the leaves and throws its blue softnessupon 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 seethrough 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 inthe 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, " answeredthe girl, resting her sober eyes upon Ruth's enraptured countenance. 

One afternoon Ruth took a book and Ethel over the tramway to this fairyspot. It was very warm and still. Mrs. Levice had swung herself to sleepin the hammock, and Mr. Levice was dozing and talking in snatches to theTyrrells, who were likewise resting on the Levices' veranda. All Naturewas drowsy, as Ruth wandered off with the little one, who chattered onas was her wont. 

"Me and you's yunnin' away, " she chatted; "we's goin' to a fowest, andby and by two 'ittle birdies will cover us up wid leaves. My! Won't mymamma be sorry? No darlin' 'ittle Ethel to pank and tiss no more. PoorMamma!"

"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 liehere 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 toyou. "

"Will He? Ven all yight. "

Ruth took off her hat and prepared to enjoy herself. As her head touchedthe green earth, she saw the little maiden seat herself on the log, andturning her face sideways, say in her pleasant, piping voice, --

"How-de-do, Dod?" And having made her acknowledgments, all her fearsvanished. 

Ruth laughed softly to herself, and straightway began to read. Theafternoon burned itself away. Ethel played and sang and danced abouther, quite oblivious of the heat, till, tired out, she threw herselfinto Ruth's arms. 

"Sing by-low now, " she demanded sleepily; "pay it's night, and you andme's in a yockin'-chair goin' to by-low land. "

Ruth realized that the child was weary, and drawing her little head toher bosom, threw off the huge sunbonnet and ruffled up the damp, goldenlocks. 

"What shall I sing, darling?" she mused: she was unused to singingbabies to sleep. Suddenly a little kindergarten melody she had heardcame to her, and she sang softly in her rich, tender contralto theswinging 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 hershoulder 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 seethrough the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child. Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp, --Dr. Kemp inloose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of hishead was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned, --a waveof color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth, --a woman'sface dare not speak sometimes. 

"Did I startle you?" he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, thegolden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure. 

"Yes, " she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped intosilence. 

She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly downtill 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; andthen, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In thatmoment 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 armagainst 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 myselect spots. I knew you would ferret it out. "

"It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon isgrowing 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 caneasily go away again. "

"Was I so rude?" she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. "I did notmean 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 asshe 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 voicehe knew how so well to use with children. The baby's blue eyes smiled inresponse to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. Thereis nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a littlechild 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'sbirthnight by a vague something in Kemp's eyes. The feeling, however, had vanished gradually in the knowledge that the doctor always hada peculiarly intent gaze, and, moreover, no one could have helpedappreciating her loveliness that night. This, of itself, will bringa softness into a man's manner; and without doubt his fears had beengroundless, --fears that he had not dared to put into words. For old manas he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp's strong personality was such aswould prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom he cared to honorwith his favor; but with a "Get thee behind me, Satan" desire, hehad put the question from him. He could have taken his oath on Ruth'sheart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his misgivingsreturned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was at his ease asthey came up. 

"This is a surprise, Doctor, " he exclaimed cordially, opening the gateand 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 theground and watching her scamper off to the hotel; "and what is more, " hecontinued, turning to him, "I have not brought a hamper, which makes oneof me. "

"You calculate without your host, " responded Levice; "this is averitable land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wiferhapsodize. "

"How is she?" he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse ofRuth's vanishing figure. 

"Feeling quite well, " replied Levice; "she is all impatience now for adelirious winter season. "

"I thought so, " laughed the doctor; "but if you take my advice, you willdraw the bit slightly. "

Mrs. Levice was delighted to see him; she said it was like the sight ofa cable-car in a desert. He protested at such a stupendous comparison, and insisted that she make clear that the dummy was not included. Theshort afternoon glided into evening, and Dr. Kemp went over to the hoteland dined at the Levices' table. 

Ruth, in a white wool gown, sat opposite him. It was the first timehe had dined with them; and he enjoyed a singular feeling over thesituation. He noticed that although Mrs. Levice kept up an almostincessant flow of talk, she ate a hearty meal, and that Ruth, who wasunusually quiet, tasted scarcely anything. Her father also observed it, and resolved upon a course of strict surveillance. He was glad to hearthat the doctor had to leave on the early morning's train, though, ofcourse, he did not say so. As they strolled about afterward, he managedto keep his daughter with him and allowed Kemp to appropriate his wife. 

They finally drifted to the cottage-steps, and were enjoying the beautyof the night when Will Tyrrell presented himself before them. 

"Good-evening, " he said, taking off his hat as he stood at the foot ofthe steps. "Mr. Levice, Father says he has at last scared up two othergentlemen; and will you please come over and play a rubber of whist?"

Mr. Levice felt himself a victim of circumstances. He and Mr. Tyrrellhad been looking for a couple of opponents, and had almost given up thesearch. Now, when he decidedly objected to moving, it would have beenheartless not to go. 

"Don't consider me, " said the doctor, observing his hesitancy. "If itill 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 ofthe doctor. "

If she had promised to take care of Ruth, it would have been more tohis mind; but since his wife was there, what harm could accrue that hispresence would prevent? So with a sincere apology he went over to thehotel. 

He hardly appreciated what an admirable aide he had left behind him inhis 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 withMrs. Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intentlyconscious of Ruth's white figure perched on the window-sill. 

How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but shewas 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 hearda word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?"

"And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered afine oar at my Alma Mater. "

"And I hazarded the suggestion, " added Mrs. Levice, "that as it is sucha 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 neverallowed any one to usurp my oars. "

"As yet, " corrected Kemp. "Then will you wrap something about you andcome 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 littleboat will be the proverbial trumpery. Still, I suppose I can rely on youtwo crack oarsmen, though you know the slightest tremble in the boat inthe 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 bargainedfor. How could her mother be so blind as not to know or feel her desireto evade Dr. Kemp? She felt a positive contempt for herself that hispresence should affect her as it did; she dared not look at him lest herheart should flutter to her eyes. Probably the display amused him. Whatwas she to him anyway but a girl with whom he could flirt in hisidle moments? Well (with a passionate fling of her arms), she wouldextinguish her uncontrollable little beater for the nonce; she wouldmeet and answer every one of his long glances in kind. 

She wound a black lace shawl around her head, and with some wraps forher mother, came out. 

"Hadn't you better put something over your shoulders?" he askeddeferentially 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 hershoulder. 

"Why, " he said in surprise, coming toward her, "you keep your oars athome?"

"On the principle of 'neither a borrower nor a lender be;' we find itsaves 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 broadbone of contention to his shoulder. Then without a look he turned andoffered his arm to Mrs. Levice. 

The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashedbefore them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty ofthe bewildering heavens. As they approached the river, the faint susurracame to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing inthe distance. 

"Others are enjoying themselves also, " he remarked as their feet touchedthe pebbly beach. A faint crescent moon shone over the water. Ruth wentstraight to the little boat aground on the shore. 

"It looks like a cockle-shell, " he said, as he put one foot in aftershoving 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 hisexceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth. 

"I was waiting for you to move from my place, " she said in defiantmischief, standing motionless beside the boat. 

"Your place? Ah, yes; now, " he said, holding out his hand to her, "willyou step in?"

She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as thelittle 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 answerednonchalantly, smiling down at her. 

With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in thestern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne. 

"You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice, " hesaid pleasantly. 

"That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is notvery inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look boredif I wax too discursive. "

It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp's knees were not half a footfrom Ruth's white gown. 

"Will you direct me?" he said, as he swept around. "I have not rowed onthis river for two or three years. "

"You can keep straight ahead for some distance, " she said, leaning backin her seat. 

She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowedlightly down the river. His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed hisstrong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, andhis dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with gravesweetness. She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from theshort range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded hergood vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze. 

Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdothe night in brilliancy. For a while Kemp maintained a sort ofRoland-for-an-Oliver conversation with her; but with his eyescontinually straying to the girl before him, it became ratherdifficult. Some merry rowers down the river were singing college songsharmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum with them, her voicegradually subsiding into a faint murmur. The balmy, summer-freightedair made her feel drowsy. She listened absently to Ruth's occasionalwarnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars. 

"Now we have clear sailing for a stretch, " said Ruth, as they came to abroad curve. "Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shotover that snag, Mamma?"

She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp. 

"Mamma!"

Then she straightened herself back in her seat. Kemp, noting the suddenflush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look atMrs. Levice. Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes wereclosed, 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 oldlove-song, "Juanita;" overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low fromthe floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tendernight, and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamypart of it. Against the black lace about her head her face shone likea cameo, her eyes were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed tobreathe, 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 touchedthe water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks, --they wereunconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; thetender 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 againrocking 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 hisworshipping eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears. 

"Doctor, " called a startled voice, "row out; I am right under thetrees. "

They both started. Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake. They haddrifted into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs. 

"I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?" shecomplained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh. "Did notyou see where we were going?"

"No, " she answered a little breathlessly; "I believe I am growingfar-sighted. "

"It must be time to sight home now, " said her mother; "I am quitechilly. "

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 startedup the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom ofthe boat. 

"Wait for us, Ruth, " called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figurestood still till they came up. 

"You are so slow, " she said with a reckless little laugh; "I feel as ifI could fly home. "

"Are you light-headed, Ruth?" asked her mother, but the girl had fallenbehind 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, flittingbefore 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 itas they drew near. 

"Then you will not be home till Monday, " he said, taking Mrs. Levice'shand 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 fingersclosed 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 hepassed, a tall, dark figure, down the shadowy road. 

When Mr. Levice returned from his game of whist, he quietly opened thedoor of his daughter's bedroom and looked in. All was well; the wolf haddeparted, and his lamb slept safe in the fold. 

But in the dark his lamb's eyes were mysteriously bright. Sleep! Withthis new crown upon her! Humble as the beautiful beggar-maid must havefelt when the king raised her, she wondered why she had been thuschosen by one whom she had deemed so immeasurably above her. And thisis another phase of woman's love, --that it exalts the beloved beyond allreasoning. 

Chapter XVI

At six o'clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greenswere gently warming under the sun's first rays. At seven the early trainthat Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave. Ruth, with this knowledgeat heart, had softly risen and left the cottage. Close behind the depotrose a wooded hill. She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; andwhat was to prevent her doing so now? It afforded an excellent view ofthe 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 broadhat form her happy eyes. She paused a moment, looking up at the woodedhill-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 ahand's breadth of her. 

"Oh, " she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, "I did not mean--Idid not expect--"

"Nor did I, " he said in a low voice; "chance is kinder to us thanourselves--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 aswift-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, "thisis worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long. "

In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly daredmeet 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 traincoming?"

"Are you so anxious to have me go?"

Her hand closed tightly around his. 

"Because, " laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I havesomething to ask you. "

"To ask me?"

"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess? Ruth, will you bless me stillfurther? Will you be my wife, love?"

A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewilderingtenderness. "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; hedecides everything for me. "

"I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaitinghim at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted lastnight, 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 theout-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kempwhere he belonged, --to his busy practice, --and leaving his child's peaceundisturbed. Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed himto drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite andhappy talk? No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shownin her; but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resortto flirtation, and anything deeper was out of the question. He mustcertainly 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 thehotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting acigar, 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 smallenvelope. A flush rose to the old gentleman's sallow cheek as he tookit. 

"Thank you, " he said; "I believe I shall come in here for a fewminutes. "

He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chairnear the window. He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightlynervous manner, and adjusted them hastily. The missive was addressed tohim, 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 Imust leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operationto undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare youmore fully, but time presses. Simply, then, I love your daughter. I toldher so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest andhappiest of men by returning my love. I am well aware what I am askingof you when I ask her of you to be my wife. You know me personally; youknow my financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings withmercy in the knowledge of our great love. Till Monday night, then, Ileave 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 pallorof 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 inthe doorway again. 

Levice sat on. No further sound broke from him; he had clinched histeeth 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 easymatter; but hers, Ruth's. God! If she really loved, her father knewonly too well how she would love. Was the man crazy? Had he entirelyforgotten the gulf that lay between them? Great drops of perspirationrose to his forehead. Two ideas held him in a desperate struggle, --hischild's happiness; the prejudice of a lifetime. Something conqueredfinally, and he arose quietly and walked slowly off. 

Through the trees he heard laughter. He walked round and saw herswinging 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 toput off this meeting with her father. She gave the swing another pushand waited his approach with beating heart. 

"The boys will excuse you, Ruth, I think; I wish you to come for a shortwalk with me. "

At his voice, the gentle seriousness of which penetrated even to theTyrrell 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 struckinto the lane leading to the woods. Mr. Levice walked along, aimlesslyknocking 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 justhanded 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 youreturn 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 herfather. All her love was in the eyes she raised to his. Beneath theirhappy glow Levice's sank and his steady lips grew pale. 

They were away from mankind in the shelter of the woods, the birds gaylycarolling their matins above them. 

"And you desire to become his wife?"

Neck, face, and ears were suffused with color as she falteredunsteadily, --

"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 hisshoulder, "I am so happy, so happy! It seems almost too beautiful to betrue. "

The old man's trembling hand smoothed the soft little tendrils of hairthat had escaped from their pins. He stifled a groan as he was thusdisarmed. 

"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 yourson-in-law, Father darling?"

Levice's hand fell suddenly on her shoulder. He schooled himself tosmile quietly upon her. 

"Dr. Kemp is a great friend of mine. He is a gentleman whom all theworld honors, not only for his professional worth, but for his manlyqualities. I am not surprised that you love him, nor yet that he lovesyou--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 yourhappiness?"

"Father, I know it. "

"Then I tell you I can never bring myself to approve of a marriagebetween you and a Christian. There can be no true happiness in such aunion. "

"Why not? Inasmuch as all my life you have taught me to look uponmy Christian friends as upon my Jewish, and since you admit himirreproachable 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, itenforces; think of the great difference between the Jewish race andthe Christians; and if, after you have measured with the deadliestearnestness every duty that married life brings, you can still believethat 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 mentionanything of this to you?"

"No; he must have forgotten it as I did, or rather, if I ever thought ofit, it was a mere passing shadow. I put it aside with the thought thatthough you and I had never discussed such a circumstance, judging by allyour other actions in our relations with Christians, you would be aboveconsidering such a thing a serious obstacle to two people's happiness. "

"You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down todetail, and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas. However, Ishall remind Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then--you willnot object to this?"

"Oh, no; but I know--I know--" What did she know except of the greatnessof his love that would annihilate all her father's forebodings?

"Yes, " her father answered the half-spoken thought; "I know too. Butponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night, when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase ofthis terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say. "

Love is so selfish. Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she hadnever failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and thesad 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 lookedat 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. Nowgo back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet. Ishall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something tothink 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 youare a Christian? Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider thisquestion from every possible point of view. If then both you and mydaughter can satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedlyhave, 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 intopygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only insmiling at their feebleness. Love was an Armada, and bore down upon thelittle armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms. 

Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as littleRose Delano stood in Ruth's room looking up into her friend's face, thedreamy, starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples aboutthe 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 Nielbuds, almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was notunknown. 

"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. "Youlook as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir. "

"So I have, " laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; "ithas made a 'nut-brown mayde' of me, I think, Rosebud. But tell me thecity news. Everything in running order? Tell me. "

"Everything is as your kind help has willed it. I have a pleasant littleroom with a middle-aged couple on Post Street. Altogether I earn tendollars over my actual monthly expenses. Oh, Miss Levice, when shall Ibe able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?"

"Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that iswhy I am so happy. "

"You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes. Yet thefirst time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have ahistory. "

"Sad?" The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose. 

She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voicesounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her. 

"I am no sorceress, " she answered evasively but lightly; "look in theglass 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--performedFriday?"

"No. " She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush ofblood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she hadhad one lesson. 

"I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving MissDora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two littleones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. Oneof the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a verydelicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slippedquietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came outof 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 myhand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, MissLevice, he has no parallel but himself!"

It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. Itwas only very sweet and true. 

"I knew just what he must be when I saw him, " the girl babbled on; "thatwas why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and hisstrong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive meif I tire you; you see he sent you to me. "

"You do not tire me, Rose, " she said gravely. And the same expressionrested 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 waspartially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice. If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgottenin the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he hadspoken a few disturbing words to her:

"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certainproject 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. Hewas regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark. 

"Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" shequestioned, her voice slightly trembling. 

"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calmreasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what Itold you to consider, Ruth?"

"No, Father. "

She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt inchildhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had wornthis same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; thepain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimandnever 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 colorwas upon her. 

A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighteddrawing-room and waited for Kemp. 

When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck himimmediately. 

She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had someold-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first ofall to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush roseslowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught herswiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her. 

"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are youtired 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 flownbodily 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 yourexit on his entrance. "

"No, " she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the role of the audienceto-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"

He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greetedhim settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew itquickly to his breast. 

"I think it is well that you remain, " he said, "because we agree at anyrate 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 thrilledhim oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth movedlike a bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step hadgiven her the momentary courage thus to address him. 

He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed astriking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silveryhair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, servedas a foil to the other's bright, handsome figure. 

Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is morethoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is afreemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is asign of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise. Levice's hand closed tightly about the doctor's large one; there was agreat 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 wishedto be remembered to you. " As he spoke, he half turned his head to whereRuth 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 thecurious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of anisosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles ofthe base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking eachpoint an alien from the others. 

There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seatedherself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from thesconce behind fell upon her father's head, each silvery hair seemed tospeak 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 bushthe thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, inperson, what I asked you in writing last Friday, --will you give me yourdaughter to be my wife?"

"I will answer you as I did in writing. Have you considered that you area 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 hadmissed 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 hislips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veinedhands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quitepeaceful. 

"It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by theirchildren upon their choice of husband or wife. In France the parents areconsulted before the daughter; it is not a bad plan. It often saves someunnecessary pangs--for the daughter. I am sorry in this case that we arenot living in France. "

"Then you object?" Kemp almost hurled the words at him. 

"I crave your patience, " answered the old man, slowly; "I have grownaccustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in thisinstance. But as you have put the question, I may answer you now. I domost solemnly and seriously object. "

Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly. The doctoralso changed color. 

"My child, " Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, "byallowing you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with myapparent sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done youa 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. Hewas white to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strongdecisiveness 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 greatoversight on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as sheis, into Christian society, --put her right in the way of loving or beingloved by any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairscould 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 suchan event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination. Ifit had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscienceand bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to thinkseriously 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 regardinghis antagonist. "I tell you I object to this marriage; that is notsaying I oppose it. There are certain things connected with it ofwhich neither you nor my daughter have probably thought. To me theyare all-powerful obstacles to your happiness. Being an old man and moreexperienced, will you permit me to suggest these points? My friend, Iam seeking nothing but my child's happiness; if, by opening the eyesof both of you to what menaces her future welfare, I can avert whatpromises 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 shallbe persuaded and admit it. Will you accept my plan?"

Kemp bowed his head. The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyesdeepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice. Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote andshadowy. 

"As you say, " began Levice, "we are not orthodox; but before we becomeorthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested withcertain hereditary traits that are unconvertible. Every Jew bears in hisblood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel. Thefarther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance. In most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we havebeen set upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginningto smile, --that is, some of us. Those whose fathers were helped onare nearer the man as he should be than those whose fathers are stillgrovelling. My child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture andrefinement can give. She is not an exception; there are thousands likeher among our Jewish girls. Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew fromhis coarser surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and hewill stand forth the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mixforever with pitch and remain undefiled. "

"No man could, " observed Kemp, as Levice paused. "But what are thesethings to me?"

"Nothing; but to Ruth, much. That is part of the bar-sinister betweenyou. Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in myfamily; but there are many families, people we visit and love, who, though possessing all the substrata of goodness, have never been movedto cast off the surface thorns that would prick your good taste assharply as any physical pain. This, of course, is not because they areJews, but because they lack refining influences in their surroundings. We look for and excuse these signs; many Christians take them as theinevitable marks of the race, and without looking further, conclude thata cultured Jew is an impossibility. "

"Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you whonumber so many of them among your friends should not make such sweepingassertions. The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader. "

"True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom mychild would be, without doubt, ostracized. This only by your people; byours it would be worse, --for she will have raised a terrible barrier byrenouncing her religion. "

"I shall never renounce my religion, Father. "

"Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would becut adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where theyrightfully belong to where they are not wanted. "

"Sir, " interrupted Kemp, "allow me to show you wherein such a state ofaffairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence. The friends wecare 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 bothdesire our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein havewe 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, andhaving each other, we can dispense with them. "

"You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would beimpossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up ofmore than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched. Theknowledge that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter. "

"But such knowledge, " interrupted Ruth's sweet voice, "would be robbedof all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love. "

Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly tohis. 

"Very well, " he responded; "count the world as nothing. You have justsaid, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion. How could thatbe when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?"

"I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any manwho would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into hislife. As for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one. My God isfixed and unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinitywould be to deny his omnipotence. As to forms, you, Father, have bred inme a contempt for all but a few. Saturday will always be my Sabbath, nomatter what convention would make me do. We have decided that writingor sewing or pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on thatday than on another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander ismore so. But on that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is theforce of custom. Any day would do as well if we were used to it, --forwho can tell which was the first and which the seventh counting fromcreation? On our New Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of timehad passed; but I live only according to one record of time, and my NewYear falls always on the 1st of January. Atonement is a sacred day tome; I could not desecrate it. Our services are magnificently beautiful, and I should feel like a culprit if debarred from their holiness. As tofasting, you and I have agreed that any physical punishment that keepsour thoughts one moment from God, and puts them on the feast that is tocome, is mere sham and pretence. After these, Father, wherein does ourreligion 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 eyeskindled brightly as he answered, --

"Why should she not? If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, bodyand 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 yourbeautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I. Lovingher, what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me. "

Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich theirlives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them thatmade every shot of his harmless. 

"I can understand, " he ventured, "that no gentleman with self-respectwould, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person's religion. You, Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that haswithstood everything and has never yet been sneered at, however itsfollowers have been persecuted. Many of its minor forms are slowly dyingout and will soon be remembered only historically; this history belongsto every one. "

"Certainly. Let us, however, stick to the point in question. You are aman who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off mostof its unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my--for yourdaughter. This distinguishes you. If I were to say the characteristichas never been unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needsno excuse. Now, sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; moreformally, a Unitarian. Our faiths are not widely divergent. We are bothliberal; otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment. Asto forms, for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity, --asort of moral backbone without which they might fall. Sunday is to me aday of rest if my patients do not need me. I enjoy hearing a good sermonby any noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that, but for the pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentlestirring up. There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that isChristmas. "

"And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking forsympathy for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own homethe wife whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watchesyour feelings with no answering sympathy? Will this not breeddissension, if not in words, at least in spirit? Will you not feel thewant and resent it?"

Dr. Kemp was silent. The question was a telling one and requiredthought; therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him. Herquiet voice carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of gravegrace. 

She addressed her father; each had refrained from appealing to theother. The situation in the light of their new, great love was strainedand unnatural. 

"I should endeavor that he should feel no lack, " she said; "for so faras 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 everlived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life. "

"Yes?" His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her tocontinue. 

"And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great andgood. Later, when I had read his 'Sermon on the Mount, ' I grew to seethat what he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; itmade 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 divinityto augment its power over us. He was God's attestation, God's symbol ofwhat Man might be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So Imay call myself a christian, though I spell it with a small letter. Itis right that such a man's birthday should be remembered with love; itshows what a sweet power his name is, when, as that time approaches, everybody seems to love everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrongfor me to participate in my husband's actions on that day?"

She received no answer. She looked only at her father with lovingearnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quitelost. 

"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, " heresponded; "I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leapthus far. It were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No;you would be but giving your real feelings expression. But such anexpression would grieve--Pardon; I am to consider your happiness. " Heseemed to swallow something, and hastily continued: "While we are stillon this subject, are you aware, my child, that you could not be marriedby a Jewish rabbi?"

She started perceptibly. 

"I should love to be married by Doctor C----. " As she pronounced thegrand 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 Ithink would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had noobjection. " The doctor looked at him questioningly. Levice answered byturning 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 therabbinical law is no marriage at all. Do you think he would do this, notwithstanding his friendship for you?" returned her father. They bothlooked at him intently. 

"Ah, well, " she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming toher 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 somethingradically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much beforemarriage. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' and why shouldwe add trouble to days already burdened before they come?"

"We should find all this no trouble, " said Kemp; "and what is to troubleus after? We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God'sname, do you ask for more?"

"As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people. Marriage is a stepnot entered into lightly. Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heardof with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages. We knowbeforehand what we have to expect from every quarter. No question Ihave put would be necessary with a Jew. His ways are ours, and, with fewexceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him. How amI sure of this with you? In a moment of anger this difference of faithmay 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. Hisdeep 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 spranginto blue prominence as he quickly considered his answer. 

"I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in anyundertaking; but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect fromyou 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 youimputed a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to anygentleman. You may have heard of such happenings among some, but anevent of that kind would be as removed from us as the meeting of thepoles. Everything depends on the parties concerned. "

"Besides, Father, " added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, "whenone loves greatly, one is great through love. Can true married love everbe 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 palewith thought. 

Suddenly the old man threw back his head. They both started at therevelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in astrained smile. 

"I--I, " he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance, --"Ihave one last suggestion to make. You may have children. What will betheir religion?"

The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp's face. As forthe girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon herfather'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 enoughfor childhood. Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let themchoose 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 questiondo 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 spokein a gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrastto 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 aproposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shallnot oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place mybeliefs as an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it isshe who will have to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have beenfriends; outside of this one great difference there is no man to whom Iwould more gladly trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentlemanwho has honored my child in his love for her. If I have hurt you inthese bitter words, forgive me; as my daughter's husband, we must bemore 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 soncould 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 andraising her lovely face, "if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trustme, 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, thanI to judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if afterall 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 youto him, I shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; youcan pass through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl. "

His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped andkissed her. He wrung the doctor's hand again in passing, and abruptlyturned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruthfollowed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the oldman passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into placebehind 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 signsof the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as ifafter a long, triumphant struggle. He came nearer and laid his handgently 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 hisbreast. She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her facelily-white against him. They remained in this position for some minutestill he became alarmed at her passivity. 

"You are tired, darling, " he said, stroking her cheek; "shall I leaveyou?"

She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, andsprang to her feet. She turned giddy and swayed toward him. He caughther 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 hisneck; 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 menow, 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 sadold 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 roistererspassing 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 perfectaccord. As the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him witha 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'sprivilege and send you to bed. To-morrow you can answer better what Iso long to hear. You heard what your father said; your answer restsentirely with you. Will you write, or shall I come?"

"Do you know, " she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, "youhave 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 yourtemples. Troubles, darling?"

"You shall pull them out, " he answered, drawing her little hand to hislips. 

"There, go away, " she said quickly, snatching it from him and movingfrom 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 lookedstrained 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 soonas I leave. "

"Very well. "

"Good-night, sweetheart, " he said, kissing her softly, "and dream happydreams. " 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 herstrange 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 frontof the house. Louis Arnold sprang out. The two men came face to face. 

Arnold recognized the doctor immediately and drew back. When Kemp sawwho it was, he bowed and passed on. Arnold did likewise, but he went inwhere the other went out. 

It was late, after midnight. He had just arrived on a delayed southerntrain. He knew the family had come home that morning. Dr. Kemp wasrather 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 achair and walked toward the staircase. As he passed the drawing-room, a stream of light came from beneath the portiere. He hesitated insurprise, everything was so quiet. Probably the last one had forgottento 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 puttingout the lights. He walked to the mantel to blow out the candles, butstopped, dumfounded, within a foot of it. The thing that disturbed himwas the motionless white figure of his cousin. It might have been amarble statue, so lifeless she seemed, though her face was hidden in herhands. 

For a moment Arnold was terrified; but the feeling was immediatelysucceeded 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, moaningsound 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 itis?"

With gentle force he drew her fingers from her face. The mute miserythere 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 wearychild. 

"Yes, I know; but I will help you. " The unfamiliar, gentle quality ofhis voice penetrated even to her numbed senses. 

She had not seen him since the night he had asked her to be his wife. Noremembrance of this came to her, but his presence held something newand restful. She allowed him to draw her to her feet; and as calmly as abrother he led her upstairs and into her room. Without a question he litthe 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 hiswords implied; "good-night. "

Arnold noiselessly closed the door behind him. She quickly locked it andsat down in the nearest chair. 

Her hands were interlaced so tightly that her nails left imprints inthe flesh. She had something to consider. Oh dear, it was such a simplething; was she to break her father's heart, or her own and--his? Herfather'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 itsmisery. Would it look that way always? No, no, no! She would not haveit; she dared not; it was too utterly wretched. 

Still, there was some one else at the thought of whom her templesthrobbed wildly. It would hurt him; she knew it. The thought for amoment was a miserable ecstasy; for he loved her, --her, simple RuthLevice, --beyond all doubting she knew he loved her; and, oh, father, father, how she loved him! Why must she give it all up? she questionedfiercely; did she owe no duty to herself? Was she to drag out all therest of her weary life without his love? Life! It would be a lingeringdeath, and she was young yet in years. Other girls had married withgraver obstacles, in open rupture with their parents, and they had beenhappy. Why could not she? It was not as if he were at fault; no onedared 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 allher life, some one who had grown accustomed in more than twenty years tolisten gladly for her voice, to anticipate every wish, to hold her asin the palm of a loving hand, to look for and rest on her unquestionedlove. He too had left the room; but he was not strong and handsome, poor, poor old father with his small bent shoulders. What a wretchedthing it is to be old and have the heart-strings that have soconfidently twisted themselves all these years around another rudely cutoff, --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 roseup calmly and seated herself at her writing-table. She wrote steadilyfor some time without erasing a single word. She addressed the envelopewithout 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, andhurried 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 astill hunt about the pieces of furniture in the various rooms. Beingunsuccessful, he went into his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurriedagain to the kitchen. 

"Where have you been, Burke?" he exclaimed as that spare-lookingpersonage 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; andshall I serve the soup?" the last was bellowed after his master'sretreating form. 

"Wait till I ring, " he called back. 

He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and satdown 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 himof her, and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface. He did notbreak the seal for some minutes, --anticipation is sometimes sweeter thanrealization. Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for asecond, --a boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished someexpected pleasure to spring suddenly upon him. How would she addresshim? The memory of their last meeting gave him courage, and he openedhis eyes. The denouement was disconcerting. Directly under the tinywhite 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 youleft. I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason. After all, itsaved you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even thenI knew it could never be. Never! Forever!--do you know the meaning ofthose two long words? I do. They have burned themselves irrevocably intomy brain; try to understand them, --they are final. 

I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you knowexactly how I still consider what is separating us. I am wrong. Only Iam causing this separation; no one else could or would. Do not blame myfather; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; hewould think I am sacrificing my happiness for him. I have no doubt youthink so now. Let me try to make you understand how different it reallyis. I am no Jephthah's daughter, --he wants no sacrifice, and I makenone. Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me. You heard myfather's words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoilupon your heart like a death's hand. 

I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward Iam! Let me say it now, --I could never be happy with you. Do you rememberShylock, --the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a breakingheart? 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 noone's else. 

And that is why I ask you now to forgive me, --because I am not nobleenough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I ama light person seemingly to play thus with a man's heart. Ifthis reflection can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it soundpresumptuous or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happywithout me? Well, it is said hearts do not break for love, --that is, notquickly. If you will just think of what I have done, surely you willnot regret your release; you may yet find a paradise with some other andbetter woman. No, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to behappy. Why should not you, then, --you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. Inyour busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthyof spoiling your life for you. 

My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. Iam such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgiveme?

RUTH. 

He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smokingsoup. 

"I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring, " he stammered, shocked at thealtered face. 

"Take it away, " said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. "Ido not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not bedisturbed. "

The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, andwent back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles. 

Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at hisdesk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It tooka long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him ashe laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could seethe expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable emptyfeeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her, --how couldhe, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got upand paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feelingalmost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves tohim. "Paradise with some other, better woman, "--she might have left thatout; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. "I tooshall be happy. " Not that, not some other man's wife, --the thought wasdemoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. "I mustget out of this, " he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hatand went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled withit, and then came home and wrote to her:--

I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word. Be happy ifyou can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much, --the fact that you aresomewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth theliving. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you, the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever theneed, remember--I am at hand. 

HERBERT KEMP. 

Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answerwas received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavyshadows around her eyes. 

"It is all over, Father, " she said; "we have parted forever. Perhaps Idid not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shallbe happier with you, dear. "

"Are you sure, my darling?"

"Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it isdead 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 helooked into her lovely, resolute face. 

Chapter XX

We do not live wholly through ourselves. What is called fate is but theoutcome of the spinning of other individuals twisted into the woof ofour own making; so no life should be judged as a unit. 

Ruth Levice was not alone in the world; she was neither recluse nora genius, but a girl with many loving friends and a genial home-life. Having resolved to bear to the world an unchanged front, she outwardlydid as she had always done. Her mother's zealous worldliness returnedwith her health; and Ruth fell in with all her plans for a gaywinter, --that is, the plans were gay; Ruth's presence could hardly betermed so. The old spontaneous laugh was superseded by a gentle smile, sympathetic perhaps, but never joyous. She listened more, and seldom nowtook the lead in a general conversation, though there was a charm abouta tete-a-tete with her that earnest persons, men and women, felt withoutbeing able to define it. For the change, without doubt, was there. It was as if a quiet hand had been passed over her exuberant, happygirlhood and left a serious, thoughtful woman in its stead. A subtilechange like this is not speedily noticed by outsiders; it requires usagebefore an acquaintance will account it a characteristic instead of amood. But her family knew it. Mrs. Levice, wholly in the dark as to thecause, wondered openly. 

"You might be thirty, Ruth, instead of twenty-two, by the staidnessof your demeanor. While other girls are laughing and chatting as girlsshould, you look on with the tolerant dignity of a woman of graveconcerns. If you had anything to trouble you, there might be someexcuse; but as it is, why can't you go into enjoyments like the rest ofyour friends?"

"Don't I? Why, I hardly know another girl who lives in such constantgayety as I. Are we not going to a dinner this evening and to the ballto-morrow night?"

"Yes; but you might as well be going to a funeral for all the pleasureyou seem to anticipate. If you come to a ball with such a grandlyserious air, the men will just as soon think of asking a statue to danceas you. A statue may be beautiful in its niche, but people do not careto study its meaning at a ball. "

"What do you wish me to do, Mamma? I should hate the distinction of awall-flower, which you think imminent. I am afraid I am too big a womanto be frolicsome. "

"You never were that, but you were at least a girl. People will beginto think you consider yourself above them, or else that you have somesecret trouble. "

The smile of incredulity with which she answered her would have beenheart-breaking had it been understood. No flush stained the ivory pallorof her face at these thrusts in the dark; Louis was never annoyedin this way now. Her old-time excited contradictions never obtrudedthemselves in their conversations. A silent knowledge lay between themwhich neither, by word or look, ever alluded to. Mrs. Levice noted withdelight their changed relations. Louis's sarcasm ceased to be directedat Ruth; and though the familiar sparring was missing, Mrs. Levicepreferred his deferential bearing when he addressed her, and Ruth'sgrave graciousness with him. She drew her own conclusions, and acceptedRuth's quietness with more patience on this account. 

Louis understood somewhat; and in his manliness he could not hide thather suffering had cost him a new code of actions. But he could notunderstand as her father did. Despite her brave smile, Levice couldalmost read her heart-beats, and the knowledge brought a hardness and abitter regret. He grew to scanning her face surreptitiously, lookingin vain for the old, untroubled delight in things; and when theunmistakable signs of secret anguish would leave traces at times, hewould turn away with a groan. Yet there was nothing to be done. He knewthat 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 wouldcompensate, he trusted to time to heal the wound. Meanwhile his ownself-blame at these times left its mark upon him. 

For Ruth lived a dual life. The real one was passed in her quietchamber, 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 herloss would steal upon her. Her father had caught many such a look uponher face. She had resolved to live without him, but accomplishment isnot so easy. Besides, it was not as if she never saw him. San Franciscois not so large a city but that by the turning of a corner you may notcome across a friend. Ruth grew to study the sounds the different kindsof vehicles made; and the rolling wheels of a doctor's carriage behindher 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 wasapproaching this declension just before the Boys' High School when acarriage drove quickly up the hill toward her. The horses gave a boundas if the reins had been jerked; there was the momentary flash of aman's stern, white face as he raised his hat; and Ruth was walking downthe hill, trembling and pale. It was the first time; and for one minuteher heart seemed to stop beating and then rushed wildly on. Whether shehad bowed or made any sign of recognition, she did not know. It didnot matter, though; if he thought her cold or strange or anything, whatdifference could it possibly make? For her there would be left foreverthis dead emptiness. These casual meetings were inevitable; and shewould 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 shemet him at the different affairs to which she went, always through hermother's desire. But the dread of coming upon him slowly departed asthe months rolled by and with them all token of him. Time and again shewould hear allusions to him. "Dr. Kemp has developed into a misogynist, "pouted Dorothy Gwynne. "He was one of the few decided eligibles on thehorizon, but it requires the magnet of illness to draw him now. I reallymust look up the symptoms of a possible ache; the toilet and expressionof an invalid are very becoming, you know. "

"Dr. Kemp made a splendid donation to our kindergarten to-day. I havenot seen him since we were in the country, and he thought me lookingvery well. He inquired after the family, and I told him we had aresidence, at which he smiled. " This from Mrs. Levice. Ruth would havegiven much to have been able to ask after him with self-possession, butthe 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 wouldwithout fail inquire after "our friend" or tell her of his having passedthat 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 wasraised a second and a third time toward her. Louis, seated next to her, resented with unaccountable ferocity this free admiration that she didnot see or feel. 

As the curtain went down on the first act, he drew her attention tosome celebrity then passing out. She raised her glass, but her hand fellnerveless in her lap. Immediately following him came Dr. Kemp. Theireyes met, and he bowed low, passing on immediately. The rest of theevening 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 bistrousshadows grew around her eyes, and she became deadly silent. 

"What a magnificent man he is, " murmured Mrs. Levice, "and what animpressive bow he has!" Ruth did not hear her; but when she reachedher own room, she threw herself face downward on her bed in intolerableanguish. She was not a girl who cried easily. If she had been, hersuffering would not have been so intense, --when the flood-gates areopened, the river finds relief. Over and over again she wished she mightdie and end this eager, passionate craving for some token of love fromhim, or for the power of letting him know how it was with her. And itwould always be thus as long as she lived. She did not deceive herself;no mere friendship would have sufficed, --all or nothing after what hadbeen. 

Physically, however, she bore no traces of this continual restraint. Onthe contrary, her slender figure matured to womanly proportions. Littlechildren, seeing her, smiled responsively at her, or clamored to betaken into her arms, there was such a tender mother-look about her. Bydegrees her friends began to feel the repose of her intellect andthe sympathy of her face, and came to regard her as the queen ofconfidantes. Young girls with their continual love episodes andexcitements, ambitious youths with their whimsical schemes of life andaspirations of love, sought her out openly. Few of these latter daredhope for any individual thought from her, though any of the older menwould have staked a good deal for the knowledge that she singled him forher consideration. 

Arnold viewed it all with inward satisfaction. He regarded memory butas a sort of palimpsest; and he was patiently waiting until his ownname should appear again, when the other's should have been sufficientlyobliterated. 

It was a severe winter, and everybody appreciated the luxury of a warmhome. December came in wet and cold, and la grippe held the country inits disagreeable hold. The Levices were congratulating themselves oneevening on their having escaped the epidemic. 

"I suppose the secret of it lies in the fact that we do not coddleourselves, " observed Levice. 

"If you were to coddle yourself a little more, " retorted his wife, "youwould not cough every morning as you do. Really, Jules, if you do notconsult a physician, I shall send for Kemp myself. I actually think itis making you thin. "

"Nonsense!" he replied carelessly; "it is only a little irritation ofthe throat every morning. If the weather is clear next week, I must goto 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 theother 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 bebothered with a woman's grip-sack. "

"Take Ruth, then. "

"I should love to go with you, Father, " she replied to the questioningglance of his eyes. He seemed to ponder over it for a while, but shookhis head finally. 

"No, " he said again; "I shall be very busy, and a woman would be anuisance to me. Besides, I wish to be alone for a while. "

They all looked at him in surprise; he was so unused to making testyremarks. 

"Grown tired of womankind?" asked Mrs. Levice, playfully. "Well, ifyou must, you must; don't overstay your health and visit, and bring ussomething pretty. How long will you be gone?"

"That depends on the speediness of the courts. No more than three weeksat the utmost, however. "

So the following Wednesday being bright and sunny, he set off; thefamily 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 wouldlove me as much as you used to. "

"As much! My child, I never loved you better than now; remember that. Ithink I have forgotten everybody else in you. "

"Don't, dear! it makes me feel miserable to think I should cause you amoment'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 forgiveyou? I, who am the cause of it all?"

He kissed her tear-filled eyes tenderly, and turned with a sign to hermother. 

They watched to the last his loved face at the window, Ruth with a sadsmile and a loving wave of her handkerchief. 

Over at the mole it is not a bad place to witness tragedies. Pathosholds the upper hand, and the welcomes are sometimes as heart-rending asthe leave-takings. A woman stood on the ferry with a blank, working facedown which the tears fell heedlessly; a man, her husband, turned fromher, drew his hat down over his eyes, and stalked off toward thetrain without a backward glance. Parting is a figure of death in thisrespect, --that only those who are left need mourn; the others havesomething new beyond. 

Chapter XXI

The fire-light threw grotesque shadows on the walls. Ruth and Louis inthe library made no movement to ring for lights; it was quite cosey asit was. They had both drawn near the crackling wood-blaze, Ruth in a lowrocker, 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 toaccompany her. "

"What! Voluntarily put myself into the cold when there is a fire blazingright here? Ah, no. At any rate, your mother is all right with theLewises, and I am all right with you. "

"I give you a guarantee I shall not bite; you look altogether too hardfor my cannibalistic propensities. "

"It is something not to be accounted soft. I think a redundancy of fleshoverflows in trickling sentimentality. My worst enemy could not accuseme of either fault. "

"But your best friend would not mind a little thaw now and then. One ofthe girls confided to me today that walking on and over-waxed floor wasnothing to attempting an equal footing in conversation with you. "

"I am sorry I am such a slippery customer. Does not the fire burn yourface? 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. Willit make you tired to watch me?"

"Exceedingly. I prefer your undivided attention; it is not often we arealone, Ruth. "

She looked up slightly startled; he seldom made personal remarks. Herpulses began to flutter with the premonition that reference to a tacitlyburied secret was going to be made. 

"We have been going out and receiving a good deal lately, though somehowI don't feel festive, with Father away in freezing New York. Mamma wouldgladly have stayed at home to-night if Jennie had not insisted. "

"You think so? I fancy she was a very willing captive; she intimated asmuch 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 thiseloquence was lost upon you. "

"Entirely. What was your interpretation?"

"Ah, that was confidential. Perhaps I even endowed her with thesethoughts, knowing her desires were in touch with my own. "

"It is wanton cruelty to arouse a woman's curiosity and leave itunsatisfied. "

"It is not cruelty; it is cowardice. "

She gazed at him in wonder. His apple-blossom cheeks wore a rosier glowthan usual. He seized a log from the box, threw it on the blaze thatillumined their faces, grasped the poker, and leaning forward in hischair 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 sharpraking 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 wasmethod 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 carefor you, and you will be happier than you can ever be in thesecircumstances. "

"You do not know what you ask, Louis. Even if I could, you would neverbe satisfied. "

"Try me, Ruth, " he entreated. 

She raised herself from her easy, reclining position, and regarded himearnestly. 

"What you desire, " she said in a restrained manner, "would be littleshort of a crime for me. What manner of wife should I be to you when myevery thought is given to another?"

His face put on the set look of one who has shut his teeth hardtogether. 

"I anticipated this repulse, " he said after a pause; "so what you havejust assured me of does not affect my wish or my resolution to continuemy 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 actuallyperformed? Oh, Louis, how could you force me to these disclosures?"

"I am seeking no disclosure, but it is impossible for me to continuesilent now. "

"Why?"

"Why? Because I love you. "

They sat so close together he might have touched her by putting out hishand, but he remained perfectly still, only the pale excitement of longrepression speaking from his face; but she shrank back at his words andraised her hand as if about to receive a blow. 

"Do not be alarmed, " he continued, noticing the action; "my love cannothurt you, or it would have killed you long ago. "

"Oh, Louis, " she murmured, "forgive me; I never thought you cared somuch. "

"How should you? I am not a man to wear my heart upon my sleeve. I thinkI have always loved you; but living as familiarly as we have lived, seeing you whenever I wished, the thought that some day this might endnever occurred to me. It was only when the possibility of some otherman's claiming your love and taking you from me presented itself, thatmy heart rose up in arms against it, --and then I asked you to be mywife. "

"Yes, " she replied, raising her pale face; "and I refused. The samecause 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 nowdone 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 towish you to marry me when you assure me that you love another. Thatmeans that you do not love me as a husband should be loved, but it doesnot 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 falsityof your thought, --for I do not wish to force or impel you to do a thingrepugnant to your reason as well as to your feelings. To begin with, youdo 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. Anotherquestion: Is there anything about my life or personality to which youobject, or of which your are ashamed?"

"You know how proud we all are of you in your bearing in every relationof life. "

"I was egotist enough to think as much at any rate; otherwise Icould not approach you so confidently. Well, love--indifferent if youwill--and respect are not a bad foundation for something stronger. Willyou, for the sake of argument, suppose that for some reason you haveforgotten 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 Ilove you. You do not return my love, you say; you think you would bewretched 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 muchyou love him. You are bound to me, I to you and your happiness; so Ipledge myself to make you happier than you are now, because I shall makeyou forget this man. "

"You could not, and I should only grow to hate you. "

"Impossible, " the pallor of his face intensifying; "because I shouldso act that my love would wait upon your pleasure: it would never pushitself 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 friendsand associations for a while, and I shall be with you always, --notintrusively, but necessarily. I shall give you every pleasure andnovelty 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 makeyou love me. "

His voice shook with the strength of his passion, while she listened inheart-sick fear. Carried away by his manner, she almost felt as if hehad accomplished his object. He quieted down after this. 

"Don't you see, Ruth, that all this change must make you forget? And ifyou tried to put the past from you for no other reason than that yourwifehood would be less untrue, you would be but following the instinctsof a truly honorable woman. After that, all would be easy. In everyinstance you would be forced to look upon me as your husband, for youwould belong to me. I should be the author of all your surroundings; andalways keeping in mind how I want you to regard me, I should woo you sotenderly that without knowing it you would finally yield. Then, and onlythen, when I had filled your thought to the exclusion of every otherman, 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 intoher lap, "but the denouement is a castle in Spain that we should neverinhabit. You think your love is strong enough to kill mine first ofall; well, I tell you, nothing is strong enough for that. With this factestablished the rest is needless to speak of. It is only your dream, Louis; forgive me that I unwittingly intruded into it; reality wouldmean disillusion, --we are happy only when we dream. "

"You are bitter. "

"Our relations are turned, then; I have put into practice your oldtheories of the uselessness of life. No; I am wrong. It is better to diethan not to have loved. "

"You think you have lived your life, then. I can't convince youotherwise now; but I am going to beg you to think this over, to tryto imagine yourself my wife. I will not hasten your decision, but in aweek's time you should be able to answer me yes or no. If anything canhelp my cause, I cannot overlook it; so I may tell you now that for someoccult 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 makehim happy. "

She rose suddenly as if oppressed. Her face looked hard to a degree. Shestood before him, tall and rigid. He stood up and faced her, readingher face so intently that he straightened himself as if to receive anattack. 

"I will consider what you have said, " she said mechanically. 

The reaction was so unexpected that he turned giddy and caught on to theback of a chair to steady himself. 

"It will not take me a week, " she went on with no change in hermonotone; "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 steppedback and waved him off. 

"Don't touch me, " she cried in a suppressed voice; "at least you are notmy 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 cometo 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 alwayscontrol myself as I have been forced to do tonight. If this admission isdamaging, it is too true to be put lightly aside. I shall not detain youlonger. "

He looked haughty and cold regarding her from this dim distance. Hergentleness struggled to get the better of her, and she came back andheld out her hand. 

"I am sorry if I offended you, Louis; good-night. Will you not pardon myselfishness?"

His eyes gleamed behind their glasses; he did not take her hand, butmerely bent over the little peace-offering as over a sacrament. Seeingthat he had no intention of doing more, her hand fell passively to herside, and she left the room. 

As the door closed softly, Arnold sank with a hopeless gesture intoa chair and buried his face in his hands. He was not a stoic, but aman, --a Frenchman, who loved much; but Arnold, half-blinded by his ownlove, scarcely appreciated the depths of self-forgetfulness to whichRuth would have to succumb in order to accept the guaranty of happinesswhich he offered her. 

The question now presented itself in the light of a duty: if by thisaction she could undo the remorse that her former offence had inflicted, had she the right to ignore the opportunity? A vision of her own sadface obtruded itself, but she put it sternly from her. If she were to dothis thing, the motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly keptin view the fact that her marriage would be the only means by which herfather might be relieved of the haunting knowledge of her lost peaceof mind. Had she given one thought to Louis, the possibility of the actwould have been abhorrent to her. One picture she kept constantly beforeher, --her father's happy eyes. 

Chapter XXII

Mrs. Levice's gaze strayed pensively from the violets she wasembroidering to Ruth's pale face. Every time the latter stirred, hermother started expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was notforthcoming. Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening thefeeling of comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might callcomfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth's face had at lastled her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, darkshadows 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 situp late last night?"

This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was soevident to her now. 

"No, " she replied; "I believe it could not have been nine when I wentupstairs. "

"Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis's companyunpleasant?"

"Oh, no, " was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open pageagain. 

Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by suchtactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance ofwhich her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almostpositive that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flashof intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. Itwas natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be soreserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know somethingmore. 

"For my part, " she observed, as if continuing a discussion, "Ithink Louis charming in a tete-a-tete, --when he feels inclined tobe interesting he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worthrepeating? It is a dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little. "

She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed andencountered 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, butregarding her intently. 

Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a momentbefore answering. 

"I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I haddecided I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked meto--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 LouisArnold 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 tellher mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have beenlooking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean bysaying 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 waitingfor me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have beenhonored. "

"Honor is not everything, Mamma. "

At that moment a desperate longing for her mother's sympathy seizedher; but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it wouldoccasion came to her, and her lips remained closed. 

"No, " responded her mother, "and you have more than that; surely Louisdid 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 youevery luxury within reason, --so much for honest practicality. As toLouis himself, the most fastidious could find nothing to cavil at, --hewill make you a perfect husband. You are familiar enough with him toknow his faults; but no man is faultless. I hope you are not so sillyas to expect some girlish ideal, --for all the ideals died in the GoldenAge, 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 facewas alive with the excitement of hope fulfilled. "Is there anything elsewanting?"

"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 noreproach in Mrs. Levice's gentle acceptance of the fact; "he will be sohappy over it. There, kiss me, girlie; I know you like to think thingsout in silence, and I shall not say another word about it till you giveme leave. "

She kept her word. The dreary afternoon dragged on. By four o-clock itwas growing dark, and Mrs. Levice became restless. 

"I am going to my room to write to your father now, --he shall have agood scolding for the non-receipt of a letter to-day;" and forthwith shebetook herself upstairs. 

Ruth closed her book and moved restlessly about the room. She wanderedover to the front window, and drawing aside the silken curtain, lookedout into the storm-tossed garden. The pale heliotropes lay wet and sweetagainst the trellises; some loosened rose-petals fluttered noiselesslyto the ground; only the gorgeous chrysanthemums looked proudlyindifferent to the elements; and the beautiful, stately palm-tree justat the side of the window spread its gracious arms like a protectingtemple. She felt suddenly oppressed and feverish, and threw open thelong French window. The rain had ceased for the time, and she steppedout upon the veranda. The fragrance of the rain-soaked flowers stole toher senses; the soft, sweet breeze caressed her temples; she stood stillin the perfumed freshness and enjoyed its peace. By and by she began towalk 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. Shemust school herself to some show of graciousness. The thing must not bedone 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 inhis arms; she heard the old-time words of blessing; she saw his smilingeyes; and a gentleness stole over her whole face, a gentle nobility thatmade it strangely sweet. The soft patter of rain on the gravel rousedher, and she went in; but she felt better, and wished Louis might comein 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 isas pitchy as Hades, only that smouldering log looks purgatorial. "

Ruth lit the gas; and as she stood with upturned eyes adjusting theburner, her mother noticed that the heaviness had departed from herface. 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?" butforbore 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 thewindow to draw down the blinds. As she stood looking out with her handon the chair, she saw the gate swing slowly open, and a messenger-boycame dawdling up the walk as if the sun were streaming full upon him. 

Ruth stepped noiselessly out, meaning to anticipate his ring. A vagueforeboding drove the blood from her lips as she stood waiting atthe open hall-door. Seeing the streaming light, the boy managed toaccelerate 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?" sheasked. 

"Nom, " answered the boy; and noticing her pallor and apprehension, "I'llshet 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 recognizedLouis's handwriting on the wrapper, and her heart fluttered ominously. She tore off the damp covering, and the first thing she encountered wasanother wrapper on which was written in large characters:--

DEAR RUTH, --Do not be alarmed; everything is all right. I had to leavetown 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; onefear was stilled. She drew out the letter; she saw in perplexity that itwas 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 confinedfor the last week with pneumonia, although I managed to write a dailypostal. Have been quite ill, but am on the mend and only anxious tostart home again. I really cannot rest here, and have made arrangementsto leave to-morrow. Have taken every precaution against catching cold, and apart from feeling a trifle weak and annoyed by a cough, am allright. Shall come home directly. Say nothing of this to Esther or Ruth;shall apprise them by telegram of my home-coming. Had almost completedthe 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 nervequivering 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 ifyou can. 

JULES LEVICE. 

Her limbs shook as she sat; her teeth chattered; for one minute sheturned sick and faint. Under the telegram Arnold had written:--

Am sure it is nothing. He has never been ill, and is more frightenedthan a more experienced person would be. There is no need to alarm yourmother unnecessarily, so say nothing till you hear from me. Shall wireyou as soon as I arrive, which will be to-morrow night. 

LOUIS. 

How could she refrain from telling her mother? She felt suddenly weakand 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; hermother stood regarding her. 

"What is it, Ruth?" she asked. 

"Nothing, " she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to becalm, --"nothing at all. Louis has just sent me word that he had to leavetown this evening, and says not to wait dinner for him. "

"That is very strange, " mused her mother, moving slowly toward her andholding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into herpocket. 

"It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, doyou?" she asked, assuming a desperate gayety. "There is nothing strangeabout it; he often leaves like this. "

"Not in such weather and not after---- There won't be a man in the houseto-night. I wish your father were home; he would not like it if heknew. " 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 hersecret, her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of anycommunication from her husband. Had the weather been fair, Ruth wouldhave insisted on her going out with her; but to the rain of the daybefore was added a heavy windstorm that made any unnecessary expeditionfrom home absurd. 

Mrs. Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down. Shewas sure that the next delivery would bring something. Was it not timefor 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 thejaunty little rubber-encased man go indifferently by. At half-past fourthis 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. Goto 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 anylonger. "

"You can't send any of the girls in such weather; both the maids haveterrible colds, and Mary would not go if you asked her. Listen! It isfrightful. 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 forcedstoicism she essayed to distract her mother's thoughts, but with poorsuccess. The wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately aftera show of dining, Mrs. Levice went to bed. At Ruth's suggestion she tooksome headache medicine. 

"It will make me sleep, perhaps; and that will be better than worryingawake and unable to do anything. "

The opiate soon had its effect; and with a sigh of relief Ruth heardher mother's regular breathing. It was now her turn to suffer openly thefox-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 toher throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled. It wasone of the wildest nights San Francisco ever experienced; trees groaned, gates slammed, and a perfect war of the elements was abroad. The wailingwind about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of some onebegging for shelter. The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine. Still her mother slept. Ruth from her chair could see that her cheekswere unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried; but anydegree of oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacingtidings. Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrappedthem in the fleecy shawl that enveloped her. The action brought to hermind the way her father used to tuck her little hands under the coverletwhen 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 onesqueeze more, Father;" how long the good-nights were with this play! Shehad never called him "papa" like other children, but he had always likedit best so. She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweetlittle chimer rang out ten bells; she began to grow heart-sick with herthoughts; her limbs ached with stiffness, and she began a gentle walkup and down the room. Would it keep up all night? There! surely somebodywas crunching up the gravel-walk. With one look at her sleeping mother, she quickly left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. With apalpitating heart she leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm, after all? The next instant there was a violent pull at the bell, asstartling in the dead of the night as some supernatural summons. BeforeRuth could hurry down, Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out ofher room and rushed to the door. In a trice she was back again with thetelegram 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 couldopen 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 whitenight-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth's fingersfrom 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 fingersloosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room;Ruth followed her closely. 

Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read. No change came overher face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word toRuth. 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 willunderstand, 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 conditionas 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 Ruthexplained 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'tyou 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 stopcrying, or--"

"Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that arenot 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 isdanger now, this minute. Oh, what can I do, what can I do?" With thiscry all her strength seemed to give way; she sobbed and laughed with thehysteria of long ago; when Ruth strove to put her arms around her, sheshook her off convulsively. 

"Don't touch me!" she breathed; "it is all your fault--he wantsme--needs me--and, oh, look at me here! Why do you stand there like aghost? Go away. No, come here--I want Dr. Kemp; now, at once, he said tohave 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; moveaside. "

Ruth, summoning all her strength, strove to hold her in her arms, all tono avail. 

"Lie still, " she said sternly; "I shall go for Dr. Kemp. "

"You can't; it is night and raining. Oh, " she continued, halfdeliriously, "I know I am acting strangely, and he will calm me. Ruth, Iwant to be calm; don't you understand?"

The two maids, frightened by the noise, stood in the doorway. Both hadtheir 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 aspitch, and you all alone?" asked one, with wide, frightened eyes. 

"I am not afraid, " said the girl, a great calmness in her voice as shespoke above her mother's sobbing; "stay and try to quiet her. I shallnot be gone long. "

She flew into her room, drew on her overshoes and mackintosh, grasped asealskin hood, which she tied securely under her chin, and went out intothe howling, raging night. 

She had but a few blocks to go, but under ordinary circumstances theundertaking would have been disagreeable enough. The rain came down inheavy, wild torrents; the wind roared madly, wrapping her skirts aroundher limbs and making walking almost an impossibility; the darknesswas impenetrable save for the sickly, quavering light shed by the fewstreet-lamps, as far apart as angel visitants. Lowering her head andkeeping her figure as erect as possible, she struggled bravely on. She met scarcely any one, and those she did meet occasioned her littleuneasiness in the flood of unusual emotions that overwhelmed her soul. At any other time the thought of her destination would have blotted outevery other perception; now this was but one of many shuddering visions. Trouble was making her hard; life could offer her little that would findher unequal to the test. Down the broad, deserted avenue, with its dark, imposing mansions, she hurried as if she were alone in the havockingelements. The rain beat her and lashed her in the face; she faced itunflinchingly as a small part of her trials. Without a tremor she ranup Dr. Kemp's steps. It was only when she stood with her finger on thebell-button that she realized whom she was about to encounter. Then forthe first time she gave one long sob of self-recollection, and pushedthe button. 

Burke almost immediately opened the door. Ruth had no intention ofentering; it would be sufficient to leave her message and hurry home. 

"Who's there?" asked Burke, peering out into the darkness. "It's a divilof a night for any one but--"

"Is Dr. Kemp in?" The sweet woman-voice so startled him that he openedthe 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 dooropen. "

"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 aredry-humored or wet-soled;" and he shuffled off. The door was open! Herfather had assured her of this once long ago. Inside were warmth andlight; outside, in the shadow, were cold and darkness. Here she stood. Would the man never return? Ah, here he came hurrying along; she drewnearer the door; within a half-foot she stood still with locked jaw andswimming senses. 

"My good woman, " said the grave, kindly voice which calmed while itunnerved her, "come in and speak to me here. Am I wanted anywhere? Comein, 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 steppedin; then as it closed she faced him, turning up her white, haggard faceto 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 almostinstantly in a distant and formal tone, "can you come at once? She issuffering with hysteria and calls you incessantly. "

He drew himself up and looked at her with a cold, grand air. This girlhad been the only woman who had signally affected his life; yet if heronly 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 thedoor. 

He watched her tugging in blind stupefaction at the strange bolt, butdid not move to her assistance. Her head was bent low over the intricatething; but it was useless, --it would not move, and she suddenly raisedher eyes beseechingly to him; with a great revulsion of feeling he sawthat they were swimming in tears. His own lips trembled, and his heartgave a wild leap. Then one of those unaccountable moods that sometimesmasters the best swayed him strongly. 

She was alone with him there; he could keep her if he wished. One lookat her lovely, beloved face, and his higher manhood asserted itself. Heunlatched the door, and still holding it closed, said in a deferentialtone, --

"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 shewalked out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized avial from his office, and hurried after her. At this juncture the stormwas frightful. Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectuallyto move on. Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gustscarried his breath away. In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, whowas 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 ofVan Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees;they tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind. A violent gustalmost took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly forDr. Kemp to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back. At the samemoment, one of the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash uponthem. 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 hisshort wet beard brushed her cheek. 

"No, " she said, wresting herself from him; "I thank you--but you havehurt 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. Noraopened the door for them. 

"Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!" she cried, wringing her hands as thedoctor threw off his coat and hat; "all she does now is to stare at uswith 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, herlarge dark eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowycounterpane. 

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 resultwas painful. 

"None of that!" he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders. "Ifyou try, you can stop this. Now see, I am holding you. Look at me, andyou will understand you must quiet down. "

He used his well-known power of magnetism. Gradually the quiveringshoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and hegently laid her head upon the pillow. 

"Don't go away!" she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move fromher. 

"No, indeed, " he replied in a bright, soothing voice; "see, I am goingto give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in ashort 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 hedrew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her facerelaxed. 

"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 lowtone 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, dullred gown. As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenlyremembered that his feet might be wet. She lit a candle, and going intoLouis'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 thedoctor lay back with closed eyes. He was not asleep, however, for heopened his eyes at her light footfall. She looked very beautiful in herunconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness ofher face. 

"Will you put them on?" she asked in a hushed voice, holding out theslippers. 

"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. Theaction 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 hisshoes?"

No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth's thoughts gave one miserablebound to Arnold. 

"He will be pleased to add to your comfort, " spoke Mrs. Levice from thebed, 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 perfectlystill. It was a peculiar situation, --the mother, who had been the meansof drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and heand she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulfbetween them, sat there without a word. 

Ruth's temples throbbed painfully; she felt weak and tired; towardmorning she sank into a heavy sleep. Kemp did not sleep; he kept hisface turned from her, trying to quiet his thoughts with the dull lullabyof the rain. But he knew when she slept; his gaze wandered searchinglyaround 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 thesoft carpet. As he came up to Ruth, he saw with an inward groan thechange upon her sleeping face. Great, dark shadows lay about her eyesnot caused by the curling lashes; her mouth drooped pathetically at thecorners; her temples, from which her soft hair was rolled, showed theblue veins; he would have given much to touch her hair with his hand, but he laid the cover over her shoulders without touching her, andtucked it lightly about her knees and feet. Then he went back to hischair. It was five o'clock before either mother or daughter opened hereyes; they started up almost simultaneously. Ruth noticed the warm robeabout her, and her eyes sped to the doctor. He, however, was speaking toMrs. 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 badweather 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 pastfive weeks; he suffered there with acute pneumonia for a week, told usnothing, but hurried home as soon as possible, --too soon, I suppose. Daybefore 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 lastnight, when Ruth received this telegram from Louis. " She handed it tohim. 

As Kemp read, an unmistakable gravity settled on his face. As he wasfolding the paper thoughtfully, Mrs. Levice addressed him again in herunfamiliar, 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 saidslowly, reseating himself and pausing as if trying to recall something. 

"Last year, " he began, "probably as early as February, your husband cameto me complaining of a cough that annoyed him nights and mornings;he further told me that when he felt it coming, he went to anotherapartment so as not to disturb you. I examined him, and found he wassuffering with the first stages of asthma, and that one of his lungswas slightly diseased already. I treated him and gave him directions forliving carefully. You knew nothing of this?"

"Nothing, " she answered hoarsely. 

"Well, " he went on gently, "there was no cause for worry; if checked intime, a man may live to second childhood with asthma, and the loss of asmall portion of a lung is not necessarily fatal. He knew this, and wasmending slowly; I examined him several times and found no increase inthe 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 everymorning and night. When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed meout 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 pneumoniamore dangerous?"

"Undoubtedly. "

Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of hervoice and aspect remained unbroken. 

"Thank you, " she said, "for telling me so candidly. Then will you behere 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 athome. 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 yourkindness to me;" she held out both hands. "Will you let Ruth show you toa room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?"

"I thank you; it is impossible, " he replied, looking at his watch. "Ishall hurry home now. Good-morning, Mrs. Levice. There may be smallcause for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the moreyou 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 witha difference. Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, andthey had descended together, talking pleasantly. Now not a word wassaid till he had put on his heavy outer coat. As he laid his hand on theknob, 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 completequiet 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 seehim. Is there anything I can do for you?"

She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the lightof his tender eyes. He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed itquickly behind him. 

Chapter XXIV

The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco thisThursday morning. After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a dayin spring. Young girls tripped forth "in their figures, " as the Frenchhave it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genialwooing of sunbeams. 

Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion. Neither Ruth nor hermother felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her positionin her husband's room, Ruth wandered downstairs. The silence seemedvocal with her fears. 

"So I tell ye's two, " remarked the cook as her young mistress passedfrom the kitchen, "that darter and father is more than kin, they issoul-kin, if ye know what that means; an' the boss's girl do love himmore'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 theangels;" and their prayers the night before had held an eloquent appealfor 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 betterto stand here than in the fear-haunted background. 

Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stoodbefore the gate. She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned forone second blindly against the wall. 

"Tell my mother they have come, " she gasped to the maid, who had enteredthe 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 herfather's; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father's; but asthey carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, pantingbreaths came to her, were they her father's too? No need, Ruth, torush forward and vainly implore some power to tear from yourself therespiration withheld from him. Air, air! So, man, so; one step more andthen relief. Ah!

She paused in agony at the foot of the stairs as the closing door shutout the dreadful sound. We never value our blessings till we have lostthem; who thinks it a boon to be able to breathe without thinking of theaction?

He had not seen her; his eyes had been closed as if in exhaustion asthey gently helped him along, and she had understood at once that theonly thing to be thought of was, by some manner of means, to remove thechoking obstacle from his lungs. Oh, to be able in her young strengthto hold the weak, loved form in her arms and breathe into him heroverflowing life-breath! She walked upstairs presently; he would beexpecting her. As she reached the upper landing, Kemp came from theroom, closing the door behind him. His bearing revealed a gravity shehad never witnessed before. In his tightly buttoned morning-suit, withthe small white tie at his throat, he might have been officiating atsome solemn ceremonial. He stood still as Ruth confronted him at thehead of the stairs, and met her lovely, miserable eyes with a look ofsympathy. She essayed to speak, but succeeded only in gazing at him inspeechless entreaty. 

"Yes, I know, " he responded to her silent appeal; "you were shocked atwhat 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 hiscondition. "

"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 overleapeditself, we have much to hope for. "

The intended consolation conveyed a contrary admission which sheimmediately grasped. 

"That means--the worst, " she said, her clasped fingers speaking thelanguage of despair. "Oh, Doctor, you who know so much, can't you helphim? Think, think of everything; there must be something! Only do yourbest, do your utmost; you will, won't you?"

His deep, grave eyes answered her silently as he took both her littleclasped hands in his one strong one, saying simply, --

"Trust me, but only so far as lies within my human power. He is somewhateased, 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 butbe making good your inheritance. I shall be in again at one, and willsend some medicines up at once. " He ended in his usual businessliketone, and walked hastily downstairs. 

There was perfect quiet in the room as Ruth entered. Propped high bymany 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 smoothedhis white hair. Never was the difference between them more marked thannow, when her beautiful face shone above his, which had the touch of thedestroyer already upon it; never was the love between them more markedthan now, when he leaned in his weakness upon her who had never failedhim in all their wedded years. 

His eyes were half closed as if in rest; but he heard her enter, andMrs. Levice felt the tremor that thrilled him as Ruth approached. 

"My child. "

The softly whispered love-name of old made her tremble; she smiledthrough 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 lipssoftly upon his forehead. Ruth, kneeling beside the bed, noticed howloosely 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 yourtwo 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 hersin 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 immediatelyanswered, and she called softly; receiving no reply, she turned theknob, which yielded to her hand. Sunbeams danced merrily about the roomof the young man, who sat in their light in a dejected attitude. Heevidently had made no change in his toilet; and as Ruth stoodunnoticed beside him, her eyes wandered over his gray, unshaven face, travel-stained and weary to a degree. She laid her hand upon hisshoulder. 

"Louis, " she called gently. 

He shook under her touch, but made no further sign that he knew of herpresence. 

"You must be so tired, Louis, " she continued sympathetically. 

It may have been the words, it may have been the tone, it may have beenthat 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 LouisArnold was a marvel. It did not last long; and as he rose from his chairhe 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 canbe done will be done. Is he resting now?"

"Yes; if to breathe like that is to rest. Oh, Louis, when I think howfor months he has suffered alone, it almost drives me crazy. "

"Why think of it, then? Or, if you must, remember that in his surpassingunselfishness he saved you much anxiety; for you could not have helpedhim. "

"Not with our sympathy?"

"Not him, Ruth; to know that you suffered for him was--would have beenhis 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 cardhad been pinned under the door-bell; and the many friends, who inthe 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. Heexpected Dr. H----- for a consultation. This he had done as a voucherand a sort of comforting assurance that nothing would be left undone. Dr. H----- came in blandly; he went out gravely. There was little to besaid. 

Kemp walked thoughtfully upstairs after his colleague had left, and wentstraight to Arnold's room. The freedom of the house was his; he seemedto have established himself here simply through his earnestness anddevotion. 

"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. Youknow this; but if he should have a spell of coughing, the end might besudden. "

A cold pallor overspread Louis's face at the confirmation of his secretfears. 

He bowed slightly and cleared his throat before answering. 

"There will be no necessity, " he said; "my uncle intends doing sohimself. "

"He must not hasten it by excitement, " said Kemp, moving toward thedoor. 

"That is unavoidable, " returned Arnold. "You must know he had an objectin hurrying home. "

"I did not know; but I shall prevent any unnecessary effort to speak. Ifyou 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 ofconcealed power which emanated from him. He left the room withoutanother 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 samefeeling; except for a little--"

"There, there, " quieted Kemp; "don't exhaust yourself. Miss Levice, thatfan, 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, whereare 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; "Ishall 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 herhand quickly over it. 

Kemp gave one sharp glance over to the bed; Ruth had laid her headbeside her father's and held his hand. In such a house, in every Jewishhouse, one finds the best nurses in the family. 

Chapter XXV

Shafts of pale sunlight darted into the room and rested on Mr. Levice'shair, covering it with a silver glory, --they trailed along the silkencoverlet, but stopped there; one little beam strayed slowly, and almostas if with intention, toward Arnold, seated near the foot of the bed. Ruth, lovely in her pallor, sat near him; Mrs. Levice, on the otherside of the bed, leaned back in her chair placed close to her husband'spillow; more remote, though inadvertently so, sat Dr. Kemp. It was byMr. Levice's desire that these four had assembled here. 

He was sitting up, supported by many pillows; his face was hollow andcolorless; his hands lay listlessly upon the counterpane. No one toucheshim; bathed in sunlight, as he was, the others seemed in shadow. When hespoke, his voice was almost a whisper, but it was distinctly audibleto the four intent listeners; only the clock seemed to accompany hisstaccato 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 werewaiting for him, and thought sprang, strong and powerful, to his face. 

"Dr. Kemp, " he began, "I have something to say to you, --to you inparticular, and to my daughter Ruth. My wife and nephew know in briefwhat I have to say; therefore I need not dwell on the painful eventthat happened here last September; you will pardon me, when you see thenecessity, 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 theceiling, --and the look of convulsive agony that swept across Ruth's facewas unnoticed. 

"In all my long, diversified life, " he went on, "I had never suffered asI did after she told me her decision, --for in all those years no onehad 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 inthis case, with knowledge aforethought, --when the blow fell upon my ownchild. You will understand, and perhaps forgive, when I say I gave nothought to you. She came to me with her sweet, renunciating hands heldout, and with a smile of self-forgetfulness, said, 'Father, you areright; I could not be happy with this man. ' At the moment I believedher, thinking she had adopted my views; but with all her bravery, herreal 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 happinesswith you, --my pain would form an eclipse strong enough to darkeneverything. Do you think this knowledge made me glad or proud? Do youknow how love, that in the withholding justifies itself, suffers fromthe pain inflicted? But I said, 'After all, it is as I think; shewill thank me for it some day. ' I was not altogether selfish, pleaseremember. Then, as I saw her silent wrestling, came distrust of myself;I remembered I was pitted against two, younger and no more fallible thanmyself. As soon as doubt of myself attacked me, I strove to look onthe other side; I strove to rid myself of the old prejudices, the oldsuperstitions, the old narrowness of faith; it was useless, --I was tooold, and my prejudices had become part of me. It was in this state ofperturbation that I had gone one day up to the top floor of the PalaceHotel. Thank you, Doctor. "

The latter had quietly risen and administered a stimulant. As he resumedhis seat, Levice continued:

"I was seated at a window overlooking Market Street. Below me surged ablack mass of crowding, jostling, hurrying beings, so far removed theyseemed like little dots, each as large and no larger than his fellows. Above them stretched the same blue arch of heaven, they breathed thesame air, trod in each other's footsteps; and yet I knew they were allso 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 willunderstand the feeling. And so I judged these aliens. Which was greater;which was less? This one, who from birth and inheritance is ableto stand the equal of any one, or this one, who through birth andinheritance blinks blindly at the good and beautiful? Character andcircumstance are not altogether of our own making; they are, to agreat degree, results of inherited tendencies over which we have nocontrol, --accidents of birthplace, in the choosing of which we had novoice. 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 theexcuse for humanity. I was overwhelmed with one feeling, --only Godcan weigh such circumstantial evidence; we, in our little knowledge ofresults, pronounce sentence, but final judgment is reserved for a highercourt, that sees the cross-purposes in which we are blindly caught. So with everything. Below me prayed Christian and Jew, Mohammedan andBrahmin, idolater and agnostic. Why was one man different in this wayfrom his fellows? Because he was born so, because his parents were so, because he was bred so, because it seemed natural and convenient toremain so, --custom and environment had made his religion. Because JesusChrist dared to attack their existing customs and beliefs, the Jews, then powerful, first reviled, then feared, then slew him; because theJews could not honestly say, 'I believe this man to be a God, ' they werehurled from their eminence and dragged, living, for centuries in thedust. And yet why? Because God withheld and still withholds from thislittle band the power of believing in Christ as his son. Christians callthis a wilful weakness; Jews call it strength. After all, who is tobe praised or blamed for it? God. Then instead of beating the Jew, andinstead of sneering at the Christian, let each pity the other; becauseone, 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 likesaluting 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 shotthrough me. 

"It was not until I went to New York that the feelings I thenexperienced took on a definite shape. There, removed from my old haunts, I wandered alone when I could. Then I thought of you, my friend, ofyou, my child, and beside you I was pitiful, --pitiful, because in mynarrowness I had thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishingrestriction. I resolved to be practical; I have been accused of beinga dreamer. I grasped your two images before me and drew parallels. Socially each was as high as the other. Mentally the woman was as strongin her sphere as the man was in his. Physically both were perfect typesof pure, healthy blood. Morally both were irreproachable. Religiouslyeach held a broad love for God and man. I stood convicted; I was inthe position of a blind fool who, with a beautiful picture before him, fastens his critical, condemning gaze upon a rusting nail in the rustingwall behind, --a nail even now loosened, and which in another generationwill be displaced. Yet what was I to do? Come back and tell you that Ihad been needlessly cruel? What would that avail? True, I might make youbelieve that I no longer thought marriage between you wrong; but thatwould not remove the fact that the world, which so easily makes us happyor 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 withme, and it seemed as if I never could get to you. 'Is this Nemesis, ' Ithought, 'or divine interposition?' So I struggled till Louis came. Thenall was easier. I told him everything and said, 'Louis, what shallI do?' 'only this, ' he answered simply: 'tell them that their happymarriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the world will be asnothing to these two who love each other. '"

The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of thecoverlet 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 hadcovered her face with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, withher eyes on Louis. Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meetingLevice's eyes. 

"I believe--and my wife believes, " said Levice, heavily, as if the wordswere 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 thishappiness. 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 asKemp's large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped hishead, 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 daysto live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, myRuth, as I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may bepermitted sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a goodgirl, 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 blessyour new life? Will you let me see this? And listen, --will you let theworld know that you were married with my sanction, and did not have towait 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 roommade 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 timegiving 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 wouldlike to have. "

"I think not, " he decided, noting with a pang the pale, weary face ofLevice; "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 goodman with the legal right is as good as another to marry you. "

There was little more said then. Kemp turned to Mrs. Levice and raisedher hand to his lips. Arnold confronted him with a pale, smiling face;the two men wrung each other's hands, passing out together immediatelyafter. 

Chapter XXVI

Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice. Thelatter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head layback among the pillows as if the support were grateful. Still hiseager 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 keptan expectant eye upon the door. When Ruth entered, he went forward tomeet 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 shewalked toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes wasall for her father. Thought could hold no rival for him that day. 

"This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens, " said Kemp, presenting them. A swiftlook of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman's beetle-brows ashe bent over her hand. Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughterof little Jules Levice? Where did she get that pure Madonna face, thatregal bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth? The explanation wassufficient when Mrs. Levice entered. They stood talking, not much, butin that wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking. Theywere waiting for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of paleheliotropes. He always looked well and in character when dressed forsome 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 likethe damask skin of a young girl than ever; his eyes, however, behindtheir 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 themwith my love?"

"They are both very dear to me, " she replied, raising the flowers to herlips. 

Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was beingperformed. It was a striking picture, and one not likely to beforgotten. Levice's eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as helooked at his daughter, --for never had she looked as to-day in hersimple white gown, her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream;standing next to Kemp, the well-mated forms were noticeable. EvenArnold, with his heart like a crushed ball of lead, acknowledged itin bitter resignation. For him the scene was one of those silent, purgatorial moments that are approached with senses steeled and thoughtheld in a vice. To the others it passed, as if it had happened in adream. Even when Kemp stooped and pressed his lips for the first timeupon his wife's, the real meaning of what had taken place seemed faraway to Ruth; the present held but one thing in prominence, --the paleface upon the pillow. She felt her mother's arms around her; she knewthat Louis had raised her hand to his lips, that she had drawn his headdown and kissed him, that Dr. Kemp was standing silently beside her, that the minister had spoken some gravely pleasant words; but all thewhile 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; andwhen she was drawn into the outstretched arms, there was only the longsilence of love. 

Kemp had left the room with Dr. Stephens, having a further favor tointrust to him. The short announcement of this marriage, which Dr. Stephens gave for insertion in the evening papers, created a world oftalk. 

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 oldfather 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 asthey arose. 

Ruth moved about, closing the blinds. 

"Don't close out all the sun, " said her father; "I like it, --it is anold friend. After all, I don't think I'll sleep; let me lie here andlook at you all awhile. Louis, my boy, must you go?"

"Oh, no, " he replied, turning back from the door and gliding into achair. 

"Thank you; and now don't think of me. Go on talking; it will be aforetaste of something better to lie here and listen. Esther, are youcold? I felt a shudder go through your hand, love. Ruth, give yourmother a shawl; don't forget that sometimes some one should see thatyour mother is not cold. Just talk, will you?"

So they talked, --that is, the men did. Their grave, deep voices andthe heavily breathing of the invalid were the only sounds in the room. Finally, as the twilight stole in, it was quite still. Levice haddropped into a sort of stupor. Kemp arose then. 

"I shall be back presently, " he said, addressing Mrs. Levice, whostarted perceptibly as he spoke. "I have some few directions to give tomy 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 hesleeps, and these instructions are important. Don't stir, Arnold; I knowmy way out. "

Nevertheless Arnold accompanied him to the door. Ruth gave little heedto their movements. Her agitated heart had grasped the fact that thelines upon her father's face had grown weaker and paler, his breathingshorter and more rasping; when she passed him and touched his hand, itseemed cold and lifeless. 

At nine the doctor came in again; the only appreciable difference in hisgoing or coming was that no one rose or made any formal remarks. Hewent up to the bed and placed his hand on the sleeping head. Mrs. Levicemoved her chair slightly as he seated himself on the edge of the bedand took Levice's hand. Ruth, watching him with wide, distended eyes, thought he would never drop it. Her senses, sharpened by suffering, readevery 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 himsince the afternoon ceremony. He turned back to Levice, lowering his earto his chest. After a faint, almost imperceptible pause he arose. 

"I think you had all better lie down, " he said softly. "I shall sit withhim, 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 theposition 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 strayingfrom the printed page before him to the "finis" writing itself slowlyon Jules Levice's face, and thence to Ruth's pale profile; she wascrying, --so quietly, though, that but for the visible tears an onlookermight not have known it; she herself did not, --her heart was silentlyoverflowing. 

Toward morning Levice suddenly sprang up in bed and made as if to leapupon 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, whichgleamed as the light fell on them. 

Mrs. Levice seated herself beside him. 

"It is very early, Jules, " she said, smiling with hope, not knowing thatthis deceptive feeling was but the rose-flush of the sinking sun; "butif 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 smilecrossed 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 lefthome 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 gofor him. As she came into the hall, she saw him and Louis hurriedlyadvancing up the corridor. Seeing her, they reached her side in abreath. 

"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 takeit off till--another takes it--it will not be hard then. " Suddenly hesaw Louis standing pale and straight at the foot of the bed. 

"My good boy, " he faltered, "my good boy, God will bless--" His eyesclosed 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 inits passage; dropping the toils, expanding with infinity. Not utterlygone; immortality is assured us in the hearts that have touched ours. 

Silence. A shadow falls, and Jules Levice's work is done; and the firstsunbeams crept about him, lay at his feet a moment, touched the quiethands, fell on the head like a benediction, and rested there. 

Chapter XXVII

"I thought you would be quiet at this hour, " said Rose Delano, seatingherself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening afterthe funeral. They looked so different even in the waning light, --Ruthin 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, hereyes 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 ifonly to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where tofind 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 colormounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was onerosy 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, andwhat I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, Ipray, fall on you two who have been so much to me. Miss Gwynne told methat to do good was your birthright. She said that the funeral, with itsvast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippledof all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those whothought they knew him best. You should feel very proud with such sweetmemories. "

"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 quaintarabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a richyellow light. A carriage rolled up in front of the house. Dr. Kemphanded the reins to his man and alighted. He walked slowly up to thedoor. It was very still about the house in the evening twilight. Hepushed 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 quickmotion, 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 wasabsorbed in a new train of thought. Rose Delano was the first one whohad clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married. She had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, lookingat her grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would havecalled for congratulation. Rose, who knew only these two, naturallydwelt on their changed relations. Her husband! Her dormant love gavean exultant bound. Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; shesprang to her feet; the door opened, and he came in. He saw her standingfaintly 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 inhis close clasp, and let them fall slowly. "Bob sent you these earlyviolets. 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 washidden in the violets. 

"Upstairs with Louis. They had something to arrange. Did you wish to seeher?" 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 theycome in. "

As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in anotherbefore her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face. Thefaraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad dayshad been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong willevery impulse for any closer recognition. But this new look, --what didit mean? In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen tohis own cheeks. 

"I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day, " he observed; "shall Itell it to you?"

"If it will not tire you. "

Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see thelook of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him. 

"Oh, no, " he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection. "I wascoming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached thefoot, when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with aneager light in his eyes. 'Aren't you Dr. Kemp?' he asked breathlessly, like one who had been running. I recollected him the instant he raisedhis 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 replieddismissing the subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers. 'Isay, do you ever see Miss Levice nowadays?' I looked at him with ahalf-smile, not knowing whether to set him right or not, when he finallyblurted 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, hisvoice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyessought hers. Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended. 

"I said you were my wife, " he repeated softly, leaning forward, hishands grasping the chair-arms. 

"And what, " asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice, --"what didWill say?"

"Who cared?" he asked, quickly moving closer to her; "do you?" He caughther hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingerswith hers. 

"Ruth, " he asked below his breath, "have you forgotten entirely what weare to each other?"

It was such a cruel lover's act to make her face him thus, her bosompanting, 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 fromhers. He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fearoverpowering him. 

"You mean, " he said quietly, "that you no longer love me, --say it nowand have it over. "

"Oh, " she cried in exquisite pain, "why do you tantalize me so--can'tyou see that--"

She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drewher to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers. 

A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down. Mrs. Levice enteredfirst and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, sawtoo--nothing but Ruth standing encircled by her husband's arm; herlovely face smiled into his, which looked down at her with an expressionthat drove every drop of blood from Arnold's face. For a moment theywere unseen; but when Ruth, who was the first to feel their presence, started from Kemp as if she had committed a crime, Arnold came forwardentirely 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, drewhis head down and kissed him. 

Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it withshy, sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her. Sorrow had softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, shewooed everybody by her manner. 

"What were you saying of me?" she asked, keeping Ruth's hand in hersand looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his faceradiant with gladness. 

"We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great houseto our little one, till we find something better. "

Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his backhalf turned, looking over a book. 

"It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now, " she said, hervoice trembling slightly; "but I never could leave this house tostrangers, --every room is too full of old associations, and sweetmemories 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 byyourselves; even I should be an intruder. There, Ruth, don't I know? Andwhen 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 haveher 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.