"You see, when it comes to action, my broad views dwindle down to detail, and I am only an old man with old-fashioned ideas. However, I shall remind Dr. Kemp of this grave consideration, and then--you will not object to this?"
"Oh, no; but I know--I know--" What did she know except of the greatness of his love that would annihilate all her father's forebodings?
"Yes," her father answered the half-spoken thought; "I know too. But ponder this well, as I shall insist on his doing; then, on Monday night, when you have both satisfactorily answered to each other every phase of this terrible difference, I shall have nothing more to say."
Love is so selfish. Ruth, hugging her happiness, failed, as she had never failed before, to mark the wearied voice, the pale face, and the sad eyes of her father.
"Your mother will soon be awake," he said; "had you not better go back?"
Something that she had expected was wanting in this meeting; she looked at him reproachfully, her mouth visibly trembling.
"What is it?" he asked gently.
"Why, Father, you are so cold and hard, and you have not even--"
"Wait till Monday night, Ruth. Then I will do anything you ask me. Now go back to your mother, but understand, not a word of this to her yet. I shall not recur to this again; meanwhile we shall both have something to think of."
That afternoon Dr. Kemp received the following brief note:-- BEACHAM'S, August 25, 188--..
DR. KEMP:
DEAR SIR,-
Have you forgotten that my daughter is a Jewess; that you are a Christian?
Till Monday night I shall expect you to consider this question from every possible point of view. If then both you and my daughter can satisfactorily override the many objections I undoubtedly have, I shall raise no obstacle to your desires.
Sincerely your friend, JULES LEVICE.
In the mean time Ruth was thinking it all out. Love was blinding her, dazzling her; and the giants that rose before her were dwarfed into pygmies, at which she tried to look gravely, but succeeded only in smiling at their feebleness. Love was an Armada, and bore down upon the little armament that thought called up, and rode it all to atoms.
Small wonder, then, that on their return on Monday morning, as little Rose Delano stood in Ruth's room looking up into her friend's face, the dreamy, starry eyes, the smiles that crept in thoughtful dimples about the corners of her mouth, the whole air of a mysterious something, baffled and bewildered her.
Upon Ruth's writing-table rested a basket of delicate Marechal Niel buds, almost veiled in tender maiden-hair; the anonymous sender was not unknown.
"It has agreed well with you, Miss Levice," said Rose, in her gentle, patient voice, that seemed so out of keeping with her young face. "You look as if you had been dipped in a love-elixir."
"So I have," laughed Ruth, her hand straying to the velvety buds; "it has made a 'nut-brown mayde' of me, I think, Rosebud. But tell me the city news. Everything in running order? Tell me."
"Everything is as your kind help has willed it. I have a pleasant little room with a middle-aged couple on Post Street. Altogether I earn ten dollars over my actual monthly expenses. Oh, Miss Levice, when shall I be able to make you understand how deeply grateful I am?"
"Never, Rose; believe me, I never could understand deep things; that is why I am so happy."
"You are teasing now, with that mischievous light in your eyes. Yet the first time I saw your face I thought that either you had or would have a history."
"Sad?" The sudden poignancy of the question startled Rose.
She looked quickly at her to note if she were as earnest as her voice sounded. The dark eyes smiled daringly, defiantly at her.
"I am no sorceress," she answered evasively but lightly; "look in the glass and see."
"You remind me of Floy Tyrrell. Pooh! Let us talk of something else.
Then it can't be Wednesdays?"
"It can be any day. The Page children can have Friday."
"Do you know how Mr. Page is?"
"Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed Friday?"
"No." She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had had one lesson.
"I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss Dora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little ones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One of the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms.
He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my hand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss Levice, he has no parallel but himself!"
It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It was only very sweet and true.
"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression rested upon her face till evening.
