Other Things Being Equal [39]
"Of what were you thinking, darling?" he continued, putting his hand under her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.
"Well," she answered slowly, "I was not thinking of anything important; I was thinking of you. We are going to Beacham's next week--and have you any fine silk shirts?"
He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.
"Well, no," he answered; "I leave all such fancies to your care. So we go next week. I am glad; and you?"
"I? Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know."
"Yes. Well, good-night, love." He took her face between his hands, and drawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweet solemnity, --
"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.
"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.
"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'"
Chapter XIII
It was August. The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until the gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the quiet autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.
Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to continue the management of the household affairs until their return, a month later. Besides which, numerous little private incidentals had to be put in running order for a month, and she realized with a pang at parting with some of her simple, sincere proteges that were this part of her life withdrawn, the rest would pall insufferably.
The evening before their departure she stood bareheaded upon the steps of the veranda with Louis, who was enjoying a post-prandial smoke. Mr. and Mrs. Levice, in the soft golden gloaming of late summer, were strolling arm-in-arm among the flower-beds. Mrs. Levice, without obviously looking toward them, felt with satisfaction that Ruth was looking well in a plain black gown which she had had no time to change after her late shopping. She did not know that, close and isolated as the young man and woman stood, not only were they silent, but each appeared oblivious of the other's presence.
Ruth, with her hands clasped behind her, and Arnold, blowing wreaths of blue smoke into the heliotrope-scented air, looked as if under a dream-spell.
As Mrs. Levice passed within ear-shot, Ruth heard snatches of the broken sentence, --
"Jennie--good-by--to-day."
This roused her from her revery, and she called to her mother, --
"Why, I forgot to drop in at Jennie's this afternoon, as I promised."
"How annoying! When you know how sensitive she is and how angry she gets at any neglect."
"I can run out there now. It is light enough."
"But it will be dark in less than an hour. Louis, will you go out to Jennie's with Ruth?"
"Eh? Oh, certainly, if she wishes me."
"I wish you to come if you yourself wish it. I'll run in and get my hat and jacket while you decide."
Ruth came back in a few minutes with a jaunty little sailor hat on and a light gray jacket, which she handed to Louis to hold for her.
"New?" he asked, pulling it into place in the back.
"Yes," she answered; "do you like it for travelling?"
"Under a duster. Otherwise its delicate complexion will be rather freckled when you arrive at Beacham's."
He pulled his hat on from ease to respectability and followed her down to the gate. They turned the corner, walking southward toward the valley. Mrs. Levice and her husband stood at the gate and watched them saunter off. When they were quite out of sight, Mrs. Levice turned around and sang gayly to Mr. Levice, "'Ca va bien!'"
The other two walked on silently. The evening was perfect. To the west and sweeping toward Golden Gate a hazy glory flushed the sky rose-color and molten gold, purple and silver; and then seas of glinting pale green to the northward held the eye with their beauty. The air was soft and languorous after a very warm day; now and then a piano, violin, or mandolin sounded through open windows; the peace and beauty of rest was over all.
They continued down Van Ness Avenue a few blocks, and unconsciously turned