Other Things Being Equal [47]
the back of his head was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned, --a wave of color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth, --a woman's face dare not speak sometimes.
"Did I startle you?" he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
"Yes," she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into silence.
She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till she stood at her side.
"I interrupted you," he continued; "will you shake hands with me, nevertheless?"
She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that moment she had time to compose herself.
"Do you often come up this way?" she questioned.
He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm against the tree, answered, --
"Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my select spots. I knew you would ferret it out."
"It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is growing old. Come, Ethel."
A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him. Why should she hurry off at his coming?
"I am sorry my presence disturbs you," he said quietly; "But I can easily go away again."
"Was I so rude?" she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. "I did not mean it so; but Ethel's mother will want her now."
"Ethel wants to be carried," begged the child.
"All right; Ruth will carry you," and she stooped to raise her; but as she did so, Kemp's strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
"Ethel will ride home on my shoulder," he said in the gay, winning voice he knew how so well to use with children. The baby's blue eyes smiled in response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There is nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little child reposes in a strong man.
So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
Chapter XV
Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching. For a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire. When he did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude, took possession of him. He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth's birthnight by a vague something in Kemp's eyes. The feeling, however, had vanished gradually in the knowledge that the doctor always had a peculiarly intent gaze, and, moreover, no one could have helped appreciating her loveliness that night. This, of itself, will bring a softness into a man's manner; and without doubt his fears had been groundless, --fears that he had not dared to put into words. For old man as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp's strong personality was such as would prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom he cared to honor with his favor; but with a "Get thee behind me, Satan" desire, he had put the question from him. He could have taken his oath on Ruth's heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his misgivings returned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was at his ease as they came up.
"This is a surprise, Doctor," he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate and extending his hand. "Who would have thought of meeting you here?"
Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
"I am a sort of surprise-party," he answered, swinging Ethel to the ground and watching her scamper off to the hotel; "and what is more," he continued, turning to him, "I have not brought a hamper, which makes one of me."
"You calculate without your host," responded Levice; "this is a veritable land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wife rhapsodize."
"How is she?" he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of Ruth's vanishing figure.
"Feeling quite well," replied Levice; "she is all impatience now for a delirious winter season."
"I thought so," laughed the doctor;
"Did I startle you?" he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
"Yes," she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into silence.
She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till she stood at her side.
"I interrupted you," he continued; "will you shake hands with me, nevertheless?"
She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that moment she had time to compose herself.
"Do you often come up this way?" she questioned.
He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm against the tree, answered, --
"Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my select spots. I knew you would ferret it out."
"It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is growing old. Come, Ethel."
A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him. Why should she hurry off at his coming?
"I am sorry my presence disturbs you," he said quietly; "But I can easily go away again."
"Was I so rude?" she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. "I did not mean it so; but Ethel's mother will want her now."
"Ethel wants to be carried," begged the child.
"All right; Ruth will carry you," and she stooped to raise her; but as she did so, Kemp's strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
"Ethel will ride home on my shoulder," he said in the gay, winning voice he knew how so well to use with children. The baby's blue eyes smiled in response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There is nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little child reposes in a strong man.
So through the mellow, golden sunlight they strolled slowly homeward.
Chapter XV
Mr. Levice, sauntering down the garden-path, saw the trio approaching. For a moment he did not recognize the gentleman in his summer attire. When he did, surprise, then pleasure, then a spirit of inquietude, took possession of him. He had been unexpectedly startled on Ruth's birthnight by a vague something in Kemp's eyes. The feeling, however, had vanished gradually in the knowledge that the doctor always had a peculiarly intent gaze, and, moreover, no one could have helped appreciating her loveliness that night. This, of itself, will bring a softness into a man's manner; and without doubt his fears had been groundless, --fears that he had not dared to put into words. For old man as he was, he realized that Dr. Kemp's strong personality was such as would prove dangerously seductive to any woman whom he cared to honor with his favor; but with a "Get thee behind me, Satan" desire, he had put the question from him. He could have taken his oath on Ruth's heart-wholeness, yet now, as he recognized her companion, his misgivings returned threefold. The courteous gentleman, however, was at his ease as they came up.
"This is a surprise, Doctor," he exclaimed cordially, opening the gate and extending his hand. "Who would have thought of meeting you here?"
Kemp grasped his hand heartily.
"I am a sort of surprise-party," he answered, swinging Ethel to the ground and watching her scamper off to the hotel; "and what is more," he continued, turning to him, "I have not brought a hamper, which makes one of me."
"You calculate without your host," responded Levice; "this is a veritable land of milk and honey. Come up and listen to my wife rhapsodize."
"How is she?" he asked, turning with him and catching a glimpse of Ruth's vanishing figure.
"Feeling quite well," replied Levice; "she is all impatience now for a delirious winter season."
"I thought so," laughed the doctor;