Other Things Being Equal [55]
did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss Dora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little ones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One of the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms. He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my hand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss Levice, he has no parallel but himself!"
It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It was only very sweet and true.
"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression rested upon her face till evening.
Chapter XVII
Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy, low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice. If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had spoken a few disturbing words to her:
"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early, and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him."
At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He was regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
"Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" she questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I told you to consider, Ruth?"
"No, Father."
She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in childhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn this same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the pain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand never could have done.
She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown, that fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color was upon her.
A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him immediately.
She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her swiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.
"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are you tired of me already, love?"
"Not of you; of waiting," she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
"I hardly expected this," he said after a pause; "has your father flown bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?"
"Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while, was it not?" she asked simply.
"It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your exit on his entrance."
"No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the r"le of the audience to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"
He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted him settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it quickly to his breast.
"I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at any rate on the main point, --that
It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It was only very sweet and true.
"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression rested upon her face till evening.
Chapter XVII
Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy, low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice. If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had spoken a few disturbing words to her:
"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early, and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him."
At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He was regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.
"Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" she questioned, her voice slightly trembling.
"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I told you to consider, Ruth?"
"No, Father."
She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in childhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had worn this same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the pain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand never could have done.
She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown, that fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color was upon her.
A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted drawing-room and waited for Kemp.
When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him immediately.
She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her swiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.
"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are you tired of me already, love?"
"Not of you; of waiting," she answered, half shyly meeting his look.
"I hardly expected this," he said after a pause; "has your father flown bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?"
"Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while, was it not?" she asked simply.
"It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your exit on his entrance."
"No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the r"le of the audience to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"
He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted him settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it quickly to his breast.
"I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at any rate on the main point, --that