Other Things Being Equal [72]
to ignore the opportunity? A vision of her own sad face obtruded itself, but she put it sternly from her. If she were to do this thing, the motive alone must be considered; and she rigidly kept in view the fact that her marriage would be the only means by which her father might be relieved of the haunting knowledge of her lost peace of mind. Had she given one thought to Louis, the possibility of the act would have been abhorrent to her. One picture she kept constantly before her, --her father's happy eyes.
Chapter XXII
Mrs. Levice's gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was embroidering to Ruth's pale face. Every time the latter stirred, her mother started expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not forthcoming. Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the feeling of comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call comfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth's face had at last led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark shadows 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 sit up late last night?"
This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so evident to her now.
"No," she replied; "I believe it could not have been nine when I went upstairs."
"Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis's company unpleasant?"
"Oh, no," was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page again.
Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such tactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of which her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almost positive that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash of intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. It was natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so reserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something more.
"For my part," she observed, as if continuing a discussion, "I think Louis charming in a tete-a-tete, --when he feels inclined to be interesting he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worth repeating? It is a dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little."
She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and encountered 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, but regarding her intently.
Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment before answering.
"I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had decided I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked me to--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 Louis Arnold 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 tell her mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have been looking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean by saying 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 waiting for me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have been honored."
"Honor is not everything, Mamma."
At that moment a desperate longing for her mother's sympathy seized her; but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would occasion came to her, and her lips remained closed.
"No," responded her mother, "and you have more than that; surely Louis
Chapter XXII
Mrs. Levice's gaze strayed pensively from the violets she was embroidering to Ruth's pale face. Every time the latter stirred, her mother started expectantly; but the anxiously awaited disclosure was not forthcoming. Outside the rain kept up a sullen downpour, deepening the feeling of comfort indoors; but Mrs. Levice was not what one might call comfortably-minded. Her frequent inventories of Ruth's face had at last led her to believe that the pallor there depicted and the heavy, dark shadows 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 sit up late last night?"
This was a leading move, but Ruth evaded the deeper meaning that was so evident to her now.
"No," she replied; "I believe it could not have been nine when I went upstairs."
"Why? Were you too fatigued to sit up, or was Louis's company unpleasant?"
"Oh, no," was the abrupt response, and her eyes fell on the open page again.
Mrs. Levice, once started on the trail, was not to be baffled by such tactics. Since Ruth was not ill, she had had some mental disturbance of which her weary appearance was the consequence. She felt almost positive that Louis had made some advances last night, from the flash of intelligence with which he had met her telegraphic expression. It was natural for her to be curious; it was unnatural for Ruth to be so reserved. With feelings not a little hurt she decided to know something more.
"For my part," she observed, as if continuing a discussion, "I think Louis charming in a tete-a-tete, --when he feels inclined to be interesting he generally succeeds. Did he tell you anything worth repeating? It is a dull afternoon, and you might entertain me a little."
She looked up from the violet petal she had just completed and encountered 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, but regarding her intently.
Ruth passed her hand wearily across her brow, and considered a moment before answering.
"I did not wish to hurt you by my silence, Mamma; but before I had decided I hardly thought it necessary to say anything. He asked me to--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 Louis Arnold 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 tell her mother in the night. Oh, Ruth darling, I am so glad. I have been looking forward to this ever since you grew up. What did you mean by saying 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 waiting for me to help you to it? I scarcely need tell you how you have been honored."
"Honor is not everything, Mamma."
At that moment a desperate longing for her mother's sympathy seized her; but the next minute the knowledge of the needless sorrow it would occasion came to her, and her lips remained closed.
"No," responded her mother, "and you have more than that; surely Louis