Other Things Being Equal [80]
"But for some weeks before he left," said Mrs. Levice, "he coughed every morning and night. When I besought him to see a doctor, he ridiculed me out of the idea. How did you find him before he left?"
"I have not seen Mr. Levice for some months," he replied gravely.
Mrs. Levice eyed him questioningly, but he offered no explanation.
"Then do you think," she continued, "that this asthma made the pneumonia more dangerous?"
"Undoubtedly."
Her fingers clutched at the sheet convulsively; but the strength of her voice and aspect remained unbroken.
"Thank you," she said, "for telling me so candidly. Then will you be here to-morrow morning?"
"I shall manage to meet him at Oakland with a closed carriage."
"May I go with you?"
"Pardon me; but it will be best for you to receive him quietly at home. There must be nothing whatever to disturb him. Have all ready, especially yourself."
"I understand," she said. "And now, Doctor, let me thank you for your kindness to me;" she held out both hands. "Will you let Ruth show you to a room, and will you breakfast with us when you have rested?"
"I thank you; it is impossible," he replied, looking at his watch. "I shall hurry home now. Good-morning, Mrs. Levice. There may be small cause for anxiety; and, remember, the less excited you remain, the more you can help him."
He turned from her.
"Ruth, will you see the doctor to the door?"
She followed him down the broad staircase, as in former days, but with a difference. Then he had waited for her to come abreast with him, and they had descended together, talking pleasantly. Now not a word was said till he had put on his heavy outer coat. As he laid his hand on the knob, Ruth spoke, --
"Is there anything I can do for my father, do you think?"
She started as he turned a tired, haggard face to hers.
"I can think of nothing but to have his bed in readiness and complete quiet about the house."
"Yes; and--and do you think there is any danger?"
"No, no! at least, I hope not. I shall be able to tell better when I see him. Is there anything I can do for you?"
She shook her head; she dared not trust herself to speak in the light of his tender eyes. He hastily opened the door, and bowing, closed it quickly behind him.
Chapter XXIV
The sun shone with its usual winter favoritism upon San Francisco this Thursday morning. After the rain the air felt as exhilarating as a day in spring. Young girls tripped forth "in their figures," as the French have it; and even the matrons unfastened their wraps under the genial wooing of sunbeams.
Everything was quiet about the Levice mansion. Neither Ruth nor her mother felt inclined to talk; so when Mrs. Levice took up her position in her husband's room, Ruth wandered downstairs. The silence seemed vocal with her fears.
"So I tell ye's two," remarked the cook as her young mistress passed from the kitchen, "that darter and father is more than kin, they is soul-kin, if ye know what that means; an' the boss's girl do love him more'n seven times seven children which such a man-angel should 'a' had." For the "boss" was to those who served him "little lower than the angels;" and their prayers the night before had held an eloquent appeal for his welfare.
Ruth, with her face against the window, watched in sickening anxiety. She knew they were not to be expected for some time, but it was better to stand here than in the fear-haunted background.
Suddenly and almost miraculously, it seemed to her, a carriage stood before the gate. She flew to the door, and as she opened it leaned for one second blindly against the wall.
"Tell my mother they have come," she gasped to the maid, who had entered the hall.
Then she looked out. Two men were carrying one between them up the walk. As they came nearer, she saw how it was. That bundled-up figure was her father's; that emaciated, dark, furrowed face was her father's; but as they carefully helped him up the steps, and the loud, painful, panting breaths came to her, were they her father's too?