Other Things Being Equal [85]
was not until I went to New York that the feelings I then experienced took on a definite shape. There, removed from my old haunts, I wandered alone when I could. Then I thought of you, my friend, of you, my child, and beside you I was pitiful, --pitiful, because in my narrowness I had thought myself strong enough to uphold a vanishing restriction. I resolved to be practical; I have been accused of being a dreamer. I grasped your two images before me and drew parallels. Socially each was as high as the other. Mentally the woman was as strong in her sphere as the man was in his. Physically both were perfect types of pure, healthy blood. Morally both were irreproachable. Religiously each held a broad love for God and man. I stood convicted; I was in the position of a blind fool who, with a beautiful picture before him, fastens his critical, condemning gaze upon a rusting nail in the rusting wall behind, --a nail even now loosened, and which in another generation will be displaced. Yet what was I to do? Come back and tell you that I had been needlessly cruel? What would that avail? True, I might make you believe that I no longer thought marriage between you wrong; but that would not remove the fact that the world, which so easily makes us happy or otherwise, did not see as I saw. In this vortex I was stricken ill. All the while I wanted to hasten to you, to tell you how it was with me, and it seemed as if I never could get to you. 'Is this Nemesis,' I thought, 'or divine interposition?' So I struggled till Louis came. Then all was easier. I told him everything and said, 'Louis, what shall I do?' "only this,' he answered simply: 'tell them that their happy marriage will be your happiness, and the rest of the world will be as nothing to these two who love each other.'"
The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the coverlet and gave a leap upon Louis's shoulder like an angle's finger, but his gaze remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling. Ruth had covered her face with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with her eyes on Louis. Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting Levice's eyes.
"I believe--and my wife believes," said Levice, heavily, as if the words were so many burdens, "that our child will be happy only as your wife, and that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this happiness. Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter. Ruth!"
She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
"Little one," he faltered, "I have been very cruel in my ignorance."
"Do not think of this, Father," she whispered.
"I must," he said, taking her hand in his. "Kemp, your hand, please."
He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as Kemp's large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his head, kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
"There is one thing more," he said. "At the utmost I have but a few days to live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my Ruth, as I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may be permitted sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a good girl, and now I am going to ask you to do one thing more--you also, Doctor. Will you be married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless your new life? Will you let me see this? And listen, --will you let the world know that you were married with my sanction, and did not have to wait till the old man was dead? Will you do this for me, my dear ones?"
"Will you, Ruth?" asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father's eager eyes.
"I will," she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room made it audible.
Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
"Always doing things for her ugly old father," he murmured; "this time giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love."
"Oh, hush, my darling."
"You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would
The old man paused; the little sunbeam had reached the end of the coverlet and gave a leap upon Louis's shoulder like an angle's finger, but his gaze remained fixed upon the cupids on the ceiling. Ruth had covered her face with her hands. Mrs. Levice was softly weeping, with her eyes on Louis. Dr. Kemp had risen and stood, tall and pale, meeting Levice's eyes.
"I believe--and my wife believes," said Levice, heavily, as if the words were so many burdens, "that our child will be happy only as your wife, and that nothing should stand in the way of the consummation of this happiness. Dr. Kemp, you have assured me you still love my daughter. Ruth!"
She sprang to her feet, looking only at her father.
"Little one," he faltered, "I have been very cruel in my ignorance."
"Do not think of this, Father," she whispered.
"I must," he said, taking her hand in his. "Kemp, your hand, please."
He grasped the strong white hand and drew the two together; and as Kemp's large hand closed firmly over her little one, Levice stooped his head, kissed them thus clasped, and laid his hand upon them.
"There is one thing more," he said. "At the utmost I have but a few days to live. I shall not see your happiness: I shall not see you, my Ruth, as I have often pictured you. Ah, well, darling, a father may be permitted sweet dreams of his only child. You have always been a good girl, and now I am going to ask you to do one thing more--you also, Doctor. Will you be married now, this day, here, so that I may yet bless your new life? Will you let me see this? And listen, --will you let the world know that you were married with my sanction, and did not have to wait till the old man was dead? Will you do this for me, my dear ones?"
"Will you, Ruth?" asked Kemp, softly, his fingers pressing hers gently.
Ruth stifled a sob as she met her father's eager eyes.
"I will," she answered so low that only the intense silence in the room made it audible.
Levice separated their hands and held one on each of his cheeks.
"Always doing things for her ugly old father," he murmured; "this time giving up a pretty wedding-day that all girls so love."
"Oh, hush, my darling."
"You will have no guests, unless, Doctor, there is some one you would