by Emma Wolf
Chapter IV
Louis Arnold, the only other member of the Levice family, had beenforced to leave town on some business the morning after Mrs. Levice'sattack at the Merrill reception. He was, therefore, much surprised andshocked on his return a week later at finding his aunt in bed and suchrigorous measures for quiet in vogue.
Arnold had been an inmate of the house for the past twelve years. Hewas a direct importation from France, which he had left just beforeattaining his majority, the glory of soldier-life not proving seductiveto his imagination. He had no sooner taken up his abode with his unclethan he was regarded as the most useful and ornamental piece of foreignvertu in the beautiful house.
Being a business man by nature, keen, wary, and indefatigable, he wassoon able to take almost the entire charge of Levice's affairs. In a fewyears his uncle ceased to question his business capabilities. Fromthe time he arrived, he naturally fell into the position of his aunt'sescort, thus again relieving Levice, who preferred the quieter life.
When Ruth began to go into society, his presence was almost a necessity,as Jewish etiquette, or rather Jewish espionage, forbids a young manunattached by blood or intentions to appear as the attendant of a singlewoman. This is one of the ways Jewish heads of families have got intofor keeping the young people apart,--making cowards of the young men,and depriving the young girls of a great deal of innocent pleasure.
Arnold, however, was not an escort to be despised, as Ruth soondiscovered. She very quickly felt a sort of family pride in his cool,quizzical manner and caustic repartee, that was wholly distinct from themore girlish admiration of his distinguished person. He and Ruth weregreat friends in a quiet, unspoken way.
They were sitting together alone in the library on the evening of hisreturn. Mrs. Levice had fallen asleep, and her husband was sitting withher. Ruth had stolen down to keep Louis company, fearing he would feellonesome in the changed aspect of the house.
Arnold lay at full length on the lounge; Ruth swayed backward andforward in the rocker.
"What I am surprised at," he was saying, "is that my aunt submits tothis confining treatment;" he pronounced the last word "tritment," buthe never stopped at a word because of its pronunciation, thus adding acertain piquancy to his speech.
"You would not be surprised if you knew Dr. Kemp; one follows hisdirections blindly."
"So I have heard from a great many--women."
"And not men?"
"I have never happened to hold a conversation with a man on the powersof Dr. Kemp. Women delight in such things."
"What things?"
"Why, giving in to the magnetic power of a strong man."
"You err slightly, Louis; it is the power, not the giving in that wedelight in, counting it a necessary part of manliness."
"Will you allow me to differ with you? Besides, apart from this greatfirst cause, I do not understand how, after a week of it, she has notrebelled."
"I think I can answer that satisfactorily," replied his cousin, amischievous smile parting her lips and showing a row of strong whiteteeth; "she is in love."
"Also?"
"With Father; and so does as she knows will please him best. Love isalso something every one loves to give in to."
"Every one who loves, you mean."
"Every one loves something or some one."
"Behold the exception, therefore." He moved his head so as to get abetter view of her.
"I do not believe you."
"That--is rude." He kept his eyes meditatively fixed upon her.
"Have you made a discovery in my face?" asked the girl presently,slightly moving from his gaze.
"No," he replied calmly. "My discovery was made some time ago; I ammerely going over beautiful and pleasant ground."
"Really?" she returned, flushing, "then please look away; you annoy me."
"Why should I, since you know it is done in admiration? You are a woman;do not pretend distaste for it."
"I shall certainly go upstairs if you persist in talking sodisagreeably."
"Indulge me a little; I feel like talking, and I promise not to bedisagreeable. Always wear white; it becomes you. Never forget thatbeauty needs appropriate surroundings. Another thing, ma belle cousine,this little trick you have of blushing on the slightest provocationspoils your whole appearance. Your complexion should always retain itshealthy whiteness, while--"
"You have been indulged quite sufficiently, Louis. Do you know, if youoften spoke to me in this manner I should soon hate you?"
"That would indeed be unfortunate. Never hate, Ruth; besides makingenemies, hate is an arch enemy to the face, distorting the softest andloveliest."
"We cannot love people who calmly sit and irritate us like mockingtarantulas."
"That is exaggerated, I think. Besides, Heaven forbid our lovingeverybody! Never love, Ruth; let liking be strong enough for you. Loveonly wears out the body and narrows the mind, all to no purpose. Cupid,you know, died young, or wasted to plainness, for he never had hisportrait taken after he matured."
"A character such as you would have would be unbearable."
"But sensible and wise."
"Happily our hearts need no teaching; they love and hate instinctivelybefore the brain can speak."
"Good--for some. But in me behold the anomaly whose brain alwaysreconnoitres the field beforehand, and has never yet considered it worthwhile to signal either 'love' or 'hate.'"
He rose with a smile and sauntered over to the piano. The unbecomingblush mounted slowly to Ruth's face and her eyes were bright as shewatched him. When his hands touched the keys, she spoke.
"No doubt you think it adds to your intellect to pretend independenceof all emotion. But, do you know, I think feeling, instead of being aweakness, is often more clever than wisdom? At any rate, what you aredoing now is proof sufficient that you feel, and perhaps more stronglythan many."
He partly turned on the music-chair, and regarded her questioningly,never, however, lifting his hands from the keys as he played a softlypassionate minor strain.
"What am I doing?" he asked.
"Making love to the piano."
"It does not hurt the piano, does it?"
"No; but never say you do not feel when you play like that."
"Is not that rather peremptory? Who taught you to read characters?"
"You."
"I? What a poor teacher I was to allow you to show such bungling work!Will you sing?"
"No, I shall read; I have had quite enough of myself and of you for onenight."
"Alas, poor me!" he retorted mockingly, and seeming to accompany hiswords with his music; "I am sorry for you, my child, that your emotionsare so troublesome. You have but made your entrance into the coldest,most exciting arena,--the world. Remember what I tell you,--all thestrong motives, love and hate and jealousy, are mere flotsam and jetsam.You are the only loser by their possession."
The quiet closing of the door was his only answer. Ruth had left theroom.
She knew Arnold too well to be affected by his little splurt ofcynicism. If she could escape a cynic either in books or in society,she invariably did so. Life was still beautiful for her; and one of herfather's untaught lessons was that the cynic is a one-sided creature,having lost the eye that sees the compensation balancing all things.As long as Louis attacked things, it did no harm, except to incitea friendly passage-at-arms; hence, most of such talk passed in thespeaking. Not so the disparaging insinuations he had cast at Dr. Kemp.
During the week in which Ruth had established herself as nurse-in-chiefto her mother she had seen him almost daily. Time in a quiet sick-roompasses monotonously; events that are unnoticed in hours of well-beingand activity here assume proportions of importance; meal-times arelooked forward to as a break in the day; the doctor's visit especiallywhen it is the only one allowed, is an excitement. Dr. Kemp's visitswere short, but the two learned to look for his coming and the soundof his deep, cheery voice, as to their morning's tonic that wouldstrengthen the whole day. Natur
ally, as he was a stranger, Mrs. Levicein her idleness had analyzed and discussed aloud his qualities, bothpersonal and professional, to her satisfaction. She had small groundfor basing her judgments, but the doctor formed a good part of herconversation.
Ruth's knowledge of him was somewhat larger,--about the distance betweenMrs. Levice's bedroom and the front door. She had a homely little way ofseeing people to the door, and here it was the doctor gave her anynew instructions. Instructions are soon given and taken; and there wasalways time for a word or two of a different nature.
In the first place, she had been attracted by his horses, a magnificentpair of jetty blacks.
"I wonder if they would despise a lump of sugar," she said one morning.
"Why should they?" asked Kemp.
"Oh, they seem to hold their heads so haughtily."
"Still, they are human enough to know sweets when they see them," theirowner replied, taking in the beautiful figure of the young girl in herquaint, flowered morning-gown. "Try them once, and you won't doubt it."
She did try them; and as she turned a slightly flushed face to Kemp, whostood beside her, he held out his hand, saying almost boyishly, "Let methank you and shake hands for my horses."
One can become eloquent, witty, or tender over the weather. The doctorbecame neither of these; but Ruth, whose spirits were mercuriallyaffected by the atmosphere, always viewed the elements with the eye of aprivate signal-service reporter.
"This is the time for a tramp," she said, as they stood on the veranda,and the summer air, laden with the perfume of heliotrope, stole aroundthem. "That is where the laboring man has the advantage over you, Dr.Kemp."
"Which, ten to one, he finds a disadvantage. I must confess that in suchweather every healthy individual with time at his disposal should beinhaling this air at a leisurely trot or stride as his habit may be.You, Miss Levice, should get on your walking togs instantly."
"Yes, but not conveniently. My father and I never failed to take ourmorning constitutional together when all was well. Father always gave methe dubious compliment of saying I walked as straight and took as longstrides as a boy. Being a great lover of the exercise, I was sorry mypas was not ladylike."
"You doubtless make a capital companion, as your father evidentlyremembered what a troublesome thing it is to conform one's length oflimb to the dainty footsteps of a woman."
"Father has no trouble on that score," said Ruth, laughing.
The doctor smiled in response, and raising his hat, said, "That is wherehe has the advantage over a tall man."
Going over several such scenes, Ruth could remember nothing in hismanner but a sort of invigorating, friendly bluntness, totally atvariance with the peculiarities of the "lady's man" that Louis hadinsinuated he was accounted. She resolved to scrutinize him morenarrowly the next morning.
Mrs. Levice's room was handsomely furnished and daintily appointed.Even from her pillows she would have detected any lapse in its exquisiteneatness, and one of Ruth's duties was to leave none to be detected.The house was large; and with three servants the young girl had to do agreat deal of supervising. She took a natural pride in having things goas smoothly as under her mother's administration; and Mr. Levice said itwas well his wife had laid herself on the shelf, as the new broom was avast improvement.
Ruth had given the last touches to her mother's dark hair, and wasreading aloud the few unexciting items one finds in the morning's paper.Mrs. Levice, propped almost to a sitting position by many downy pillows,polished her nails and half listened. Her cheeks were no longer brightlyflushed, but rather pale; the expression of her eyes was placid, and herslight hand quite firm; the strain lifted from her, a great wearinesshad taken its place. The sweet morning air came in unrestrained at theopen window.
Ruth's reading was interrupted by the entrance of the maid, carrying adainty basket of Duchesse roses.
"For Madame," she said, handing it to Ruth, who came forward to take it.
"Read the card yourself," she said, placing it in her mother's hand asthe girl retired. A pleased smile broke over Mrs. Levice's face; sheburied her face in the roses, and then opened the envelope.
"From Louis!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Poor fellow! he was dreadfullyupset when he came in. He did not say much, but his look and hand-shakewere enough as he bent to kiss me. Do you know, Ruth, I think our Louishas a very loving disposition?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Yes. One would not think so, judging from his manner; but I know him tobe unusually sympathetic for a man. I would sooner have him for a friendthan many a woman; he has not many equals among the young men I know.Don't you agree with me, girlie?"
"Oh, yes; I always liked Louis."
"How coldly you say that! And, by the way, it struck me as very queerlast night that you did not kiss him after his absence of a week. Sincewhen has this formal hand-shake come into use?"
A slight flush crimsoned Ruth's cheek.
"It is not my fault," she said, smiling; "I always kissed Louis evenafter a day's absence. But some few months ago he inaugurated the newregime, and holds me at arm's length. I can't ask him why, when he looksat me so matter-of-factly through his eyeglass, can I?"
"No; certainly not." A slight frown marred the complacency of Mrs.Levice's brow. Such actions were not at all in accordance with herdarling plan. Arnold was much to her; but she wished him to be more.This was a side-track upon which she had not wished her train to move.
Her cogitations took a turn when she heard a quick, firm footfall in thehall.
Ruth anticipated the knock, and opened the door to the doctor.
Bowing slightly to her, he advanced rather hurriedly to the bedside. Hehad not taken off his gloves, and a certain air of purposeful gravityreplaced his usual leisurely manner.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Levice," he said, taking her hand in his, andlooking searchingly down at her. "How are you feeling this morning? Anystarts or shakes of any sort?"
"No; I am beginning to feel as impassive and stupid as a well-fedanimal. Won't you sit down, Doctor?"
"No; I have a consultation in a very short time. Keep right on as youhave been doing. I do not think it will be necessary for me to call forseveral days now; probably not before Friday."
"And to-day is Tuesday! Am I to see no one till then?"
"No one but those you have seen. Pray do not complain, Mrs. Levice,"he continued rather sternly. "You are a very fortunate invalid; illnesswith you is cushioned in every conceivable corner. I wish I could makeyou divide some of your blessings. As I cannot, I wish you to appreciatethem as they deserve. Do not come down, Miss Levice," as she moved tofollow him; "I am in a great hurry. Good-morning."
"How harassed he looked! I wonder who is his patient!" observed Mrs.Levice, as Ruth quietly returned to her seat. A sunbeam fell aslant thegirl's preoccupied face. The doctor's few words had given her food forthought.
When later on she remembered how she was going to disprove for herselfLouis's allegations, she wondered if he could have found anything tomock at, had he been present, in Kemp's abrupt visit of the morning.