Other Things Being Equal

by Emma Wolf

  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 waspartially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice.If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgottenin the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he hadspoken a few disturbing words to her:

  "I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certainproject 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. Hewas regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.

  "Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" shequestioned, her voice slightly trembling.

  "Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calmreasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what Itold you to consider, Ruth?"

  "No, Father."

  She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt inchildhood, when, in taking her to task for some naughtiness, he had wornthis same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; thepain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimandnever 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 colorwas upon her.

  A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighteddrawing-room and waited for Kemp.

  When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck himimmediately.

  She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had someold-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first ofall to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush roseslowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught herswiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.

  "What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are youtired 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 flownbodily 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 yourexit on his entrance."

  "No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the role of the audienceto-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ--"

  He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greetedhim settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew itquickly to his breast.

  "I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at anyrate on the main point,--that we love each other. Always that, darling?"

  "Always that--love."

  The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilledhim oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth movedlike a bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step hadgiven her the momentary courage thus to address him.

  He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed astriking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow;Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silveryhair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, servedas a foil to the other's bright, handsome figure.

  Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is morethoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is afreemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is asign of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise.Levice's hand closed tightly about the doctor's large one; there was agreat feeling of mutual respect between these two.

  "How are you and your wife?" asked the doctor, seating himself in a low,silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.

  "She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed. She wishedto be remembered to you." As he spoke, he half turned his head to whereRuth sat in a corner, a little removed.

  "Why do you sit back there, Ruth?"

  She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up thecurious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of anisosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles ofthe base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking eachpoint an alien from the others.

  There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seatedherself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from thesconce behind fell upon her father's head, each silvery hair seemed tospeak of quiet old age.

  Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.

  "Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bushthe thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, inperson, what I asked you in writing last Friday,--will you give me yourdaughter to be my wife?"

  "I will answer you as I did in writing. Have you considered that you area Christian; that she is a Jewess?"

  "I have."

  It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.

  "And you, my child?" he addressed her in the old sweet way that she hadmissed in the afternoon.

  "I have also done so to the best of my ability."

  "Then you have found it raised no barrier to your desire to become Dr.Kemp's wife?"

  "None."

  The two men drew a deep breath at the sound of the little decisive word,but with a difference. Kemp's face shone exultantly. Levice pressed hislips hard together as the shuddering breath left him; his heavy-veinedhands were tightly clinched; when he spoke, however, his voice was quitepeaceful.

  "It is an old and just custom for parents to be consulted by theirchildren upon their choice of husband or wife. In France the parents areconsulted before the daughter; it is not a bad plan. It often saves someunnecessary pangs--for the daughter. I am sorry in this case that we arenot living in France."

  "Then you object?" Kemp almost hurled the words at him.

  "I crave your patience," answered the old man, slowly; "I have grownaccustomed to doing things deliberately, and will not be hurried in thisinstance. But as you have put the question, I may answer you now. I domost solemnly and seriously object."

  Ruth, sitting intently listening to her father, paled slowly. The doctoralso changed color.

  "My child," Levice continued, looking her sadly in the face, "byallowing you to fall blindly into this trouble, without warning, with myapparent sanction for any relationship with Christians, I have done youa great wrong; I admit it with anguish. I ask your forgiveness."

  "Don't, Father!"

  Dr. Kemp's clinched hand came down with force upon his knee. Hewas white to the lips, for though Levice spoke so quietly, a strongdecisiveness rang unmistakably in every word.

  "Mr. Levice, I trust I am not speaking disrespectfully," he began,his manly voice plainly agitated, "but I must say that it was a greatoversight on your part when you threw your daughter, equipped as sheis, into Christian society,--put her right in the way of loving or beingloved by any Christian, knowing all along that such a state of affairscould lead to nothing. It was not only wrong, but, holding such views,it was cruel."

  "I acknowledge my culpability; my only excuse lies in the fact that suchan event never presented itself as a possibility to my imagination. Ifit had, I should probably have trusted that her own Jewish conscienceand bringing-up would protest against her allowing herself to thinkseriously upon such an issue."

  "But, sir, I do not understand your exception; you are not orthodox."

  "No; but I am intensely Jewish," answered the old man, proudly regardinghis antagonist. "I tell you I object to this marriage; that is notsaying I oppose it. There are certain things connected with it ofwhich neither you nor my daughter have probably thought. To me theyare all-powerful obstacles to y
our happiness. Being an old man and moreexperienced, will you permit me to suggest these points? My friend, Iam seeking nothing but my child's happiness; if, by opening the eyesof both of you to what menaces her future welfare, I can avert whatpromises but a sometime misery, I must do it, late though it may be. If,when I have stated my view, you can convince me that I am wrong, I shallbe persuaded and admit it. Will you accept my plan?"

  Kemp bowed his head. The dogged earnestness about his mouth and eyesdeepened; he kept his gaze steadily and attentively fixed upon Levice.Ruth, who was the cause of the whole painful scene, seemed remote andshadowy.

  "As you say," began Levice, "we are not orthodox; but before we becomeorthodox or reform, we are born, and being born, we are invested withcertain hereditary traits that are unconvertible. Every Jew bears in hisblood the glory, the triumph, the misery, the abjectness of Israel. Thefarther we move in the generations, the fainter grown the inheritance.In most countries in these times the abjectness is vanishing; we havebeen set upon our feet; we have been allowed to walk; we are beginningto smile,--that is, some of us. Those whose fathers were helped onare nearer the man as he should be than those whose fathers are stillgrovelling. My child, I think, stands a perfect type of what culture andrefinement can give. She is not an exception; there are thousands likeher among our Jewish girls. Take any intrinsically pure-souled Jew fromhis coarser surroundings and give him the highest advantages, and hewill stand forth the equal, at least, of any man; but he could not mixforever with pitch and remain undefiled."

  "No man could," observed Kemp, as Levice paused. "But what are thesethings to me?"

  "Nothing; but to Ruth, much. That is part of the bar-sinister betweenyou. Possibly your sense of refinement has never been offended in myfamily; but there are many families, people we visit and love, who,though possessing all the substrata of goodness, have never been movedto cast off the surface thorns that would prick your good taste assharply as any physical pain. This, of course, is not because they areJews, but because they lack refining influences in their surroundings.We look for and excuse these signs; many Christians take them as theinevitable marks of the race, and without looking further, conclude thata cultured Jew is an impossibility."

  "Mr. Levice, I am but an atom in the Christian world, and you whonumber so many of them among your friends should not make such sweepingassertions. The world is narrow-minded; individuals are broader."

  "True; but I speak of the majority, who decide the vote, and by whom mychild would be, without doubt, ostracized. This only by your people; byours it would be worse,--for she will have raised a terrible barrier byrenouncing her religion."

  "I shall never renounce my religion, Father."

  "Such a marriage would mean only that to the world; and so you would becut adrift from both sides, as all women are who move from where theyrightfully belong to where they are not wanted."

  "Sir," interrupted Kemp, "allow me to show you wherein such a state ofaffairs would, if it should happen, be of no consequence. The friends wecare for and who care for us will not drop off if we remain unchanged.Because I love your daughter and she loves me, and because we bothdesire our love to be honored in the sight of God and man, wherein havewe erred? We shall still remain the same man and woman."

  "Unhappily the world would not think so."

  "Then let them hold to their bigoted opinion; it is valueless, andhaving each other, we can dispense with them."

  "You speak in the heat of passion; and at such a time it would beimpossible to make you understand the honeymoon of life is made up ofmore than two, and a third being inimical can make it wretched. Theknowledge that people we respect hold aloof from us is bitter."

  "But such knowledge," interrupted Ruth's sweet voice, "would be robbedof all bitterness when surrounded and hedged in by all that we love."

  Her father looked in surprise at the brave face raised so earnestly tohis.

  "Very well," he responded; "count the world as nothing. You have justsaid, my Ruth, that you would not renounce your religion. How could thatbe when you have a Christian husband who would not renounce his?"

  "I should hope he would not; I should have little respect for any manwho would give up his sacred convictions because I have come into hislife. As for my religion, I am a Jewess, and will die one. My God isfixed and unalterable; he is one and indivisible; to divide his divinitywould be to deny his omnipotence. As to forms, you, Father, have bred inme a contempt for all but a few. Saturday will always be my Sabbath, nomatter what convention would make me do. We have decided that writingor sewing or pleasuring, since it hurts no one, is no more a sin on thatday than on another; to sit with idle hands and gossip or slander ismore so. But on that day my heart always holds its Sabbath; this is theforce of custom. Any day would do as well if we were used to it,--forwho can tell which was the first and which the seventh counting fromcreation? On our New Year I should still feel that a holy cycle of timehad passed; but I live only according to one record of time, and my NewYear falls always on the 1st of January. Atonement is a sacred day tome; I could not desecrate it. Our services are magnificently beautiful,and I should feel like a culprit if debarred from their holiness. As tofasting, you and I have agreed that any physical punishment that keepsour thoughts one moment from God, and puts them on the feast that is tocome, is mere sham and pretence. After these, Father, wherein does ourreligion show itself?"

  "Surely," he replied with some bitterness, "we hold few Jewish rites.Well, and so you think you can keep these up? And you, Dr. Kemp?"

  Dr. Kemp had been listening attentively while Ruth spoke. His eyeskindled brightly as he answered,--

  "Why should she not? If all her orisons have made her as beautiful, bodyand soul, as she is to me, what is to prevent her from so continuing?And if my wife would permit me to go with her upon her holidays to yourbeautiful Temple, no one would listen more reverently than I. Lovingher, what she finds worshipful could find nothing but respect in me."

  Plainly Mr. Levice had forgotten the wellspring that was to enrich theirlives; but he perceived that some impregnable armor encased them thatmade every shot of his harmless.

  "I can understand," he ventured, "that no gentleman with self-respectwould, at least outwardly, show disrespect for any person's religion.You, Doctor, might even come to regard with awe a faith that haswithstood everything and has never yet been sneered at, however itsfollowers have been persecuted. Many of its minor forms are slowly dyingout and will soon be remembered only historically; this history belongsto every one."

  "Certainly. Let us, however, stick to the point in question. You are aman who has absorbed the essence of his religion, and cast off mostof its unnecessary externals. You have done the same for my--for yourdaughter. This distinguishes you. If I were to say the characteristichas never been unbeautiful in my eyes, I should be excusing what needsno excuse. Now, sir, I, in turn, am a Christian broadly speaking; moreformally, a Unitarian. Our faiths are not widely divergent. We are bothliberal; otherwise marriage between us might be a grave experiment. Asto forms, for me they are a show, but for many they are a necessity,--asort of moral backbone without which they might fall. Sunday is to me aday of rest if my patients do not need me. I enjoy hearing a good sermonby any noble, broad-minded man, and go to church not only for that,but for the pleasure of having my spiritual tendencies given a gentlestirring up. There is one holiday that I keep and love to keep; that isChristmas."

  "And I honor you for it; but loving this day of days, looking forsympathy for it from all you meet, how will it be when in your own homethe wife whom you love above all others stands coldly by and watchesyour feelings with no answering sympathy? Will this not breeddissension, if not in words, at least in spirit? Will you not feel thewant and resent it?"

  Dr. Kemp was silent. The question was a telling one and requiredthought; therefore he was surprised when Ruth answered for him. Herquiet voice carried no sense of hysteric emotion, but one of gravegrace.

  She addressed her father
; each had refrained from appealing to theother. The situation in the light of their new, great love was strainedand unnatural.

  "I should endeavor that he should feel no lack," she said; "for so faras Christmas is concerned, I am a Christian also."

  "I do not understand." Her father's lips were dry, his voice husky.

  "Ever since I have been able to judge," explained the girl, quietly,"Christ has been to me the loveliest and one of the best men that everlived. You yourself, Father, admire and reverence his life."

  "Yes?" His eyes were half closed as if in pain; he motioned to her tocontinue.

  "And so, in our study, he was never anything but what was great andgood. Later, when I had read his 'Sermon on the Mount,' I grew to seethat what he preached was beautiful. It did not change my religion; itmade me no less a Jewess in the true sense, but helped me to gentleness.To me he became the embodiment of Love in the highest,--Love perfect,but warm and human; human Love so glorious that it needs no divinityto augment its power over us. He was God's attestation, God's symbol ofwhat Man might be. As a teacher of brotherly love, he is sublime. So Imay call myself a christian, though I spell it with a small letter. Itis right that such a man's birthday should be remembered with love; itshows what a sweet power his name is, when, as that time approaches,everybody seems to love everybody better. Feeling so, would it be wrongfor me to participate in my husband's actions on that day?"

  She received no answer. She looked only at her father with lovingearnestness, and the look of adoration Kemp bent upon her was quitelost.

  "Would this be wrong, Father?" she urged.

  He straightened himself in his chair as if under a load. His dark,sallow face seemed to have grown worn and more haggard.

  "I have always imagined myself just and liberal in opinion," heresponded; "I have sought to make you so. I never thought you could leapthus far. It were better had I left you to your mother. Wrong? No;you would be but giving your real feelings expression. But such anexpression would grieve--Pardon; I am to consider your happiness." Heseemed to swallow something, and hastily continued: "While we are stillon this subject, are you aware, my child, that you could not be marriedby a Jewish rabbi?"

  She started perceptibly.

  "I should love to be married by Doctor C----." As she pronounced thegrand old rabbi's name, a tone of reverential love accompanied it.

  "I know. But you would have to take a justice as a substitute."

  "A Unitarian minister would be breaking no law in uniting us, and Ithink would not object to do so; that is, of course, if you had noobjection." The doctor looked at him questioningly. Levice answered byturning to Ruth. She passed her hand over her forehead.

  "Do you think," she asked, "that after a ceremony had been performed,Dr. C---- would bless us? As a friend, would he have to refuse?"

  "He would be openly sanctioning a marriage which according to therabbinical law is no marriage at all. Do you think he would do this,notwithstanding his friendship for you?" returned her father. They bothlooked at him intently.

  "Ah, well," she answered, throwing back her head, a half-smile coming toher pale lips, "it is but a sentiment, and I could forego it, I suppose.One must give up little things sometimes for great."

  "Yes; and this would be but the first. My children, there is somethingradically wrong when we have to overlook and excuse so much beforemarriage. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' and why shouldwe add trouble to days already burdened before they come?"

  "We should find all this no trouble," said Kemp; "and what is to troubleus after? We have now the wherewithal for our happiness; what, in God'sname, do you ask for more?"

  "As I have said, Dr. Kemp, we are an earnest people. Marriage is a stepnot entered into lightly. Divorce, for this reason, is seldom heardof with us, and for this reason we have few unhappy marriages. We knowbeforehand what we have to expect from every quarter. No question Ihave put would be necessary with a Jew. His ways are ours, and, with fewexceptions, a woman has nothing but happiness to expect from him. How amI sure of this with you? In a moment of anger this difference of faithmay be flung in each other's teeth, and what then?"

  "You mean you cannot trust me."

  The quiet, forceful words were accompanied by no sign of emotion. Hisdeep eyes rested as respectfully as ever upon the old gentleman's face.But the attack was a hard one upon Levice. A vein on his temple spranginto blue prominence as he quickly considered his answer.

  "I trust you, sir, as one gentleman would trust another in anyundertaking; but I have not the same knowledge of what to expect fromyou as I should have from any Jew who would ask for my daughter's hand."

  "I understand that," admitted the other; "but a few minutes ago youimputed a possibility to me that would be an impossibility to anygentleman. You may have heard of such happenings among some, but anevent of that kind would be as removed from us as the meeting of thepoles. Everything depends on the parties concerned."

  "Besides, Father," added Ruth, her sweet voice full with feeling, "whenone loves greatly, one is great through love. Can true married love everbe divided and sink to this?"

  The little white and gold clock ticked on; it was the only sound.Levice's forehead rested upon his hand over which his silvery hair hung.Kemp's strong face was as calm as a block of granite; Ruth's was palewith thought.

  Suddenly the old man threw back his head. They both started at therevelation: great dark rings were about his eyes; his mouth was set in astrained smile.

  "I--I," he cleared his throat as if something impeded his utterance,--"Ihave one last suggestion to make. You may have children. What will betheir religion?"

  The little clock ticked on; a dark hue overspread Kemp's face. As forthe girl, she scarcely seemed to hear; her eyes were riveted upon herfather's changed face.

  "Well?"

  The doctor gave one quick glance at Ruth and answered,--

  "If God should so bless us, I think the simple religion of love enoughfor childhood. Later, as their judgment ripened, I should let themchoose for themselves, as all should be allowed."

  "And you, my Ruth?"

  A shudder shook her frame; she answered mechanically,--

  "I should be guided by my husband."

  The little clock ticked on, backward and forward, and forward and back,dully reiterating, "Time flies, time flies."

  "I have quite finished," said Levice, rising.

  Kemp did likewise.

  "After all," he said deferentially, "you have not answered my question."

  "I--think--I--have," replied the old man, slowly. "But to what questiondo you refer?"

  "The simple one,--will you give me your daughter?"

  "No, sir; I will not."

  Kemp drew himself up, bowed low, and stood waiting some further word,his face ashy white. Levice's lips trembled nervously, and then he spokein a gentle, restrained way, half apologetically and in strange contrastto his former violence.

  "You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old,holds with me in this. I do not know how wildly she would take such aproposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shallnot oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place mybeliefs as an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it isshe who will have to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have beenfriends; outside of this one great difference there is no man to whom Iwould more gladly trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentlemanwho has honored my child in his love for her. If I have hurt you inthese bitter words, forgive me; as my daughter's husband, we must bemore than friends."

  He held out his hand. The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,made answer somewhat confusedly,--

  "Mr. Levice, I thank you. I can say no more now, except that no soncould love and honor you more than I shall."

  Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,looking straight ahead of her.

  "My darling," said her father, softly laying his hand on her head andr
aising her lovely face, "if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trustme, dear, it was through no lack of love for you. Do not consider me;forget, if you will, all I have said. You are better able, perhaps, thanI to judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if afterall this thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him.You know that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give youto him, I shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; youcan pass through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl."

  His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped andkissed her. He wrung the doctor's hand again in passing, and abruptlyturned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruthfollowed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the oldman passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into placebehind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.