by Emma Wolf
Chapter XXVII
"I thought you would be quiet at this hour," said Rose Delano, seatingherself opposite her friend in the library, the Thursday evening afterthe funeral. They looked so different even in the waning light,--Ruthin soft black, her white face shining like a lily above her sombre gown,Rose, like a bright firefly, perched on a cricket, her cheeks rosy, hereyes sparkling from walking against the sharp, cold wind.
"We are always quiet now," she answered softly; "friends come and go,but we are very quiet. It does me good to see you, Rosebud."
"Does it?" her sweet eyes smiled happily. "I was longing to drop in ifonly to hold your hand for a minute; but I did not know exactly where tofind you."
"Why, where could I be but here?"
"I thought possibly you had removed to your husband's home."
For a second Ruth looked at her wonderingly; then the slow rich colormounted, inch by inch, back to her little ears till her face was onerosy cloud.
"No; I have stayed right on."
"I saw the doctor to-day," she chatted. "He looks pale; is he too busy?"
"I do not know,--that is, I suppose so. How are the lessons, Rose?"
"Everything is improving wonderfully; I am so happy, dear Mrs. Kemp, andwhat I wished to say was that all happiness and all blessings should, Ipray, fall on you two who have been so much to me. Miss Gwynne told methat to do good was your birthright. She said that the funeral, with itsvast gathering of friends, rich, poor, old, young, strong, and crippledof all grades of society, was a revelation of his life even to those whothought they knew him best. You should feel very proud with such sweetmemories."
"Yes," assented Ruth, her eyes quickly suffused with tears.
They sat quietly thus for some time, till Rose, rising from her cricket,kissed her friend silently and departed.
The waning light fell softly through the lace curtains, printing quaintarabesques on the walls and furniture and bathing the room in a richyellow light. A carriage rolled up in front of the house. Dr. Kemphanded the reins to his man and alighted. He walked slowly up to thedoor. It was very still about the house in the evening twilight. Hepushed his hat back on his head and looked up at the clear blue sky,as if the keen breeze were pleasant to his temples. Then with a quickmotion, as though recalling his thoughts, he turned and rang the bell.The latchkey of the householder was not his.
Ruth, sitting in the shadows, had scarcely heard the ring. She wasabsorbed in a new train of thought. Rose Delano was the first one whohad clearly brought home to her the thought that she was really married.She had been very quiet with her other friends, and every one, lookingat her grief-stricken face, had shrunk from mentioning what would havecalled for congratulation. Rose, who knew only these two, naturallydwelt on their changed relations. Her husband! Her dormant love gavean exultant bound. Wave upon wave of emotion beat upon her heart; shesprang to her feet; the door opened, and he came in. He saw her standingfaintly outlined in the dark.
"Good-evening," he said, coming slowly toward her with extended hand;"have you been quite well to-day?" He felt her fingers tremble inhis close clasp, and let them fall slowly. "Bob sent you these earlyviolets. Shall I light the gas?"
"If you will."
He turned from her and rapidly filled the room with light.
"Where is your mother?" he asked, turning toward her again. Her face washidden in the violets.
"Upstairs with Louis. They had something to arrange. Did you wish to seeher?" To judge from Ruth's manner, Kemp might have been a visitor.
"No," he replied. "If you will sit down, we can talk quietly till theycome in."
As she resumed her high-backed chair and he seated himself in anotherbefore her, he was instantly struck by some new change in her face. Thefaraway, impersonal look with which she had met him in these sad dayshad been what he had expected, and he had curbed with a strong willevery impulse for any closer recognition. But this new look,--what didit mean? In the effort to appear unconcerned the dark color had risen tohis own cheeks.
"I had quite a pleasant little encounter to-day," he observed; "shall Itell it to you?"
"If it will not tire you."
Keeping his eyes fixed on the picture over her head, he did not see thelook of anxious love that dwelt in her eyes as they swept over him.
"Oh, no," he responded, slightly smiling over the recollection. "I wascoming down my office steps this afternoon, and had just reached thefoot, when a bright-faced, bright-haired boy stood before me with aneager light in his eyes. 'Aren't you Dr. Kemp?' he asked breathlessly,like one who had been running. I recollected him the instant he raisedhis hat from his nimbus of golden hair. 'Yes; and you are Will Tyrrell,'I answered promptly. 'Why, how did you remember?' he asked in surprise;'you saw me only once.' 'Never mind; I remember that night,' I answered.'How is that baby sister of yours?' 'Oh, she's all right,' he replieddismissing the subject with the royalty that brotherhood confers. 'Isay, do you ever see Miss Levice nowadays?' I looked at him with ahalf-smile, not knowing whether to set him right or not, when he finallyblurted out, 'She's the finest girl I ever met. Do you know her well,Doctor?' 'Well,' I answered, 'I know her slightly,--she is my wife.'"
He had told the little incident brightly; but as he came to the end, hisvoice gradually lowered, and as he pronounced the last word, his eyessought hers. Her eyelids fluttered; her breath seemed suspended.
"I said you were my wife," he repeated softly, leaning forward, hishands grasping the chair-arms.
"And what," asked Ruth, a little excited ring in her voice,--"what didWill say?"
"Who cared?" he asked, quickly moving closer to her; "do you?" He caughther hand in his, scarce knowing what he said, and interlaced his fingerswith hers.
"Ruth," he asked below his breath, "have you forgotten entirely what weare to each other?"
It was such a cruel lover's act to make her face him thus, her bosompanting, her face changing from white to red and from red to white.
"Have you, sweet love?" he insisted.
"No," she whispered, trying to turn her head from him.
"No, who?"
With an irrepressible movement she sprang up, pushing his hand fromhers. He rose also, his face pale and disturbed, and indescribable fearoverpowering him.
"You mean," he said quietly, "that you no longer love me,--say it nowand have it over."
"Oh," she cried in exquisite pain, "why do you tantalize me so--can'tyou see that--"
She looked so beautiful thus confessed that with sudden ecstacy he drewher to him and pressed his lips in one long kiss to hers.
A little later Mrs. Levice and Louis came down. Mrs. Levice enteredfirst and stood still; Louis, looking over her shoulder, sawtoo--nothing but Ruth standing encircled by her husband's arm; herlovely face smiled into his, which looked down at her with an expressionthat drove every drop of blood from Arnold's face. For a moment theywere unseen; but when Ruth, who was the first to feel their presence,started from Kemp as if she had committed a crime, Arnold came forwardentirely at his ease.
Kemp met Mrs. Levice with outstretched hands and smiling eyes.
"Good-evening, Mother," he said; "we had just been speaking of you."Mrs. Levice looked into his deep, tender eyes, and raising her arm, drewhis head down and kissed him.
Ruth had rolled forward a comfortable chair, and stood beside it withshy, sweet look as her mother sat down and drew her down beside her.Sorrow had softened Mrs. Levice wonderfully; and looking for love, shewooed everybody by her manner.
"What were you saying of me?" she asked, keeping Ruth's hand in hersand looking up at Kemp, who leaned against the mantel-shelf, his faceradiant with gladness.
"We were saying that it will do you good to come out of this great houseto our little one, till we find something better."
Mrs. Levice looked across at Louis, who stood at the piano, his backhalf turned, looking over a book.
"It is very sweet to be wanted by you all now," she said, hervoice trembling slightly; "but I
never could leave this house tostrangers,--every room is too full of old associations, and sweetmemories of him. Louis wants me to go down the coast with him soon,stopping for a month or so at Coronado. Go to your cottage meanwhile byyourselves; even I should be an intruder. There, Ruth, don't I know? Andwhen we come back, we shall see. It is all settled, isn't it, Louis?"
He turned around then.
"Yes, I feel that I need a change of scene, and I should like to haveher with me; you do not need her now."
Ruth looked at his careworn face, and said with tender solicitude,--
"You are right, Louis."
And so it was decided.