Other Things Being Equal, Page 2

  Chapter II

  "This is what I call a worldly paradise!" A girl with a face like dearLady Disdain's sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her voicechimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the softstrains of remote stringed instruments.

  "Is it a frivolous conceit?" she continued, laughing up to the man whostood beside her; "or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also thatsuch a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?"

  "You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothingcan be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full ofguests."

  "And leaving out the guests?"

  "They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given thenecessary contingencies."

  "A solitude of two who love? Dr. Kemp, methinks you are a romantic."

  "You supplied the romance, Miss Gwynne. My knowledge is of the hard,matter-of-fact sort."

  "Such as bones, I suppose. Still you seem to be interested in thesoft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet."

  "Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy's definition of avacuum,--a large space with nothing in it. Who is he?"

  "And I thought you not unknown! He is the husband of a brilliant woman,Mrs. Ames, who has written a novel."

  "Clever?"

  "Decidedly so; it stands the test of being intoxicating and leaving abad taste in the mouth,--like dry champagne."

  "Which is not made for women."

  "You mean school-girls. There she is,--that wisp of a creature listeningso eagerly to that elegant youth of the terrier breed. No wonder heinterests her; he is as full of information in piquant personal historyas a family lawyer, and his knowledge is as much public property as asocial city directory."

  "You have studied him to advantage. Are you sure you have not stolen aleaf from him?"

  "Dr. Kemp!" she exclaimed in pouting reproach, "do I appear aspromiscuous as that? You may call me a 'blue book,' but spare mysnobbery the opprobrious epithet of 'directory.' There goes thefascinating young Mrs. Shurly with Purcell Burroughs in her toils. Didyou catch the fine oratory of the glance she threw us? It said, 'DorothyGwynne, how dare you appropriate Dr. Kemp for ten long minutes? Hand himover; pass him around. I want him; you are only boring him, though youseem to be amusing yourself."

  Kemp's grave lips twitched at the corners; he was without doubt amused.

  "Aren't you improvising?" he asked. A man need only offer an occasionalbumper of a remark to keep the conversation from flagging, when hiscompanion is a woman.

  "No; you evidently do not know what a feminine sneer is in words. Ah,here comes the Queen of Sheba." She broke off with a pleased smile asRuth Levice approached on the arm of her cousin, Louis Arnold.

  Singly, each would have attracted attention anywhere; together theywere doubly striking-looking. Arnold, tall and slight, carrying hishead high, fair of complexion as a peachy-cheeked girl, was a peculiarlydistinguished-looking man. The delicate pince-nez he wore emphasizedslightly the elusive air of supercilious courtliness he always conveyed.Now, as he spoke to Ruth, who, although a tall girl, was some inchesshorter than he, he maintained a strict perpendicular from the crownof his head to his heels, only looking down with his eyes. Short womenresented this trick of his, protesting that it made them stand on tiptoeto speak to him.

  There was something almost Oriental about Ruth, with her creamy,colorless face, like a magnolia blossom; her dusky hair was looselyrolled from her forehead and temples; her eyes were soft and brownbeneath delicately pencilled brows, and matched the pure oval of herface. But the languorous air of Southern skies was wholly wanting in thesweet sympathy of her glance, and in a certain alertness about the poiseof her head.

  Arnold stopped perforce at Miss Gwynne's slight signal.

  "Where are you hastening?" she asked as they turned to greet her. "Onewould think you saw your Nemesis before you, so oblivious were you tothe beauties scattered about." She looked up pertly at Arnold, aftergiving one comprehensive glance over Ruth's toilet.

  "We both wished to see the orchids of which one hears," he answered,with pronounced French accent and idiom; adding, with a slight smile, "Idid not overlook you, but you were so busily contemplating other groundthat it would have been cruelty to disturb you." He spoke the languageslowly, as a stranger upon foreign ground.

  "Oh, yes; I forgot. Dr. Kemp, are you acquainted with the Queen of Shebaand her doughty knight Louis, surnamed Arnold?" She paused a moment asthe parties acknowledged the curious introduction, and then broke inrather breathlessly: "There, Doctor, I shall leave you with royalty; donot let your republican ignorance forget her proper title. Mr. Arnold,Mrs. Merrill is beckoning to us; will you come?" and with a naive,superbly impish look at Ruth, she drew Arnold away before he couldmurmur an excuse.

  At the impertinent words the soft, rich blood suffused Ruth's face.

  "Will you sit here awhile and wait for Mr. Arnold, or shall we go andsee the orchids?" The pleasant, deep voice broke in upon her confusionand calmed her self-consciousness. She raised her eyes to the dark,clever face above her; it was a strong, rather than a handsome face.From the broad sweep of the forehead above the steady scrutiny of thegray eyes, to the grave lip and firm chin under the dark, pointed beard,strength and gentleness spoke in every line. His personality bore thestamp of a letter of credit.

  "Thank you," said she; "I think I shall sit here. My cousin willprobably be back soon."

  The doctor seated himself beside her. Miss Gwynne's appellation wasnot inaptly chosen, still he would have preferred to know her moreconventional title.

  "This is a peaceful little corner," he said. "Do you notice how removedit seems from the rest of the room?"

  "Yes," she answered, meeting and disconcerting his pleasantlyquestioning look with one of swift resolve. "Dr. Kemp, I wish to tellyou that my father has confided to me your joint secret."

  "Your father?" he looked bewildered; his knowledge of the Queen ofSheba's progenitors was vague.

  "My father, yes," she repeated, smiling at his perplexity. "Our name isnot very common; I am Jules Levice's daughter."

  He was about to exclaim "NO!" The kinship seemed ridiculous in the faceof this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-facedJew. What he did say was,--

  "Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine. He is present, is he not?"

  "Yes. Have you met my mother yet?"

  The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of thisbeautiful face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones heldan uncommon charm.

  "No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before theevening is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the 'shop' whichI have of a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seenany signs of illness in your mother?"

  "No; I have been very blind and selfish," she replied, somewhatbitterly, "for every one but me seems to have seen that something waswrong. She has been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fearhas been burning the candle at both ends for my light. I wish I hadknown--probably it lay just within my hand to prevent this, instead ofleading her on by my often expressed delight. What I wish to ask youis that if you find anything serious, you will tell me, and allay myfather's fears as much as possible. Please do this for me. My father isnot young; and I, I think, am trustworthy."

  She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking hercompanion full in the face.

  The doctor quietly scrutinized the earnest young face before heanswered. Then he slightly bowed in acquiescence.

  "That is a pact," he said lightly; "but in all probability your father'sfears are exaggerated."

  "'Where love is great, the smallest doubts are fears,'" she quoted,softly flushing. The doctor had a singular impersonal habit of keepinghis eyes intently bent upon the person with whom he conversed, that madehis companion feel that they two were exclusively alone,--a sensationthat
was slightly bewildering upon first acquaintance. By and by oneunderstood that it was merely his air of interest that evoked thefeeling, and so gradually got used to it as to one of his features.

  "That is so," he replied cheerily; "and--I see some one is about toplay. Mrs. Merrill told me we should have some music."

  "It is Louis, I think; I know his touch."

  "Your cousin? He plays?"

  Ruth looked at him in questioning wonder. Truth to say, the doctor couldnot but betray his surprise at the idea of the cold-looking Arnoldin the light of a musician; his doubts took instant flight after theopening chords. Rubenstein's Melody in F, played by a master-hand, isone long sound of divine ecstasy thrilling the listener to exquisiterapture. Played by Louis Arnold, what the composer had conceived inhis soul was magnificently interpreted. As he finished, there was not amurmur; and the next minute he had dashed into a quaint tarantelle thatinstantly dispelled the former spell of grandeur.

  "An artist," said some one standing near.

  "Something more," murmured Kemp, rising as he saw Ruth do so. He wasabout to offer her his arm when Mrs. Merrill, a gently-faced woman,stepped up to them, and laying her hand upon Ruth's shoulder, saidrather hurriedly,--

  "I am sorry to trouble you, Doctor, but Mrs. Levice--do not be alarmed,Ruth dear--has become somewhat hysterical, and we cannot calm her; willyou come this way, please, and no one need know she is in the study."

  "My family is making itself prominent to-night," said Ruth, with alittle catch in her voice, as they turned with Mrs. Merrill through theconservatory and so across the hall.

  "I shall be here, Doctor, if you wish anything," said Mrs. Merrill,standing without as he and Ruth entered and immediately shut the doorafter them.

  "Stay there," he said with quiet authority to Ruth, and she stood quitestill where he left her. Mrs. Levice was seated in a large easy-chairwith her back to the door; her husband had drawn her head to his bosom.There was no one else in the room, and for a second not a sound, tillMrs. Levice began to sob in a frightened manner.

  "It's nothing at all, Jules," she cried, trying to laugh and failinglamentably; "I--I'm only silly."

  "There, dear, don't talk." Levice's face was white as he soothinglystroked her hair.

  "Oh!"

  The doctor stepped in front of them, and laying both hands upon hershoulders, motioned Levice aside.

  "Hush! Not a word!"

  At the sound of his stern, brusque voice, the long quivering shriekstopped halfway.

  "Be perfectly still," he continued, holding her firmly. "Obey thisinstant," as she began to whimper; "not a sound must I hear."

  Ruth and her father stood spell-bound at the effect of the stranger'smeasures. For a moment Mrs. Levice had started in affright to scream;but the deep, commanding tone, the powerful hands upon her shoulders,the impressive, unswerving eye that held hers, soon began to act almosthypnotically. The sobbing gradually ceased; the shaking limbs slowlyregained their calm; and as she sank upon the cushions the strained lookin her eyes melted. She was feebly smiling up at the doctor in responseto his own persuasive smile that gradually succeeded the gravity of hiscountenance.

  "That is well," said he, speaking soothingly as to a child, and stillkeeping his smiling eyes upon hers. "Now just close your eyes for aminute; see, I have your hand,--so. Go to sleep."

  There was not a sound in the room; Ruth stood where she had been placed,and Mr. Levice was behind the doctor, his face quite colorless, scarcelydaring to breathe. Finally the faint, even breathing of Mrs. Levice toldthat she slept.

  Kemp turned to Mr. Levice and spoke low, not in a whisper, whichhisses, but his voice was so hushed that it would not have disturbed thelightest sleeper.

  "Put your hand, palm up, under hers. I am going to withdraw my hand andretire, as I do not wish to excite her; she will probably open her eyesin a few moments. Take her home as quietly as you can."

  "You will call to-morrow?" whispered Levice.

  He quietly assented.

  "Now be deft." The transfer was quickly made, and nodding cheerfully,Dr. Kemp left the room.

  Ruth came forward. Five minutes later Mrs. Levice opened her eyes.

  "Why, what has happened?" she asked languidly.

  "You fell asleep, Esther," replied her husband, gently.

  "Yes, I know; but why is Ruth in that gown? Oh--ye-es!" Consciousnesswas returning to her. "And who was that handsome man who was here?"

  "A friend of Ruth."

  "He is very strong," she observed pensively. She lay back in her chairfor a few minutes as if dreaming. Suddenly she started up.

  "What thoughtless people we are! Let us go back to the drawing-room, orthey will think something dreadful has happened."

  "No, Mamma; I do not feel at all like going back. Stay here with Fatherwhile I get our wraps."

  Before Mrs. Levice could demur, Ruth had left the room. As she turned inthe direction of the stairs, she was rather startled by a hand laid uponher shoulder.

  "Oh, you, Louis! I am going for our wraps."

  "Here they are. How is my aunt?"

  "She is quite herself again. Thanks for the wraps. Will you call up thecarriage, Louis? We shall go immediately, but do not think of comingyourself."

  "Nonsense! Tell your mother you have made your adieux to Mrs.Merrill,--she understands; the carriage is waiting."

  A few minutes later the Levices and Louis Arnold quietly stole away.Mrs. Levice has had an attack of hysteria. "Nothing at all," the worldsaid, and dismissed it as carelessly as most of the quiet turning-pointsin a life-history are dismissed.