"There will be no occasion, dear," remonstrated the indulgent father, at sight of the annoyed flash in Ruth"s eyes; "I shall."
By which it will be seen that the course of an only child is not so smooth as one of many children may think; every action of the former a.s.sumes such prominence that it is examined and cross-examined, and very often sent to Coventry; whereas, in a large family, the happy-go-lucky offspring has his little light dimmed, and therefore less remarked, through the propinquity of others.
Chapter XII
If Ruth, in the privacy of her heart, realized that she was sailing toward dangerous rapids, the premonition gave her no unpleasant fears.
Possibly she used no lens, being content to glide forever on her smooth stream of delight. When the sun blinds us, we cannot see the warning black lurking in the far horizon. Without doubt the girl"s soul and sympathies were receiving their proper food. Life was full for her, not because she was occupied,--for a busy life does not always prove a full one,--but because she entered thoroughly into the lives of others, struggled with their struggles, triumphed in their triumphs, and was beginning to see in everything, good or bad, its necessity of existence.
Under ordinary circ.u.mstances one cannot see much misery without experiencing a world of disillusion and futile rebellion of spirit; but Ruth was not living just at that time under ordinary circ.u.mstances.
Something of the nature of electricity seemed to envelop her, that made her pulses bound, her lips quick to smile, and her eyes shine like twin dreamstars. She seemed to be moving to some rapturous music unheard save only by herself. At night, alone with her heart, she dared hardly name to herself the meaning of it all, a puritanic modesty withheld her.
Yet all the sweet humility of which she was possessed could not banish from her memory the lingering clasp of a hand, the warm light that fell from eyes that glanced at her. For the present, these were grace sufficient for her daily need. Given the perfume, what need to name the flower?
Her family, without understanding it, noted the difference in their different ways. Mrs. Levice saw with a thrill of delight that she was growing more softly beautiful. Her father, holding his hands a few inches from her shoulders, said, one morning, with a drolly puzzled look, "I am afraid to touch you; sparks might fly."
Arnold surprised her standing in the gloaming by a window, her hands clasped over her head, a smile parting her lips, her eyes haunting in the witchery of their expression. By some occult power her glance fell unconsciously on him; and he beheld, with mingled amazement and speculation, a rosy hue overspread her face and throat; her hands went swiftly to her face as if she would hide something it might reveal, and she pa.s.sed quickly from the room. Arnold sat down to solve this problem of an unknown quant.i.ty.
Ruth"s birthday came in its course, a few days after her meeting with Rose Delano.
The family celebrated it in their usual simple way, which consisted only in making the day pa.s.s pleasantly for the one whose day of days it was,--a graceful way of showing that the birth has been a happy one for all concerned.
On this evening of her twenty-second birthday, Ruth seemed to be in her element. She had donned, in a spirit of mischief, a gown she had worn five years before on the occasion of some festivity. The girlish fashion of the white frock, with its straight, full skirt to her ankles, the round baby waist, and short puffs on her shoulders made a very child of her.
"Who can imagine me seventeen?" she asked gayly as she entered the library, softly lighted by many wax candles. Her mother, who was again enjoying the freedom of the house, and who was now snugly ensconced in her own particular chair, looked up at her.
"That little frock makes me long to take you in my lap," said she, brightly.
"And it makes me long to be there," answered Ruth, throwing herself into her mother"s arms and twining her arms about her neck.
"How now, Mr. Arnold, you can"t scare me tonight with your sarcastic disapproval!" she laughed, glancing provokingly over at her cousin seated in a deep blue-cushioned chair.
"I have no desire to scare you, little one," he answered pleasantly. "I only do that to children or grown-up people."
"And what am I, pray, good sir?"
"You are neither; you are neither child or woman; you are neither flesh nor spirit; you are uncanny."
"Dear me! In other words, I am a conundrum. Who will guess me?"
"You are the Sphinx," replied her cousin.
"I won"t be that ugly-faced thing," she retorted; "guess again."
"Impossible. Once acquire a sphinx"s elusiveness and you are a mystery perpetual. You alone can unriddle the riddle."
"I can"t. I give myself up."
"Not so fast, young woman," broke in her father, shutting his magazine and settling his gla.s.ses more firmly upon his nose; "that is an office I alone can perform. Who has been hunting on my preserves?"
"Alas! They are not tempting, so be quite calm on that score." She sat up with a forlorn sigh, adding, "Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and not a heart to hang on my chatelaine."
"Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays," said Louis, rea.s.suringly; "I am sure you have mittened one or two."
"Oh, yes," she answered, laughing evasively, "both of little Toddie Flynn"s. Mamma, don"t you think I am too big a baby for you to hold long?" She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father"s chair, exclaimed,--
"Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it short and sweet and with a moral like you."
Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.
"Once upon a time," he began, "a little boy went into his father"s warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but he was so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him. That is short and sweet; and what is the moral?"
"Selfishness brings misery," answered Ruth, promptly; "clever of both of us, but what is the a.n.a.logy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feel as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights."
"And get scorched for my pains? Thanks; this is very comfortable.
Distance adds to illusion."
"You don"t mean to admit you have any illusions, do you? Why, those gla.s.ses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Did you ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?"
"Yes; there is a standing inst.i.tution of whose honest value there is no doubt."
"And that is?"
"My bed."
"After all, it is a lying inst.i.tution, my friend; and are you not deposing your masculine muse,--your cigar? Oh, that reminds me of the annual peace-pipe."
She jumped up, s.n.a.t.c.hed a candle, and left the room. As she turned toward the staircase she was arrested by the ringing of the doorbell.
She stood quite still, holding the lighted candle while the maid opened the door.
"Is Miss Levice in?" asked the voice that made the little candle-light seem like myriads of swimming stars. As the maid answered in the affirmative, she came mechanically forward and met the bright-glancing eyes of Dr. Kemp.
"Good-evening," she said, holding out her disengaged hand, which he grasped and shook heartily.
"Is it Santa Filomena?" he asked, smiling into her eyes.
"No, only Ruth Levice, who is pleased to see you. Will you step into the library? We are having a little home evening together."
"Thank you. Directly." He slipped out of his topcoat, and turning quietly to her, said, "But before we go in, and I enact the odd number, I wish to say a few words to you alone, please."
She bent a look of inquiry upon him, and meeting the gaze of his compelling eyes, led him across the hall into the drawing-room. He noticed how the soft light she held made her the only white spot in the dark room, till, touching a tall silver lamp, she threw a rosy halo over everything. That it was an exquisite, graceful apartment he felt at a glance.
She placed her candle upon a tiny rococo table, and seated herself in a quaint, low chair overtopped by two tiny ivory horns that spread like hands of blessing above her head. The doctor declined to sit down, but stood with one hand upon the fragile table and looked down at her.
"I am inclined to think, after all," he said slowly, "that you are in truth the divine lady with the light. It is a pretty name and a pretty fame,--that of Santa Filomena."
What had come over her eyelids that they refused to be raised?
"I think," he continued with a low laugh, "that I shall always call you so, and have all rights reserved. May I?"