Other Things Being Equal | Page 6

merely the prosperity of an intellectual, self-made man whose
time for rest had come.
Ruth seated herself on a low stool that she drew up before him, and laid
her hand upon his.
"You, darling?" He spoke in a full, musical voice with a marked French
accent.
"Can you spare me a few minutes, Father?"
"I am all ears;" he shut the book, and his hand closed about hers.
"Jennie was here just now."

"And did not come in to see me?"
"She had something to tell me."
"A secret?"
"Yes; something I must repeat to you."
"Yes?"
"Father--Jennie thinks--she has reason to know that--dear, do you think
Mother is perfectly well?"
"No, my child; I know she is not."
This quiet assurance was staggering.
"And you allow her to go on in this way without calling in a
physician?" A wave of indignant color suffused her cheeks.
"Yes."
"But--but--why?" She became a little confused under his calm gaze,
feeling on the instant that she had implied an accusation unjustly.
"Because, Ruth, I have become convinced of it only within the past
week. Your mother knows it herself, and is trying to hide it from me."
"Did she admit it?"
"I have not spoken of it to her; she is very excitable, and as she wishes
to conceal it, I do not care to annoy her by telling her of my discovery."
"But isn't it wrong--unwise--to allow her to dissipate so much?"
"I have managed within the past week to keep you as quiet as possible."
"But to-night--forgive me, Father--you insist on our going to this
reception."

"Yes, my sweet confessor; but I have a good reason, --one not to be
spoken of."
"'Those who trust us educate us,'" she pleaded in wistful earnestness.
"Then your education is complete. Well, I knew your mother would
resist seeing any physician, for fear of his measures going contrary to
her desires; so I have planned for her to meet to-night a certain doctor
whom I would trust professionally with my wife's life, and on whom I
can rely for the necessary tact to hide the professional object of their
meeting. What do you think of my way, dear?"
For answer she stooped and kissed his hand.
"May I know his name?" she asked after a pause.
"His name is Kemp, --Dr. Herbert Kemp."
"Why, he lives a few blocks from here; I have seen his sign. Is he an
old physician?"
"I should judge him to be between thirty-five and forty. Not old
certainly, but one with the highest reputation for skill. Personally he is
a man of great dignity, inspiring confidence in every one."
"Where did you meet him?"
"In the hospitals," said her father quickly. "But I will introduce him to
you to-night. Don't lose your head when you talk to him."
"Why should I?"
"Because he is a magnificent fellow; and I wish my daughter to hold
her own before a man whom I admire so heartily."
"Why, this is the first time you have ever given me worldly advice,"
she laughed.
"Only a friendly hint," he answered, rising and putting his book in its

place with the precision of a spinster.

Chapter II
"This is what I call a worldly paradise!" A girl with a face like dear
Lady Disdain's sank into a divan placed near the conservatory; her
voice chimed in prettily with the music of a spraying fountain and the
soft strains of remote stringed instruments.
"Is it a frivolous conceit?" she continued, laughing up to the man who
stood beside her; "or do the soft light of many candles, faint music,
radiant women, and courtly men, satisfy your predilections also that
such a place is as near heaven as this wicked world approaches?"
"You forget; paradise was occupied by but two. To my notion, nothing
can be farther removed from Elysium than a modern drawing-room full
of guests."
"And leaving out the guests?"
"They say imagination can make a paradise of a desert, given the
necessary 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 the
soft-looking piece of humanity over by that cabinet."
"Yes; his expression is reminiscent of a boy's definition of a vacuum,
--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 a bad
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 listening
so