Other Things Being Equal Part 11

"Well, don't you think it is rather hard of you to deprive poor Bob of any pleasure to-day may bring, on the ground that to-morrow he may wish it too, and will not be able to have it?"

"As you put it, it does seem so; but I am pugnacious enough to wish you to see it as practically as I do. Put sentiment aside, and the only sensible thing to be done now is to prepare him for the hard, uncushioned facts of an active life."

"But why must it be so hard for him?"

"Why? In the face of the inevitable, that is a time-wasting, useless question. Life is so; even if we find its underlying cause, the discovery will not alter the fact."

"Yes, it will."

"How?"

"By its enabling us to turn our backs on the hard way and seek a softer."

"You forget that strait-jacket to all inclination,--circ.u.mstance."

"And are you not forgetting that friendly hands may help to remove the strait-jacket?"

Her lovely face looked very winning, filled with its kindly meaning.

"Thank you," said he, raising his hat and forgetting to replace it as he spoke; "that is a gentle truth; some day we shall discuss this further.

For the present, use your power in getting Bob upon his feet."

"Yes." She gave a hurried glance at the door behind her, and ran quickly down to the lowest step. "Dr. Kemp," said she, a little breathlessly, "I have wished for some time to ask you to let me know when you have any cases that require a.s.sistance outside of a physician's,--such as my father or I might lend. You must have a broad field for such opportunities. Will you think of me then, please?"

"I will," he replied, looking with amused pleasure at her flushed face.

"Going in for philanthropy, Miss Levice?"

"No; going out for it, thank you;" and she put her hand into his outstretched one. She watched him step into his carriage; he turned and raised his hat again,--a trifling circ.u.mstance that Ruth dwelt upon with pleasure; a second glance always presupposes an interested first.

He did not fail to keep his promise; and once on the lookout for "cases"

herself, Ruth soon found enough irons in the fire to occupy her spare moments.

Mrs. Levice, however, insisted upon her resuming her place in society.

"A young girl must not withdraw herself from her sphere, or people will either consider her eccentric or will forget her entirely. Don't be unreasonable, Ruth; there is no reason why you should not enjoy every function in our circle, and Louis is always happy to take you. When he asked you if you would go with him to the Art Exhibition on Friday night, I heard you say you did not know. Now why?"

"Oh, that? I never gave it a second's thought. I promised Father to go with him in the afternoon; I did not consider it worth an explanation."

"But, you see, I did. It looks very queer for Louis to be travelling around by himself; couldn't you go again in the evening with him?"

"Of course, you over-thoughtful aunt. If the pictures are good, a second visit will not be thrown away,--that is, if Louis is really anxious for my companionship. But, 'I doubt it, I doubt it, I do.'"

"What nonsense!" returned her mother, somewhat testily. "Why shouldn't he be? You are always amiable together, are you not?"

"Well," she said, knitting her brows and pursing her lips drolly, "that, methinks, depends on the limits and requirements of amiability. If disputation showeth a friendly spirit, then is my lord overfriendly; for it oft hath seemed of late to pleasure his mood to wax disputations, though, in sooth, lady fair, I have always maintained a wary and decorous demeanor."

"I can imagine," laughed her mother, a little anxiously; "then you will go?"

"Why not?"

If Arnold really cared for the outcome of such manoeuvres, Mrs. Levice's exertions bore some fruit.

Chapter VIII

There are few communities, comparatively speaking, with more enthusiastic theatre-lovers than are to be found in San Francisco. The play was one of the few worldly pleasures that Mr. Levice thoroughly enjoyed. When a great star was heralded, he was in a feverish delight until it had come and gone. When Bernhardt appeared, the quiet little man fully earned the often indiscriminately applied t.i.tle of "crazy Frenchman." A Frenchman is never so much one as when confronted in a foreign land with a great French creation; every fibre in his body answers each charm with an appreciation worked to fever-heat by patriotic love; at such times the play of his emotions precludes any idea of reason to an onlooker. Bernhardt was one of Levice's pa.s.sions.

Booth was another, though he took him more composedly. The first time the latter appeared at the Baldwin (his opening play was "Hamlet") the Levices--that is, Ruth and her father--went three times in succession to witness his matchless performance, and every succeeding characterization but strengthened their enthusiasm.

Booth was coming again. The announcement had been rapturously hailed by the Levices.

"It will be impossible for us to go together, Father," Ruth remarked at the breakfast-table. "Louis will have to take me on alternate nights, while you stay at home with Mamma; did you hear, Louis?"

"You will hardly need to do that," answered Arnold, lowering his cup; "if you and your father prefer going together, I shall enjoy staying with your mother on those nights."

"Thanks for the offer--and your evident delight in my company," laughed Ruth; "but there is one play at which you must submit to the infliction of my presence. Don't you remember we always wished to see the 'Merchant of Venice' and judge for ourselves his interpretation of the character?

Well, I am determined that we shall see it together."

"When does he play it?"

"A week from Sat.u.r.day night."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be out of town at the end of next week."

"Oh, dear? Honestly? Can't you put it off? I want so much to go."

"Impossible. Go with your father."

"You know very well neither of us would go off and leave Mamma alone at night. It is horrid of you to go. I am sure you could manage differently if--"

"Why, my child!"

She was actually pouting; and her father's quiet tone of surprised reprimand just headed off two great tears that threatened to fall.

"I know," she said, trying to smile, and showing an April face instead; "but I had just set my heart on going, and with Louis too."

"That comes of being a spoilt only child," put in Arnold, suavely.

"You ought to know by this time that of the many plans we make with ourselves, nine out of ten come to nought. Before you set your heart on a thing, be sure you will not have to give it up."

Ruth, still sore with disappointment, acknowledged this philosophic remark with a curled lip.

"There, save your tears for something more worthy," cut in Levice, briskly; "if you care so much about it, we or chance must arrange it as you wish."

But chance in this instance was not propitious. Wednesday came, and Arnold saw no way of accommodating her. He left town after taking her to see the "Fool's Revenge" as a sort of subst.i.tution.

"You seemed to be enjoying the poor Fool's troubles last night,"

observed Dr. Kemp, in the morning; they were still standing in Mrs.

Levice's room.