At six o'clock the hills in their soft carpet of dull browns and greens were gently warming under the sun's first rays. At seven the early train that Dr. Kemp purposed taking would leave. Ruth, with this knowledge at heart, had softly risen and left the cottage. Close behind the depot rose a wooded hill. She had often climbed it with the Tyrrell boys; and what was to prevent her doing so now? It afforded an excellent view of the station.
It was very little past six, and she began leisurely to ascend the hill.
The sweet morning air was in her nostrils, and she pushed the broad hat form her happy eyes. She paused a moment, looking up at the wooded hill-top, which the sun was jewelling in silver.
"Do you see something beautiful up there?"
With an inarticulate cry she wheeled around and faced Dr. Kemp within a hand's breadth of her.
"Oh," she cried, stepping back with burning cheeks, "I did not mean--I did not expect--"
"Nor did I," he said in a low voice; "chance is kinder to us than ourselves--beloved."
She turned quite white at the low, intense word.
"You understood me last night--and I was not--deceived?"
Her head drooped lower till the broad brim of her hat hid her face.
With one quick step he reached her side.
"Ruth, look at me."
She never had been able to resist his compelling voice; and now with a swift-drawn breath she threw back her head and looked up at him fairly, with all her soul in her eyes.
"Are you satisfied?" she asked tremulously.
"Not yet," he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.
"My Santa Filomena," he murmured with his lips against her hair, "this is worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long."
In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared meet his eyes when he finally held her from him.
"Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I, dear; you can trust me, I think."
"I know," she said, her hand fluttering in his; "but isn't--the train coming?"
"Are you so anxious to have me go?"
Her hand closed tightly around his.
"Because," laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I have something to ask you."
"To ask me?"
"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still further? Will you be my wife, love?"
A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering tenderness. "If you really want me," she replied, with a sobbing laugh.
"Soon?" he persisted.
"Why?"
"Because you must. You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth."
"I am not afraid of you, sir."
"Then you should be. Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five; did you remember that when you made me king among men?"
"Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two."
"As ancient as that? Then you should be able to answer me. Make it soon, sweetheart."
"Why, how you beg--for a king. Besides, there is Father, you know; he decides everything for me."
"I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaiting him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last night, and_ Ah, the whistle! What day is this, Ruth?"
"Friday."
"Good Friday, sweet, I think."
"Oh, I am not at all superstitious."
"And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
Monday will be four days rolled into one."
"Remember," he continued hurriedly, "you are doubly precious now, darling, and take good care of yourself till our 'Auf Wiedersehn.'"
"And--and--you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?"
"Who? There is no doctor here that I know of."
"But I know one--Herbert."
"God bless you for that, dear!" he answered gravely.
Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the out-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kemp where he belonged, --to his busy practice, --and leaving his child's peace undisturbed. Confound the man, anyway! he mused; what had possessed him to drop down upon them in that manner and rob Ruth of her appetite and happy talk? No doubt she had been flattered by the interest he had shown in her; but he was too old and too dignified a gentleman to resort to flirtation, and anything deeper was out of the question. He must certainly have a little plain talk with the child this morning, and, well, he could cry "Ebenezer!" on his departure. With this conclusion, he softly rose, taking care not to disturb his placidly sleeping wife, who never dreamed of waking till nine.
Ruth generally waited for him for breakfast, but not seeing her around, he went in and took a solitary meal. Sauntering out afterward toward the hotel porch, his hat on, his stick under his are, and busily lighting a cigar, he was met at the door of the billiard-room by one of the clerks.
"Dr. Kemp left this for you this morning," said he, holding out a small envelope. A flush rose to the old gentleman's sallow cheek as he took it.
"Thank you," he said; "I believe I shall come in here for a few minutes."
He passed by the clerk and seated himself in a deep, cane-bottomed chair near the window. He fumbled for the cord of his glasses in a slightly nervous manner, and adjusted them hastily. The missive was addressed to him, certainly; and with no little wonder he tore it open and read:--
BEACHAM'S Friday morning.
MR. LEVICE:
MY DEAR SIR,--Pardon the hurried nature of this communication, but I must leave shortly on the in-coming train, having an important operation to undertake this morning; otherwise I should have liked to prepare you more fully, but time presses. Simply, then, I love your daughter. I told her so last night upon the river, and she has made me the proudest and happiest of men by returning my love. I am well aware what I am asking of you when I ask her of you to be my wife. You know me personally; you know my financial standing; I trust to you to remember my failings with mercy in the knowledge of our great love. Till Monday night, then, I leave her and my happiness to your consideration and love.
With the greatest respect, Yours Sincerely, HERBERT KEMP.
"My God!"
The clerk standing near him in the doorway turned hurriedly.
