He lowered his glass and turned round on her so suddenly that Ruth started.
“Oh,” she faltered, “I--I beg your pardon; I had forgotten you were not Louis.”
“I do not mind in the least,” he assured her easily.
The last act passes merrily and quickly; only the severe, great things of life move slowly.
As the doctor and Ruth made their way through the crowded lobby, the latter thought she had never seen so many acquaintances, each of whom turned an interested look at her stalwart escort. Of this she was perfectly aware, but the same human interest with which Kemp’s acquaintances regarded her passed by her unnoticed.
A moment later they were in the fresh, open air.
“How beautiful it is!” said Ruth, looking up at the stars. “The wind has entirely died away.”
“‘On such a night,’” quoth Kemp, as they approached the curb, “a closed carriage seems out of season.”
“And reason,” supplemented Ruth, while the doctor opened the door rather slowly. She glanced at him hesitatingly.
“Right! I would!” The door was banged to.
“John,” he said, looking up at his man in the box, “take this trap round to the stable; I shall not need the horses again to-night.”
John touched his hat, and Kemp drew his companion’s little hand through his arm.
“Well,” he said, as they turned the corner, “Were you satisfied with the great man to-night?”
“Yes,” she replied meditatively, “fully; there was no exaggeration,--it was all quite natural.”
“Don’t mention her, please; I detest her.”
“And yet she spoke quite prettily on the night.”
“Why, where were you while all the world was making merry on the stage?”
“Not with them; I was with the weary, heart-broken old man who passed out when joy began.”
“Ah! I fancied you did not half appreciate Gratiano’s jesting. Miss Levice, I am afraid you allow the sorry things of life to take too strong a hold on you. It is not right. I assure you for every tear there is a laugh, and you must learn to forget the former in the latter.”
“I am sorry,” replied Ruth, quite sadly; “but I fear I cannot learn that,--tears are always stronger than laughter. How could I listen to the others’ nonsense when my heart was sobbing with that lonely old man? Forgive me, but I cannot forget him.”
They walked along silently for some time. Instinctively, each felt the perfect accord with which they kept step. Ruth’s little ear was just about on a level with the doctor’s chin. He hardly felt the soft touch of her hand upon his sleeve; but as he looked at the white profile of her cheek against the dark fur of her collar, the knowledge that she was there was a pleasing one.