en crescent moon hung low from
the floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender
night, and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy
part of it. Against the black lace about her head her face shone like
a cameo, her eyes were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to
breathe, so still she sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.

Dr. Kemp sat opposite her--and Mrs. Levice slept.

Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched
the water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks,--they were
unconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
tender woman's voice across the water stole to them, singing of love;
their eyes met--and Mrs. Levice slept.

Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again
rocking in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man's deep,
grave eyes held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his
worshipping eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.

"Doctor," called a startled voice, "row out; I am right under the
trees."

They both started. Mrs. Levice was, without doubt, awake. They had
drifted into a cove, and she was cowering from the over-hanging boughs.

"I do not care to be Absalomed; where were your eyes, Ruth?" she
complained, as Kemp pushed out with a happy, apologetic laugh. "Did not
you see where we were going?"

"No," she answered a little breathlessly; "I believe I am growing
far-sighted."

"It must be time to sight home now," said her mother; "I am quite
chilly."

In five minutes Kemp had grounded the boat and helped Mrs. Levice out.
When he turned for Ruth, she had already sprung ashore and had started
up the slope; for the first time the oars lay forgotten in the bottom of
the boat.

"Wait for us, Ruth," called Mrs. Levice, and the slight white figure
stood still till they came up.

"You are so slow," she said with a reckless little laugh; "I feel as if
I could fly home."

"Are you light-headed, Ruth?" asked her mother, but the girl had fallen
behind them. She could not yet meet his eyes again.

"Come, Ruth, either stay with us or just ahead of us." Mrs. Levice,
awake, was an exemplary duenna.

"There is nothing abroad here but the stars," she answered, flitting
before them.

"And they are stanch, silent friends on such a night," remarked Kemp,
softly.

She kept before them till they reached the gate, and stood insi