in strange contrast
to his former violence.

"You see, I am an old man rooted in old ideas; my wife, not so old,
holds with me in this. I do not know how wildly she would take such a
proposition. But, Dr. Kemp, as I said before, though I object, I shall
not oppose this marriage. I love my daughter too dearly to place my
beliefs as an obstacle to what she considers her happiness; it is
she who will have to live the life, not I. You and I, sir, have been
friends; outside of this one great difference there is no man to whom I
would more gladly trust my child. I honor and esteem you as a gentleman
who has honored my child in his love for her. If I have hurt you in
these bitter words, forgive me; as my daughter's husband, we must be
more than friends."

He held out his hand. The doctor took it, and holding it tightly in his,
made answer somewhat confusedly,--

"Mr. Levice, I thank you. I can say no more now, except that no son
could love and honor you more than I shall."

Levice bent his head, and turned to Ruth, who sat, without a movement,
looking straight ahead of her.

"My darling," said her father, softly laying his hand on her head and
raising her lovely face, "if I have seemed selfish and peculiar, trust
me, dear, it was through no lack of love for you. Do not consider me;
forget, if you will, all I have said. You are better able, perhaps, than
I to judge what is best for you. Since you love Dr. Kemp, and if after
all this thought, you feel you will be happy with him, then marry him.
You know that I hold him highly, and though I cannot honestly give you
to him, I shall not keep you from him. My child, the door is open; you
can pass through without my hand. Good-night, my little girl."

His voice quavered sadly over the old-time pet name as he stooped and
kissed her. He wrung the doctor's hand again in passing, and abruptly
turned to leave the room. It was a long room to cross. Kemp and Ruth
followed with their eyes the small, slightly stooped figure of the old
man passing slowly out by himself. As the heavy portiere fell into place
behind him, the doctor turned to Ruth, still seated in her chair.

Chapter XVIII

She was perfectly still. Her eyes seemed gazing into vacancy.

"Ruth," he said softly; but she did not move. His own face showed signs
of the emotions through which he had passed, but was peaceful as if
after a long, triumphant struggle. He came nearer and laid his hand
gently upon her shoulder