other's hands, passing out together immediately
after.

Chapter XXVI

Herbert Kemp and Dr. Stephens stood quietly talking to Mr. Levice. The
latter seemed weaker since his exertion of the morning, and his head lay
back among the pillows as if the support were grateful. Still his
eager eyes were keenly fastened upon the close-lipped mouth and broad,
speaking brow of the minister who spoke so quietly and pleasantly. Kemp,
looking pale and handsome, answered fitfully when appealed to, and kept
an expectant eye upon the door. When Ruth entered, he went forward to
meet her, drawing her arm through his. They had had no word together,
no meeting of any kind but right here in the morning; and now, as she
walked toward the bed, the gentle smile that came as far as her eyes was
all for her father. Thought could hold no rival for him that day.

"This is Miss Levice, Dr. Stephens," said Kemp, presenting them. A swift
look of wonderment passed under the reverend gentleman's beetle-brows as
he bent over her hand. Could this tall, beautiful girl be the daughter
of little Jules Levice? Where did she get that pure Madonna face, that
regal bearing, that mobile and expressive mouth? The explanation was
sufficient when Mrs. Levice entered. They stood talking, not much, but
in that wandering, obligatory way that precedes any undertaking. They
were waiting for Arnold; he came in presently with a bunch of pale
heliotropes. He always looked well and in character when dressed for
some social event; it was as if he were made for this style of dress,
not the style for him. The delicate pink of his cheeks looked more like
the damask skin of a young girl than ever; his eyes, however, behind
their glasses, were veiled. As he handed Ruth the flowers, he said,--

"I asked the doctor to allow me to give you these. Will you hold them
with my love?"

"They are both very dear to me," she replied, raising the flowers to her
lips.

Their fragrance filled the room while the simple ceremony was being
performed. It was a striking picture, and one not likely to be
forgotten. Levice's eyes filled with proud, pardonable tears as he
looked at his daughter,--for never had she looked as to-day in her
simple white gown, her face like a magnolia bud, a fragrant dream;
standing next to Kemp, the well-mated forms were noticeable. Even
Arnold, with his heart like a crushed ball of lead, acknowledged it
in bitter resignation. For him the scene was one of those