forgive me if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."

"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression rested upon her face till evening.

CHAPTER XVII.

ONDAY night had come. As Ruth half hid a

MONDAY

pale yellow bud in her heavy, low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice. If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had spoken a few disturbing words to her:

"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early, and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him.”

At the distantly courteous tone she raised a pair of startled eyes. He was regarding her patiently, as if awaiting some remark.

Surely you do not wish me to be present at this interview?" she questioned, her voice slightly trembling.

"Not only that, but I desire your most earnest attention and calm reasoning powers to be brought with you. You have not forgotten what I told you to consider, Ruth?"

"No, Father."

She felt, though in a greater degree, as she had often felt in childhood, when, in taking her to task

for some naughtiness, he had worn this same sad and distant look. He had never punished her nominally; the pain he himself showed had always affected her as the severest reprimand never could have done.

She looked like a peaceful, sweet-faced nun in her simple white gown, that fell in long straight folds to her feet; not another sign of color was upon her.

A calmness pervaded her whole person as she paced the softly lighted drawing-room and waited for Kemp.

When he was shown into the room, this tranquillity struck him immediately.

She stood quite still as he came toward her. He certainly had some old-time manners, for the reverence he felt for her caused him first of all to raise her hand to his lips. The curious, well-known flush rose slowly to her sensitive face at the action; when he had caught her swiftly to him, a sobbing sigh escaped her.

"What is it?" he asked, drawing her down to a seat beside him. "Are you tired of me already, love?"

"Not of you; of waiting," she answered, half shyly meeting his look.

"I hardly expected this," he said after a pause; "has your father flown bodily from the enemy and left you to face him alone?"

"Not exactly. But really it was kind of him to keep away for a while, was it not?" she asked simply.

"It was unusually kind. I suppose, however, you will have to make your exit on his entrance."

"No," she laughed quietly; "I am going to play the role of the audience to-night. He expressly desires my presence; but if you differ

He looked at her curiously. The earnestness with which she had greeted him settled like a mask upon his face. The hand that held hers drew it quickly to his breast.

"I think it is well that you remain," he said, "because we agree at any rate on the main point, that we love each other. Always that, darling?

The low, sweet voice that for the first time so caressed him thrilled him oddly; but a measured step was heard in the hall, and Ruth moved like a bird to a chair. He could not know that the sound of the step had given her the momentary courage thus to address him.

He arose deferentially as Mr. Levice entered. The two men formed a striking contrast. Kemp stood tall, stalwart, straight as an arrow; Levice, with his short stature, his stooping shoulders, and his silvery hair falling about and softening somewhat his plain Jewish face, served as a foil to the other's bright, handsome figure.

Kemp came forward to meet him and grasped his hand. Nothing is more thoroughly expressive than this shaking of hands between men. It is a freemasonry that women lack and are the losers thereby. The kiss is a sign of emotion; the hand-clasp bespeaks strong esteem or otherwise. Levice's hand closed tightly about the doctor's large one; there was a great feeling of mutual respect between these two.

"How are you and your wife?" asked the doctor,

seating himself in a low, silken easy-chair as Levice took one opposite him.

"She is well, but tired this evening, and has gone to bed. She wishes to be remembered to you." As he spoke, he half turned his head to where Ruth sat in a corner, a little removed.

"Why do you sit back there, Ruth?"

She arose, and seeing no other convenient seat at hand, drew up the curious ivory-topped chair. Thus seated, they formed the figure of an isosceles triangle, with Ruth at the apex, the men at the angles of the base. It is a rigid outline, that of the isosceles, bespeaking each point an alien from the others.

There was an uncomfortable pause for some moments after she had seated herself, during which Ruth noted how, as the candle-light from the sconce behind fell upon her father's head, each silvery hair seemed to speak of quiet old age.

Kemp was the first to speak, and, as usual, came straight to the point.

"Mr. Levice, there is no use in disguising or beating around the bush the thought that is uppermost in all our minds. I ask you now, in person, what I asked you in writing last Friday, will you give me your daughter to be my wife?"

Have you

"I will answer you as I did in writing. considered that you are a Christian; that she is a Jewess?"

"I have."

It was the first gun and the answering shot of a strenuous battle.

"And you, my child?" he addressed her in the old sweet way that she had missed in the afternoon.