Nothing was left but for him to comply with her wishes; and as she walked out, he quickly got himself into his proper vestments, seized a vial from his office, and hurried after her. At this juncture the storm was frightful. Up the street he could see come one trying ineffectually to move on. Being a powerful man, he strode on, though the great gusts carried his breath away. In a few minutes he came alongside of Ruth, who was making small progress.
"Will you take my arm?" he asked quietly. "It will help you."
She drew back in alarm.
"There is no necessity," he indistinctly heard in the roar of the gale.
He kept near enough to her, however, to see her. All along this block of Van Ness Avenue is a row of tall, heavy-foliaged eucalyptus-trees; they tossed and creaked and groaned in the furious wind. A violent gust almost took the two pedestrians off their feet, but not too quickly for Dr. Kemp to make a stride toward Ruth and drag her back. At the same moment, one of the trees lurched forward and fell with a crash upon them. By a great effort he had turned and, holding her before him, received the greater blow upon his back.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, bending his head so near her face that his short wet beard brushed her cheek.
"No," she said, wresting herself from him; "I thank you--but you have hurt yourself."
"You are mistaken," he said abruptly. "Take my arm, please."
He did not wait for her yea or nay; but drawing her arm through his, he strode on in silence, holding it closely pinioned against his heart. When they reached the house, they were both white and breathless. Nora opened the door for them.
"Oh, Miss Ruth, do hurry up!" she cried, wringing her hands as the doctor threw off his coat and hat; "all she does now is to stare at us with her teeth all chattering."
The doctor sprang up three steps at a time, Ruth quickly following.
The room was in a blaze of light; Mrs. Levice sat up in bed, her large dark eyes staring into vacancy, her face as white as the snowy counterpane.
Kemp looked like a pillar of strength as he came up to the bedside.
"Well?" he said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.
As he took her hand in his, she strove to speak; but the sobbing result was painful.
"None of that!" he said sternly, laying his hand on her shoulders. "If you try, you can stop this. Now see, I am holding you. Look at me, and you will understand you must quiet down."
He used his well-known power of magnetism. Gradually the quivering shoulders quieted beneath his hands; the staring eyes relaxed, and he gently laid her head upon the pillow.
"Don't go away!" she implored piteously, as she felt his hands move from her.
"No, indeed," he replied in a bright, soothing voice; "see, I am going to give you a few drops of this, which will make you all right in a short time. Now then, open your mouth."
"But, Doctor, I wish to speak to you."
"After you have taken this and rested awhile."
"And you won't go away?" she persisted.
"I shall stay right here." She obediently swallowed the dose; and as he drew up an easy-chair and seated himself, the drawn lines on her face relaxed.
"It is so strengthening to have you here," she murmured.
"It will be more strengthening for you to close your eyes."
Ruth, who still stood in her wet clothes, lowered the lights.
"You had better change your clothes immediately," said Kemp, in a low tone from his chair.
She did not look at him, but at his voice she left the room.
Quickly removing her wet garments, she slipped into a loose, dull red gown.
As the dry warmth of it reached her senses, she suddenly remembered that his feet might be wet. She lit a candle, and going into Louis's room, appropriated a pair of slippers that stood in his closet.
It was now past midnight; but no thought of sleep occurred to her till, entering her mother's room, she perceived in the semi-darkness that the doctor lay back with closed eyes. He was not asleep, however, for he opened his eyes at her light footfall. She looked very beautiful in her unconfined gown, the red tone heightening the creamy colorlessness of her face.
"Will you put them on?" she asked in a hushed voice, holding out the slippers.
"You are very kind," he replied, looking with hungry eyes into her face.
Seeing that he did not take them, she placed them on the carpet. The action recalled him to himself, and wishing to detain her, he said,-- "Do they belong to a man as big as I?"
"They are my cousin's."
She had half turned to leave.
"Ah," he returned, "and will he relish the idea of my standing in his shoes?"
No double-entendre was intended, but Ruth's thoughts gave one miserable bound to Arnold.
"He will be pleased to add to your comfort," spoke Mrs. Levice from the bed, thus saving Ruth an answer.
"I do not need them," said the doctor, turning to her swiftly; "and, Mrs.
Levice, if you do not go to sleep, I shall leave."
"I want Ruth to stay in the room," she murmured petulantly.
"Very well, Mamma," said Ruth, wearily, seating herself in a low, soft-cushioned chair in a remote corner. She knew how to sit perfectly still. It was a peculiar situation, --the mother, who had been the means of drawing these two together first and last, slept peacefully; and he and she, the only waking mortals in the house, with the miserable gulf between them, sat there without a word.
