ch a course. But it is time you were roused; you know
one look from you is worth a whole sermon from me. As to my thinking of
Louis, well, in running over my list of eligibles, I found he fulfilled
every condition,--good-looking, clever, cultivated, well-to-do, and--of
good family. Why should it not be? They like each other, and see enough
of each other to learn to love. We, however, must bring it to a head."

"First provide the hearts, little woman. What can I do, ask Louis or
Ruth?"

"Jules," she returned with vexation, "how childish! Don't you feel well?
Your cheeks are rather flushed."

"They are somewhat warm. I am going in to kiss the child good-night; she
ran off while I saw Dr. Kemp out."

Ruth sat in her white dressing-gown, her heavy dark hair about her,
her brush idle in her hand. Her father stood silently in the doorway,
regarding her, a great dread tugging at his heart. Jules Levice was a
keen student of the human face, and he had caught a faint glimpse of
something in the doctor's eyes while Ruth sang. He knew it had been
harmless, for her back had been turned, but he wished to reassure
himself.

"Not in bed yet, my child?"

She started up in confusion as he came in.

"Of what were you thinking, darling?" he continued, putting his hand
under her soft white chin and looking deeply into her eyes.

"Well," she answered slowly, "I was not thinking of anything important;
I was thinking of you. We are going to Beacham's next week--and have you
any fine silk shirts?"

He laughed a hearty, relieved laugh.

"Well, no," he answered; "I leave all such fancies to your care. So we
go next week. I am glad; and you?"

"I? Oh, I love the country in its summer dress, you know."

"Yes. Well, good-night, love." He took her face between his hands, and
drawing it down to his, kissed it. Still holding her, he said with sweet
solemnity,--

"'The Lord bless thee and keep thee.

"'The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.

"'The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.'"

Chapter XIII

It was August. The Levices had purposely postponed leaving town until
the gay, merry-making crowds had disappeared, when Mrs. Levice, in the
quiet autumn, could put a crown to her recovery.

Ruth had quite a busy time getting all three ready, as she was to
continue the management of the household affairs until their return, a
month later. Besides which, numerous little privat