Other Things Being Equal

by Emma Wolf

  Chapter XIX

  Dr. Kemp tossed the reins to his man, sprang from his carriage, andhurried into his house. "Burke!" he called while closing the door,"Burke!" He walked toward the back of the house and into the kitchen,still calling. Finding it empty, he walked back again and began astill hunt about the pieces of furniture in the various rooms. Beingunsuccessful, he went into his bedroom, made a hasty toilet, and hurriedagain to the kitchen.

  "Where have you been, Burke?" he exclaimed as that spare-lookingpersonage turned, spoon in hand, from the range.

  "Right here, General," he replied in surprise, "except when I went out."

  "Well; did any mail come here for me?"

  "One little Billy-do, General. I put it under your dinner-plate; andshall I serve the soup?" the last was bellowed after his master'sretreating form.

  "Wait till I ring," he called back.

  He lifted his solitary plate, snatched up the little letter, and satdown hastily, conscious of a slight excitement.

  His name and address stared at him from the white envelope in a round,firm hand. There was something about the loop-letters that reminded himof her, and he passed his hand caressingly over the surface. He did notbreak the seal for some minutes,--anticipation is sometimes sweeter thanrealization. Finally it was done, but he closed his eyes for asecond,--a boyish trick of his that had survived when he wished someexpected pleasure to spring suddenly upon him. How would she addresshim? The memory of their last meeting gave him courage, and he openedhis eyes. The denouement was disconcerting. Directly under the tinywhite monogram she had begun without heading of any description:--

  It was cruel of me to let you go as I did: you were hopeful when youleft. I led you to this state for a purely selfish reason. After all, itsaved you the anguish of knowing it was a final farewell; for even thenI knew it could never be. Never! Forever!--do you know the meaning ofthose two long words? I do. They have burned themselves irrevocably intomy brain; try to understand them,--they are final.

  I retract nothing that I said to my father in your presence; you knowexactly how I still consider what is separating us. I am wrong. Only Iam causing this separation; no one else could or would. Do not blame myfather; if he were to see me writing thus he would beg me to desist; hewould think I am sacrificing my happiness for him. I have no doubt youthink so now. Let me try to make you understand how different it reallyis. I am no Jephthah's daughter,--he wants no sacrifice, and I makenone. Duty, the hardest word to learn, is not leading me. You heard myfather's words; but not holding him as I do, his face could not recoilupon your heart like a death's hand.

  I am trying to write coherently and to the point: see what a coward Iam! Let me say it now,--I could never be happy with you. Do you rememberShylock,--the old man who withdrew from the merry-making with a breakingheart? I could not make merry while he wept; my heart would weep also.You see how selfish I am; I am doing it for my own sake, and for noone's else.

  And that is why I ask you now to forgive me,--because I am not nobleenough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I ama light person seemingly to play thus with a man's heart. Ifthis reflection can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it soundpresumptuous or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happywithout me? Well, it is said hearts do not break for love,--that is, notquickly. If you will just think of what I have done, surely you willnot regret your release; you may yet find a paradise with some other andbetter woman. No, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to behappy. Why should not you, then,--you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. Inyour busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthyof spoiling your life for you.

  My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. Iam such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgiveme?

  RUTH.

  He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smokingsoup.

  "I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring," he stammered, shocked at thealtered face.

  "Take it away," said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. "Ido not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not bedisturbed."

  The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, andwent back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.

  Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at hisdesk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It tooka long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him ashe laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could seethe expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable emptyfeeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her,--how couldhe, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got upand paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feelingalmost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves tohim. "Paradise with some other, better woman,"--she might have left thatout; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. "I tooshall be happy." Not that, not some other man's wife,--the thought wasdemoniacal. He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. "I mustget out of this," he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hatand went out. The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled withit, and then came home and wrote to her:--

  I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word. Be happy ifyou can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much,--the fact that you aresomewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth theliving. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you,the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever theneed, remember--I am at hand.

  HERBERT KEMP.

  Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answerwas received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavyshadows around her eyes.

  "It is all over, Father," she said; "we have parted forever. Perhaps Idid not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shallbe happier with you, dear."

  "Are you sure, my darling?"

  "Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it isdead and buried; we must never remind each other of it again. Kiss me,Father, and forget that it has been."

  Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as helooked into her lovely, resolute face.