Other Things Being Equal

Chapter XXIII

CHAPTER XXIII HE NEXT day passed like a nightmare. To add to the misery of her secret, her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any communication from her husband . Had the weather been fair, Ruth would have insisted on her going out with her, but to the rain of the day before was added a heavy wind-storm which made any unnecessary expedition from home absurd, Mrs, Levice worried herself into a headache, but would not lie down. She was sure the next delivery would bring something. Wasn't it time for the second delivery? Wouldn't Ruth please watch for the postman? By half-past one she took up her station at the window, only to see the jaunty little rubber-encased man go indifferently by. At half-past four this scene was repeated, and then she decided to act, "Ring up the telegraph-office, Ruth; I'm going to send a dispatch ." "Why, mamma, probably the mail is delayed; it always is in winter. Besides, you'll only frighten father." "Nonsense; two days is a long delay without the excuse of a blockade. Go to the telephone, please." "The telephone has been out of order since yesterday, you know," "I had forgotten. Well, one of the maids must go; I can't stand it any longer," "You can't send any of the servants in such weather; both the maids have terrible colds, and Mary wouldn't go if you asked her. Listen! It's frightful, I promise to go in the morning if we don't get a letter, but we probably shall. Let's play checkers for a 232 OTHER THINQS BEINQ EQUAL while," With a forced stoicism she essayed to distract her mother 's thoughts, but with poor success- The wretched afternoon drew to a close; and immediately after a show of dining, Mrs* Levice went to bed. At Ruth's suggestion she took some headache medicine* "It will make me sleep, perhaps, and that will be better than worrying awake and unable to do anything." The opiate soon had its effect, and with a sign of relief Ruth heard her mother's regular breathing. It was now her turn to suffer openly her own fears. Louis had said she would hear tonight , but at what time? It was now eight o'clock, and the bell might ring at any moment. Mrs. Levice slept, and Ruth sat dryeyed and alert, feeling her heart rise to her throat every time the windows shook or the doors rattled. It was one of the wildest nights San Francisco had ever experienced: trees groaned, gates slammed, and a terrific war of the elements was abroad. The wailing wind about the house haunted her like the desolate cry of someone begging for shelter. The ormolu clock ticked on and chimed forth nine. Still her mother slept. Ruth from her chair could see that her cheeks were unnaturally flushed and that her breathing was hurried, but any degree of oblivion was better than the impatient outlook for menacing tidings. Despite the heated room, her hands grew cold, and she wrapped them in the fleecy shawl in which she was enveloped. The action brought to mind the way her father had been wont to tuck her little hands under the coverlet when a child, after they had clung around his neck in a long good-night, and how no sooner were they there than out they would pop for "just one squeeze more, father." How long the good-nights had been with this play! She had never called him "papa" like other children, but he had always liked it best so. She brushed a few drops from her lashes as the sweet little chimes of the clock rang out ten bells. She felt heartsick with her thoughts, her limbs ached with stiffness, and she began a gentle walk up and down the room. Would it keep up all night? There! surely somebody was crunching up the gravel walk. With one look at her sleeping mother, she quickly left the room, closing the door noiselessly behind her. With a palpitating heart she OTHER THINGS BEINQ EQUAL 233 leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm, after all? The next instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as startling in the dead of the night as a supernatural summons. Before Ruth could hurry down, Nora, looking...