Levice slept.
Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.
Far across the river a woman's silvery voice was singing the sweet old
love-song, "Juanita;" overhead, the golden crescent moon hung low from the
floor of heaven pulsating with stars; it was a passionate, tender night,
and Ruth, with her face raised to the holy beauty, was a dreamy part of it.
Against the black lace about her head her face shone like a cameo, her eyes
were brown wells of starlight; she scarcely seemed to breathe, so still she
sat, her slender hands loosely clasped in her lap.
Dr. Kemp sat opposite her--and Mrs. Levice slept.
Slowly and more slowly sped the tiny boat; long gentle strokes touched the
water; and presently the oars lay idle in their locks, --they were
unconsciously drifting. The water dipped and lapped about the sides; the
tender woman's voice across the water stole to them, singing of love; their
eyes met--and Mrs. Levice slept.
Ever, in the after time, when Ruth heard that song, she was again rocking
in the frail row-boat upon the lovely river, and a man's deep, grave eyes
held hers as if they would never let them go, till under his worshipping
eyes her own filled with slow ecstatic tears.
"Doctor," called a startled voice, "row out; I am right under the trees.
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