He came over to her then, standing before her, looking into her eyes, and there was that half-appealing look in his which had touched her before.
“Ruth, if we could—if there was any way that we could—manage to like them a little, it would make the whole thing so much better, both for them and us.”
What an amazing thing to say! what an almost ludicrous thing, when one reflected that he was talking about his wife! Yet none knew better than did Ruth that names implying love did not make love! How pitiful this appealing sentence was! How could her father ever hope to learn to like this woman, who was his wife? For herself, she had not even thought of such a thing as trying. The most she had planned for was to endure, to tolerate—certainly not to like, most certainly never to love! She stood dumbly before her father, having no word of help for him. And presently he turned from her with a sigh; and, when he spoke again, it was in a business-like tone:
“Well, daughter, do the best you can. Manage everything exactly as you have been in the habit of doing. About the dress question, talk with Susan, if you can; tell her what will be proper—what you want done. I will see that her mother follows her directions. For the rest, we will manage some way; we shall have to depend on the kindness of our friends. Judge Burnham will help us in any way he can. He understands matters.”
This suggested to Ruth to inquire in regard to him.
“What is Judge Burnham staying in town for? Where is he staying, anyway?”
“Why, he lives in town. He is practicing here. Didn’t you know it? He has been absent a long time on professional business. I hardly know how it has happened that you have never met him until now. He has a country-seat ten miles or so away from the city. He is there a good deal, I presume; but he boards now at the Leighton House. He was about changing boarding places when we came home. It was for that reason, among others, that I invited him to stop with us for a few days. You like him, don’t you, Ruth?”
This last with a sudden change of tone, and almost anxiety expressed in his manner.
“Oh, yes,” said Ruth, half in impatience, as one to whom the subject was too unimportant to stop over. And she was conscious of a flitting determination that, whatever other person she might be called upon to like, she would never trouble herself to make any effort of that sort for him.
And then she went away to plan for a party in which she was to be the real head, while appearing before the world only as the dutiful daughter; to plan, also, for the new mother and sister’s toilets—whether they would, or not, trusting to her father’s authority to make them submissive to her schemes.