CHAPTER XXXIII.

A CHEERFUL DOCTOR.

There was an apartment in Aaron Cohen's house which was called the cozy room, where the family were in the habit of sitting when they had no visitors, and it was here that their real domestic happiness reigned. Here Aaron used to smoke his old silver-mounted pipe, and chat with his wife, and indulge in his entertaining pleasantries when he was in the humor, and here the feeling used to steal over him that life would hold more joy for him and those dear to him if they dwelt in a smaller house and his doings were less under the public eye.

"I am convinced," he would say, "that those who are in the lower middle class are the best off. They have fewer cares, they have more time for domestic enjoyment, they can attend without hindrance to their own affairs. There is no happiness in riches. Why do I continue to wish to accumulate more money?"

"Because," Rachel would answer affectionately, "It enables you to contribute to the happiness of others. But I should be as contented if we were poor."

On the occasion of Mr. Dillworthy's visit to Aaron a scene of a different nature was being enacted in the cozy room. Rachel was overpowered with languor, and she fell into a doze. The apartment was large, but an arrangement of screens and the disposal of the furniture made it look small; domestically speaking, there is no comfort in any but a small room.

Rose during her present visit had noticed with concern that Mrs. Cohen appeared weak, and that her movements, which were always gentle, were more so than usual, and that her quiet ways seemed to be the result of physical prostration. She spoke of it to Rachel, who confessed that she had not felt strong lately, but cautioned Rose to say nothing of it to Aaron.

"He is so easily alarmed about me," she said, "and he has great anxieties upon him."

"But you should see the doctor," urged Rose solicitously.

"I will wait a day or two," answered Rachel, and again enjoined Rose not to alarm her husband.

On the evening of this exciting day she looked so pale and fatigued that she yielded to Rose's solicitations, and without Aaron's knowledge sent for the physician who was in the habit of attending her. While waiting for him she fell asleep in her armchair in the cozy room. At her request Rose played softly some of Rachel's favorite pieces. The piano was behind a screen at one end of the room, and Rose did not know that she had fallen asleep. While thus employed Prissy quietly entered the room. The faithful woman looked at her mistress, and stepped noiselessly to the screen.

"Miss Rose," she whispered.

The girl stopped playing immediately, and came from behind the screen.

"Is it the doctor, Prissy?" she asked.

"No, miss."

Prissy pointed to her mistress, and Rose went to the armchair, and adjusted a light shawl which was falling from the sleeping lady's shoulder. It was a slight action, but it was done with so much tenderness that Prissy smiled approvingly. She liked Rose much better than Ruth, who did not hold in her affections the place the other members of the family did. Humble as was her position in the household, she had observed things of which she disapproved.

Ruth was from home more frequently than she considered proper, and had often said to her: "You need not tell my mother that I have gone out unless she asks you."

Prissy had not disobeyed her, and the consequence was that Ruth was sometimes absent from the house for hours without her father or mother being aware of it. Prissy's idea was that her young mistress would bring trouble on the house, but she kept silence, because she would otherwise have got into trouble herself with Ruth, and would also have distressed her dear lady if she had made mention of her suspicions, for which she could have offered no reasonable explanation. Prissy's distress of mind was not lessened because Ruth, when she enjoined secrecy upon her, gave her money, as if to purchase her silence. She would have refused these bribes, but Ruth forced them upon her, and she felt as if she were in a conspiracy to destroy the peace of the family.

"I did not know she was asleep," said Rose, coming back to Prissy.

"I'm sure you didn't, miss. She falls off, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Rose with affectionate solicitude. "What do you want, Prissy?"

"I've got a letter for you, miss."

"I didn't hear the postman."

"The postman didn't bring it, miss," said Prissy, giving her the letter. "A boy. Said immejiet."

"It must be from--no." She was thinking of her lover as she looked at the letter, but she saw it was not his hand. She recognized the writing--it was Ruth's. "The envelope is not very clean, Prissy."

"So I told the boy when he brought it to the back door."

"The back door!" exclaimed Rose, rather bewildered.

"It's curious, isn't it, miss, that it wasn't sent by post?"

"Yes, it is. What did the boy say?"

"It's what I said first, miss. 'You've been and dropped it in the gutter,' I said. But he only laughed and said it was give to him this morning, and that he was to bring it to the servants' entrance and ask for Prissy."

"But why didn't he deliver it this morning?" asked Rose, her bewilderment growing.

"I don't know, miss. He's been playing in the streets all day, I expect. Anyway he said I was to give it you when nobody was looking. It's Miss Ruth's writing, miss."

Rose made no remark upon this, but asked: "Did he say who gave it to him?"

"A young lady he said, miss."

"That will do, Prissy."

"Can I do anything for you, miss?

"Nothing, thank you."

Prissy gone, Rose looked at the envelope, and saw written in one corner, "Read this when you are alone." Troubled and perplexed, she stood with the letter in her hand, but when the door was opened again and the doctor was announced she put it hastily into her pocket and went forward to meet him.

Dr. Roberts had attended Rachel for some years past, and took the deepest interest in her.

"Sleeping," he said, stepping to her side. He turned to Rose, and questioning her, learned why he had been sent for.

"She falls asleep," he said, with his fingers on Rachel's pulse. "Ah, you are awake," as Rachel sat upright. "Now let us see what is the matter. You are not in pain? No. That's good."

"It is only because Rose was so anxious," said Rachel. "There is really nothing the matter with me, doctor."

"But you feel weak and drowsy at times. We will soon set that right."

Dr. Roberts was one of those cheerful physicians whose bright ways always brightened his patients. "Make the best of a case," was a favorite saying of his, "not the worst."

He remained with Rachel a quarter of an hour, advised her to get to bed, gave her instructions as to food, ordered her a tonic, and took his leave. Rose went with him into the passage.

"There is no danger, doctor?"

"Not the slightest, my dear," he answered in a fatherly manner. "But I would advise perfect rest. Don't tell her anything exciting. She must not be worried. Get a humorous story, and read it to her. Make her laugh. Let everything be bright and cheerful about her. But I need not say that. It always is, eh? If you have any troubles keep them to yourself. But what troubles should a young girl like you have?"

He met Aaron at the street door.

"Ah, Mr. Cohen, I have been to see your wife--in a friendly way."

"She is not ill?" asked Aaron in an anxious tone, stepping back.

"No--a little weak, that is all. Don't go up to see her; I have just left her, and she will think there is something the matter, when there's nothing that cannot be set right in a few days. She wants tone, that is all, and rest, and perfect freedom from excitement. That is essential. Such a day as this, flattering and pleasant as it must have been, is not good for her. Keep her mind at rest, let her hear nothing to disturb her, speak of none but cheerful subjects to her, and she will be herself again in a week. Follow my advice, and there is not the least cause for anxiety."