"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."