The Levices' house stood well back upon its grounds, almost with an air of reserve in comparison with the rows of stately, bay-windowed houses that faced it and hedged it in on both sides. But the broad, sweeping lawns, the confusion of exquisite roses and heliotropes, the open path to the veranda, whereon stood an hospitable garden settee and chair, the long French windows open this summer's morning to sun and air, told an inviting tale.
As Dr. Kemp ascended the few steps leading to the front door, he looked around approvingly.
"Not a bad berth for the grave little bookworm," he mused as he rang the bell.
It was immediately answered by the "grave little bookworm" in person.
"I've been on the lookout for you for the past hour," he explained, leading him into the library and turning the key of the door as they entered.
It was a cosey room, not small or low, as the word would suggest, but large and airy; the cosiness was supplied by comfortable easy-chairs, a lounge or two, a woman's low rocker, an open piano, a few soft engravings on the walls, and books in cases, books on tables, books on stands, books everywhere. Two long lace-draped windows let in a flood of searching sunlight that brought to light not an atom of dust in the remotest corner.
It is the prerogative of every respectable Jewess to keep her house as clean as if at any moment a search-warrant for dirt might be served upon her.
"Will you not be seated?" asked Levice, looking up at Kemp as the latter stood drawing off his gloves.
"Is your wife coming down here?"
"No; she is in her room yet."
"Then let us go up immediately. I am not at leisure."
"I know. Still I wish to ask you to treat whatever ailments you may find as lightly as possible in her presence; she has never known anxiety or worry of any kind. It will be necessary to tell only me, and every precaution will be taken."
Here was a second one of this family of three wishing to take the brunt of the trouble on his shoulders, and the third had been bearing it secretly for some time. Probably a very united family, loving and unselfish doubtless, but the doctor had to stifle an amused smile in the face of the old gentleman's dignified appeal.
"Still she is not a child, I suppose; she knows of the nature of my visit?"
He moved toward the door.
"Ruth--my daughter, you know--was about to tell her as I left the room."
"Then we will go up directly."
Levice preceded him up the broad staircase. As they reached the landing, he turned to the doctor.
"Pardon my care, but I must make sure that Ruth has told her. Just step into the sitting-room a second," and the precautious husband went forward to his wife's bedroom, leaving the door open.
Standing there in the hallway, Kemp could plainly hear the following words:
--
"And being interested in nervous diseases," the peculiarly low voice was saying, "he told Father he would call and see you, --out of professional curiosity, you know; besides we should not like you to be often taken as you were last night, should we?"
"People with plenty of time on their hands," soliloquized the doctor, looking at his watch in the hallway.
"What is his name, did you say?"
"Dr. Herbert Kemp."
"What! Don't you know that Dr. Kemp is one of the first physicians in the city? Every one knows he has no time for curiosity. Nervous diseases are his specialty; and do you think he would come without--"
"Being asked?" interrupted a pleasant voice; the doctor had remembered the flight of time, and walked in unannounced.
"Keep your seat," he continued, as Mrs. Levice started up, the excited blood springing to her cheeks.
"You hardly need an introduction, Esther," said Levice. "You remember Dr.
Kemp from last night?"
"Yes. Don't go, Ruth, please; Jules, hadn't you something to do downstairs?"
Did she imagine for a moment that she could still conceal her trouble from his tender watchfulness? Great dark rings encircled her now feverishly bright eyes; her mouth trembled visibly; and as Ruth drew aside, her mother's shaking fingers held tight to her hand.
"I have nothing in the world to do," replied Levice, heartily; "I am going to sit right here and get interested."
"You will have to submit to a friendly cross-examination, Mrs. Levice," said the physician.
He drew a chair up before her and took both her hands in his. As Ruth relinquished her hold, she encountered a pair of pleasantly authoritative gray eyes, and instantly divining their expression, left the room.
