“And the money, you see, won’t be wasted, because it was useful where it was sent. There is some thought of quietly getting up a subscription, under the name of a testimonial. Mr. Secker, the suggestor, will acquaint Mrs. Prout with it, and ask whether she would like a silver cup or the money; and of course she will prefer the latter. Only half-sovereigns will be asked, but those who like to give more may do so unknown to all but Mr. Secker, as there will be no published subscription list.”
“All the better,” said I. “There are too few who—
“‘Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.’”
“More than you think, though, perhaps. There!—now you get a glimpse of the church. Your next wish will be to be in it; but you must not attempt too much at first. In a little while, I hope you may manage it.”
Having nearly reached the turnpike, we turned about on our homeward course. And thus ended my pleasant drive. Had I had my choice, my frame of mind would have been serious; as it was, it was cheerful. I felt tired and shaken, but less so than I expected. On saying so to Phillis, she remarked—
“Said so—didn’t I? My ’pinion is, if you’d gone afore, it never would have hurted ye.”
Kind words cost little: and I had had a good many. I could not help thinking, had Eugenia been alive, how she would have sped me forth with fond solicitude, and tenderly hailed my return!—with some word of thankfulness, too, to Him in whose hand are the issues of life and death—some cheery gratulation that we were to be spared yet a little longer to each other.
But I called to mind the substance of a nice little tract called “The Scales Adjusted.” Things are often equalized by roughs and smooths being set against one another. And, though snubbed by my maid, I felt that in this instance my good things predominated.