She had been visiting with her husband the previous evening, and the housemaid had also been out, thus leaving every opportunity for Jarvis to indulge in the stimulants she had stolen.
Mrs. Reston also remembered that on returning home she had found the key of the cellaret, which she had missed, lying on the floor close to the side-board, and the door locked as usual. Symonds had come in to prayers alone, and said that cook had gone to bed with a bad headache.
"Send Jarvis to me as soon as she comes down," she said to the housemaid, who answered her summons.
"It's too disappointing," she soliloquised; "I felt so positive that Jarvis would do well; I am sure there is nothing I have left undone to help her in her attempts to abstain." Kind, good Mrs. Reston, there is just one thing you have left undone; but when you shortly learn how you have failed to do all that was necessary to effectually help your weak sister, will you have sufficient courage and love to enable you to remedy the past and help to save a soul from perishing in its sin?
There was a knock at the door, and Jarvis entered with swollen, downcast eyes and face redder than usual.
"Well, Jarvis," said Mrs. Reston, after a moment's silence.
"I've got nothing to say, ma'am; I can go as soon as you like," sullenly replied the woman.
Mrs. Reston sighed. Was it any use to give Jarvis another trial, or should she send her away at once? She looked at the half-averted face and the nervous hands that were busily folding and unfolding the hem of her apron, and with a wave of pity surging in her heart for the sinning, suffering creature before her, said quickly and tenderly:
"But I don't want you to go, Jarvis. I want to save you, if you will let me. Come, tell me what else I can do for you."
Jarvis looked up, half doubting the evidence of her senses.