She was a little late; but so were Dr Everett and his daughters, who were just coming out of their own gate when she came in sight.
“It won’t be the deacon, at any rate,” thought Fidelia.
They waited for her, and she gave the book. It was as Mrs Stone had said—the doctor had thought the book lost, and was glad to see it again.
“Thank you, Miss Faithful. You generally do bring pleasant things and thoughts when you come. And how is Miss Eunice?” But, seeing her face, he did not wait for the answer. “Of course she is well, or you would not be here;” and they moved down the street together.
Afterwards, when Mrs Stone asked Fidelia if they had a good meeting, she said—“Oh, yes, I guess so! Dr Everett took the lead.” But that was all she could tell. She did not even remember the hymns that were sung, because she did not sing them. When she left the schoolroom her heart was beating so heavily, that she had to wait till they reached the house before she found voice to say—
“Are you busy, Dr Everett? I should like to speak to you before I go home.”
Dr Everett opened the door of his office, and she went in there. He lighted a lamp, and sat down opposite to her.
“Well, dear, what have you to say to me?”
“You know—Eunice—”
There is no need to go over it all again. What could the doctor say that Eunice had not said before? That they should be glad and thankful that no time of terrible suffering lay before her—that years of happy life might remain to her, though she could never be strong. That was his brother’s opinion, decidedly. And then he added a few words of sympathy and encouragement.