“I had a letter from Justin the other day. Yes—I know Mary showed it to you. There was a private note in it that Mary did not see. Eunice, Justin wrote to me about Fidelia.”
He had moved away a little, and was watching Miss Eunice’s face with some anxiety. She was silent a moment, and she said gravely—“I am not sure that it was wise in him to do so.”
“You are not surprised?”
“I am surprised that he should have written to you. I am not surprised at what he had to say—if it is as I think. He spoke to me before he went away.”
“He spoke to you?” said the doctor in astonishment, coming forward and sitting down again. “And Fidelia?”
“No,” answered Eunice gravely; “she is too young. I would not let him speak; and indeed he had not the chance. I would not have her disturbed by any such thoughts.”
“You are right. Justin was a bold man to venture to speak to you—about your sister. She is worth waiting for, if he have the courage to wait this time. Forgive me, Eunice—but I am angry with him.”
“You must not be angry with Justin for my sake. That is all past, Dr Everett—quite past. I did not quite know it myself until I saw him. Yes, I own I was a little afraid at the thought of his coming. But he was quite changed—another man. A better man perhaps than the Justin I loved when I was young, but different. Oh, yes, I love him still, in another way! You must see how differently, since I can say this to you.”
Dr Everett rose and walked several times up and down the room. Then Eunice spoke again.
“There is something which I ought to have told you long ago, for I have seen that you have been feeling hard toward your brother because of me. I had written to set him free from his promise to me, long before I heard that he was going to be married. I could not leave them, you know, and could not bear that he should feel himself bound to me and regret it. I do not deny that I felt his marriage as a blow. But all that has been long past. I never grudged him any happiness he may have had, nor any happiness that may come to him. But I will not have my Fidelia disturbed by thoughts of him, for years to come. Why did he write to you?”