He said this at Dr Everett’s tea-table, where on that occasion Fidelia was seated with the rest.
“Let Eunice have him for a little while,” said she to Dr Everett.
“All right,” said he, and explained the situation to Dr Blake.
“I have no doubt such a change will do all that can be wished, if Miss Eunice is at all like her sister,” said he politely.
So to Eunice Jabez came after awhile; and doubtless Eunice felt it to be her duty to improve the occasion also. But her way was not quite the deacon’s way. It went farther, and circumstances gave it a better chance. For Jabez had got a glimpse of daylight by this time, and the change was wonderfully pleasant to him. His heart was tender too, and the good seed of the Word which Miss Eunice let fall now and then, fell into ground prepared for it, and in course of time it took root there and sprang up, and, though Eunice did not live to see it, bore fruit a hundred-fold. Through the ministry of pain and a terrible dread, the Lord Himself had dealt with him, and a great light had begun to shine through the darkness, even before he knew that that which he feared was not to come upon him.
It was a good while before he told this to any one but Miss Eunice. It was years before he put into words, for other men to hear, the vow which he uttered to the Lord on the very first day when, standing by the fence in Miss Eunice’s garden, he could look over the field and the river to the hills beyond—the vow to be His servant for ever.
In the meantime the winter school, in which Fidelia had won golden opinions, came to an end; and the leisure which this brought to her was as good for her as the constant occupation of teaching had been when the winter school began. She hardly knew what to do with her new liberty at first. She made plans for the wise disposal of her time, but these were for the future. For the present time she was content to go out and in, to read or work, to visit or receive visitors with a free mind; and her chief work which was also her chief pleasure, was taking care of Eunice.
Not that Eunice was supposed to need especial care just then. She was not strong, but her strength was not tried. Household matters were altogether in the hands of Mrs Stone, and in better hands they could not have been. Eunice was quite content that it should be so—a sign, if Fidelia had considered it, that she was no longer able for the lightest of her household work, which she had made her pleasure during all the years which they had been alone together. But Fidelia, at this time, had no thought of fear. It seemed to her almost as if the old happy days, when she, at least, had no dread of coming sorrow, had come again, with only the comfortable difference which the presence of Mrs Stone made in the house; and she saw no reason why this quiet happy life might not continue for years.
Jabez came often up the hill, after his return home, as soon as he had strength to do so—a little too often, his grandfather was afraid.
“Don’t you wear your welcome out up there,” said he. “Why don’t you go—” here or there, or to the other place which the deacon named.