And Eunice was smiling a little over the words which the doctor had tried to make so hopeful, scarcely taking from them the comfort which he meant her to take.
“No anxiety!” repeated she. “Well, it is quite true. Why should I be anxious? It will be all right. I am glad he came, and that the visit is well over.”
And then she put away the last of her warm white loaves, and went slowly upstairs to rest for awhile.
When Fidelia came home in the afternoon she found her sister sleeping, and she saw something which she had rarely seen before—the traces of tears upon her cheeks. But as she stood looking down upon her—even before her eyes opened—a smile came to her lips.
“Well,” she said softly, as Fidelia stooped to kiss her, “have you had a good time?”
“Don’t you feel well, Eunice?”
“Just as usual. Why have you come home so early?”
“It is not so very early. We had tea sooner than usual, because— Lie still awhile, and I will make your tea.”
“I must have slept long, if it is time for tea. Oh, yes, I feel quite well! You must tell me all about your visit when I come down.”
Fidelia went to the window, and as she rolled up the blind and let the light of the sunset into the room, she said, without looking round,—