“You don’t feel very well to-night, do you, dear? I guess you are over-tired, though you don’t know it. Or is there anything else the matter with you, Miss Fidelia?”
“If there is I don’t know, or at least I can’t talk about it.”
She rose and approached Miss Abby as she spoke, conscious that her words might sound strange; but turned to the window again, and stood looking out into the gloom, and there was silence for a time. Then Miss Abby said gently,—
“But you know just where to carry your trouble, dear. Whatever it may be, it isn’t beyond help, is it? How can it be to a Christian?”
Fidelia made no answer to this.
“Have you been living up to your privileges over there in the seminary, dear? I have always heard that it was a good place in which to grow in knowledge and in grace. You haven’t been so much taken up with your books as to neglect better things, have you? Fidelia, are you a Christian?”
There was a moment’s silence before Fidelia answered.
“I once thought I was a Christian. Now I do not know—I am not sure.”
“And so you got kind of down and discouraged, and no wonder, dear.”
Fidelia had to resist a strong impulse to rush away, when Miss Abby rose and came to the window.