“Yes; for some reasons I would like it. Mrs Stone is kind and good, and she does not seem like a stranger to me, though she has been away so many years. She is capable too, and I am not so strong as I used to be.”
“But you are well, Eunice? You are not afraid any more—of—”
Fidelia could not utter the word which rose to her lips—a word which, indeed, had never been uttered between them.
“Yes, I am well—for me. No, I am not afraid any more. But, dear, I own to have been lonesome last winter, and a little downhearted sometimes.”
“I ought to have been at home.”
“No, dear. It was all right; and it is best that you should go again next year for various reasons, rather than to wait. And, besides—”
Then Eunice went on to explain that, though not a rich woman, Mrs Stone had enough for her own wants, and more. She had no near ties of kindred, and no special work in the world to look forward to, and work she could find in Halsey more easily than anywhere else.
“And, dear, if I had been asked to plan for my own comfort, and for a chance to make going away again easy for you at the same time, I could not have asked for anything more suitable than this. The obligation and the comfort will be mutual. Yes, I like the plan.”
“Would it be for always, Eunice?”
Eunice smiled and shook her head.