Chapter Eleven.
A Sad Reality.
So one afternoon, when Eunice had gone to her room to rest, Fidelia followed her softly. As she paused a moment at the door, wondering if she were asleep, Eunice said—
“I see you, Fidelia; come in.” So Fidelia went in, and, as she stood over her sister, her trouble showed in her face. “What is it, dear? Are you not well?”
“Yes, I am well. But I am naughty, Eunice, and discontented, as I used sometimes to be when I was a little girl, and you used to send me away for a change.”
“Well, I am going to send you away again—too soon for my own pleasure; but, since it will be for your good, my darling, I must let you go.”
“I hope it may be for my good, Eunice. I am not good, but I will try to be good.”
“Fidelia, what is it? Something troubles you. Why, you are trembling! Are you cold? Sit down here beside me, and tell me what is the matter.”