Fidelia did not have to take her homeward way through fields and woods
this time. Jabez was waiting with his grandfather's "team," which was
more than capable of taking her and all her belongings.
"All well, Jabez?" said Fidelia, as she caught sight of his smiling
sunburnt face.
"Oh, yes, pretty much as usual! Miss Eunice is first-rate;" and with
this satisfactory though rather indefinite assurance Fidelia had to
content herself till all things were safely bestowed in the wagon, and
they were on their way home. Then she did not need to ask questions.
Jabez had the faculty of putting a good deal of information into a few
words; and as she listened, Fidelia got a summary of all that had been
said and done--or at least attempted--in town-meeting, church-meeting,
and even in school meeting, with personal and domestic items of the
neighbours thrown in here and there as he went on. He had an interested
and appreciative listener, and he knew it and did his best to be at the
same time comprehensive and brief.
"And the garden, Jabez? I hope that has been a success," said Fidelia
at last.
"Well, yes--pretty middling;" and then a brief but clear and
satisfactory statement of the sowing and planting, the transplanting,
watering, and hoeing which had followed; of what the bugs and worms had
taken, and what had come to maturity; of how all had in general been
disposed of, and the net results in dollars and cents.
It was not a large sum, but it was the first money that Jabez had ever
earned--that is, it was the first he had earned for himself, though he
had done a good many fair days' work for his grandfather. He had all he
needed as to food, clothes, and schooling. He had been as well off as
most boys in the state; and the boys in the state where Jabez lived were
bound to believe that nowhere in the world were the boys better off than
they were. But Jabez had never before owned a tenth of the money which
by cents and dimes he had been accumulating through the summer; and his
dollars meant more to him by a great deal than his first ten thousand--
should he ever possess such a sum--could possibly do.
"It isn't so much, but it is a beginning. I tell you, Fidelia, it feels
good to be earning money for yourself--to be independent and to kind o'
see your way clear. If I were to set out for it, I could be a rich man
before I died."
"Would it pay, do you suppose?" said Fidelia gravely.
"Well, judging by the pains folks take to get rich, it ought to pay.
There would have to be a good many other things along with it to make it
amount to--well, to satisfaction."
Fidelia laughed, partly at his way of expressing himself, and partly at
the extreme gravity of his countenance.
"I expect more from you, Jabez, than just to die a rich man. Many can
do as much as that."
"Oh, well, I say before I die; but I mean a good while before, so that I
should have the benefit a spell! I say I _could_ do it."
"I hope you haven't let your lettuce and cucumbers put your Nepos and
Euclid out of your head. If I were you, I would make up my mind to be a
learned man rather than a rich man, though, as you remarked, there would
have to be something else along, to make even that amount to
satisfaction."
"And better be a wise man than either one or the other. That would be
about the right thing to end off with, wouldn't it?" said Jabez, looking
up with a smile. "But about Nepos--I've tackled him; and I find him
pretty tough. As for Euclid--I've walked through the first four books
without a hitch. I've had considerable satisfaction out of him. Give
me any proposition you like--well, some time, as we've got almost home.
And I've never asked you a word about what _you_ have been doing. I
have thought about you often enough."
"That may wait too; I haven't done very much."
"But if Miss Eunice keep so pretty well, you're going back again, aren't
you?"
Fidelia turned on him a startled look. She had been at ease of late
with regard to her sister, partly because she had been much occupied,
and partly because of the cheerful tone of her sister's letters.
Jabez's words were spoken just as they had reached the top of the hill,
where, on her last return home, she had caught sight of Dr Everett; and
a sudden pang of the fear that had seized her then came back upon her
now. She forgot to answer the lad's question, and took little heed of
all that he was saying as they went down the hill.
But when they turned the little curve which the road made round a
projecting rock, and came in sight of the house, her heart leaped up
with a sense of relief, and a rush of happy tears came to her eyes. For
at the gate, serene and smiling, stood Eunice, waiting. The light which
fell on the expressive face came trembling through the boughs of the elm
which waved and murmured above. But Fidelia only saw the face.
Afterwards it all came back to her--the vine and the pale blossoms that
lingered, and the flickering shadows never to be forgotten; but it was
her sister's face that she saw first.
She might have been more beautiful in her youth which was past, but now
she was more than beautiful. The "afterwards" had come--of the
chastening, "not joyous, but grievous," which she had endured in her
youth; and the "peaceable fruits" of the promise were appearing. Very
fragile she looked, but cheerful and bright.
"To think that I ever should have been afraid for my Eunice!" said
Fidelia with a sob, before her foot touched the ground.
"Well, dear, safe home!" was her sister's gentle greeting.
"Home at last!" Fidelia answered.
Few words were spoken, either of welcome or rejoicing. Few were needed.
It was not the way of either of them to say out easily all that was in
her heart; and in a little they were sitting as quietly as they sat that
last day, when Dr Everett brought Fidelia home. It was spring-time
then; and now the summer was nearly over--the summer which had done
something for Eunice, as her sister clearly saw, but which, even to
herself, she could not name.
She was not so much stronger as Fidelia had hoped to find her. There
was the same paleness, with the same quick flush coming and going on her
cheek when anything moved her, beautiful but sad to see. She had been
peaceful then, even cheerful, but there had been some tokens that the
peace had been striven for, and had come slowly, perhaps to go away
again. Now it was assured. And Fidelia said again to herself, "How
could I have been afraid?"
As Eunice went on to tell how, after all, Mrs Stone had decided not to
delay her departure after the day appointed, Fidelia was recalling with
sorrowful amazement her troubled thoughts about Dr Justin and Miss
Avery, and her doubts as to how Eunice might feel when she came to know.
Neither the one nor the other, nor both together, could harm her, nor
even trouble her peace. "Nor any one or anything else in the world,"
she added in her heart.
"I think I am a little glad that Mrs Stone went, after all," Eunice was
saying, when Fidelia came back to the present again. "I am glad to have
you to myself a little while: you must have a great deal to tell me
after so long a time, and we won't hurry over it. It is good to have
you at home again."
"It is good to be at home, though they were all very good to me in
Eastwood."
"You are not looking very rosy even yet," said Eunice gravely.
"Oh, I am perfectly well; and so I was when I went there, only I was
tired. Yes, I liked every one of them. They were all very good to me."
"And the visitors?"
"I liked them pretty well. I envied them a little, I am afraid. It was
silly of me, wasn't it, and wicked? But I have got over it, and I don't
suppose I shall ever be exposed to the same temptation again--I mean, I
have seen the last, of them, I guess--of Miss Avery at any rate. I am
glad too that Mrs Stone went away for awhile, though I would like to
see her. What is she like?"
"She is good, and sensible, and strong. Some people might think her
hard at first not knowing her well--but she is not hard. She has been
in some hard spots since she used to take care of me as a baby, and she
might have grown hard and sour also, if it had not been, as she says,
`for the grace of God.' But, hard or not, I love her dearly. She suits
me."
"You must have been glad to see her again."
"Yes; when she came I was glad. I was not altogether glad at the
thought of her coming. I suppose I was afraid a little of the old times
coming back too clearly, and that I might be troubled and unsettled by
the sight of her. But it has not been so--far otherwise," added Eunice
with a smile.
A momentary shadow had passed over her face, but Fidelia forgot it in
seeing the brightness that followed it; and she sat thinking about it in
silence, till the gate opened, and Susie Everett came in. But as they
sat the next morning in the back porch, looking out on the large garden,
the subject of Mrs Stone's relations to them was renewed.
"I don't suppose that Ruby will be away long, and before she comes I
want you to understand how it is with her, and just what she would like
to do. Of course you are going back to the seminary next year?"
"Of course I would like to go, if ways and means will permit I would
like to graduate with my class."
"I am afraid you have worked too hard, dear."
"No, not too hard; but I don't think I worked in the best way. I should
do differently next year. At least I should try."
"Tell me about it, dear."