There was a hard time before Jabez. Rheumatic fever was among the least
of the troubles suggested as possible in his case by his grandfather,
when he came shivering home from the mill-pond that night. But that was
happily averted by the prompt and skilful treatment of Dr Everett,
after just enough of suffering to make Jabez ever for the future rather
more sympathetic with the aches and pains of his grandfather.
Jabez, however, was not to escape his share of discipline; and his
trouble came, as most people's troubles seem to come, in the way which
is hardest to bear. He did not have "the long spell of rheumatism"
which his grandfather had predicted, but he had what was worse.
Inflammation settled in the lad's eyes, and for a time he suffered great
pain. He could have borne the pain patiently, even cheerfully. That
which tried his courage and brought him low was the darkness--the
darkness and the horrible doubt whether he was ever to see the light
again.
He need not have suffered from this fear. Dr Everett never really
feared blindness for him, and always spoke cheerfully to him about soon
being well again.
"But that is the way the doctors have of letting a fellow down easy,"
thought Jabez, taking less comfort than he might have done from the
doctor's words.
No visitors were admitted except those whom the doctor allowed to come,
and every day seemed like a week to Jabez, and the nights were longer
still. In the daytime he could hear his grandmother moving about the
rooms, and the voices of chance comers and goers to the house. At night
there was no sound but the rush of the wind, or the barking of his dog
Buff outside; and within the ceaseless tick-tack of the tall clock in
the corner, which said to him all manner of solemn things which he could
not forget.
His grandmother made him nice things to eat, and his grandfather sat
beside him a little while many times a day, and both were as good to him
as good could be. His grandfather was faithful as well as kind, and
reminded him of past misdeeds--the sins of his youth, he called them--
and warned him of worse things that were in store for him unless he
turned from his evil ways. It was "hitting a fellow when he was down,"
Jabez thought, but he listened in silence to all he had to say. Indeed,
through all these dark days he lay without a word, fighting his battle
with his fears and his rebellious murmurs alone, asking help from no
one.
Fidelia came in to see him for a minute or two every night on her way
home from school, and gave him a summary of school work and school
events generally, and enlarged more than would have been wise at another
time on the amusing incidents of the day, for the sake of bringing a
smile to his sober face. But even Fidelia got few words from him, and
it was a good while before she came to see how miserable the poor fellow
was in his solitude; and even when she saw it she did not know how to
help him.
"What are you thinking about, Jabez?" said she one night, when she had
scarcely got from him even the usual response. Seeing the look on his
face, she did not wait for an answer. "To-morrow is Saturday. I shall
bring down the books and have school here, if doctor will let me. Or
shall I bring Eunice? Yes, if it is a fine day I will bring Eunice.
She has wanted to come for ever so long, but she has waited till she
should be able to have a good long visit with you. If any one can do
you good, Eunice can," added Fidelia, laughing, though, seeing Jabez's
sober face, she did not feel much like it.
"I shall be glad to have Miss Eunice come and see me," said Jabez
gravely.
A good while after that, Jabez told Fidelia what he had been thinking
about that afternoon, and indeed what he had been thinking about most of
the time during these sorrowful nights and days.
"The `blackness of darkness for ever.' Yes, I did feel hard. I thought
I was going to be blind; and I would a great deal rather have died, only
I was afraid."
Eunice came to see him, but even Eunice did not seem to help him much on
her first visit. Before her second visit, something had happened. Mr
Swift had paid Dr Everett a visit, and they had had a little talk
together.
The doctor owned that he was anxious about Jabez. No, he was not afraid
he was going to die. It was his eyes he was in doubt about.
"Blind?" said Mr Swift. "He'd better die."
"Only one can't die till his time comes. Blind? No, I am not afraid of
utter blindness. But I almost think it would be easier for Jabez to
find himself blind than with just sight enough to potter about and do a
little. He is a bright boy, Jabez, and ambitious."
"Dr Everett, do you suppose you know all that is to be known about the
eye and its diseases? Hadn't you better have help?"
"I'd be glad to have help. No; I don't know about the eye, as one who
has made it the study of his life must know it. If Jabez could only
pick up a little strength I would take him to Boston, and hear what Dr
Blake would have to say about him. It would be too great a risk just
now."
"Send for Dr Blake--why can't you?" said Mr Swift.
Dr Everett shook his head.
"I should like to. But it would cost a good deal; and Deacon Ainsworth
is not a rich man."
"Send for him. I'll stand the fee."
"It may be a big one."
"It won't cost more than my boy's funeral would have done," said Mr
Swift huskily. "Jabez saved me that, they say."