"I'll go on to Boston and fetch him straight on here. Days are precious
when a man's eyesight is to be considered."
And he was as good as his word. Dr Everett saw him in a little while
driving his sleigh at a great pace, over half-bare roads, in order to
catch the afternoon train.
"He is something more than just a rich man," said he to himself, "though
I never thought it before."
The next day Dr Blake came. He was an old man to look at, but he spoke
like a young man, and had the quick, cheerful ways of youth; and he had
wonderful bright eyes of his own. He saw a good deal more in Deacon
Ainsworth's house than the eyes of Jabez, which he had come to see, and
his prescription went beyond them. He spoke encouragingly of the eyes,
and gave a word of advice about other matters.
Jabez was to do his best to get strong and well, and he must be cheerful
and hopeful. Nothing was so bad for a fellow as letting himself be
downhearted. His eyesight was safe, as the doctor believed, but it
would depend on the state of the patient's general health as to how soon
and how rapid the change for the better in the eyes would be--and so on.
To Dr Everett he said--
"A solemn sort of place, Deacon Ainsworth's house, isn't it? The lad
ought to get a change. Is there nowhere you could send him after a
little while?"
He said this at Dr Everett's tea-table, where on that occasion Fidelia
was seated with the rest.
"Let Eunice have him for a little while," said she to Dr Everett.
"All right," said he, and explained the situation to Dr Blake.
"I have no doubt such a change will do all that can be wished, if Miss
Eunice is at all like her sister," said he politely.
So to Eunice Jabez came after awhile; and doubtless Eunice felt it to be
her duty to improve the occasion also. But her way was not quite the
deacon's way. It went farther, and circumstances gave it a better
chance. For Jabez had got a glimpse of daylight by this time, and the
change was wonderfully pleasant to him. His heart was tender too, and
the good seed of the Word which Miss Eunice let fall now and then, fell
into ground prepared for it, and in course of time it took root there
and sprang up, and, though Eunice did not live to see it, bore fruit a
hundred-fold. Through the ministry of pain and a terrible dread, the
Lord Himself had dealt with him, and a great light had begun to shine
through the darkness, even before he knew that that which he feared was
not to come upon him.
It was a good while before he told this to any one but Miss Eunice. It
was years before he put into words, for other men to hear, the vow which
he uttered to the Lord on the very first day when, standing by the fence
in Miss Eunice's garden, he could look over the field and the river to
the hills beyond--the vow to be His servant for ever.
In the meantime the winter school, in which Fidelia had won golden
opinions, came to an end; and the leisure which this brought to her was
as good for her as the constant occupation of teaching had been when the
winter school began. She hardly knew what to do with her new liberty at
first. She made plans for the wise disposal of her time, but these were
for the future. For the present time she was content to go out and in,
to read or work, to visit or receive visitors with a free mind; and her
chief work which was also her chief pleasure, was taking care of Eunice.
Not that Eunice was supposed to need especial care just then. She was
not strong, but her strength was not tried. Household matters were
altogether in the hands of Mrs Stone, and in better hands they could
not have been. Eunice was quite content that it should be so--a sign,
if Fidelia had considered it, that she was no longer able for the
lightest of her household work, which she had made her pleasure during
all the years which they had been alone together. But Fidelia, at this
time, had no thought of fear. It seemed to her almost as if the old
happy days, when she, at least, had no dread of coming sorrow, had come
again, with only the comfortable difference which the presence of Mrs
Stone made in the house; and she saw no reason why this quiet happy life
might not continue for years.
Jabez came often up the hill, after his return home, as soon as he had
strength to do so--a little too often, his grandfather was afraid.
"Don't you wear your welcome out up there," said he. "Why don't you
go--" here or there, or to the other place which the deacon named.
Jabez troubled no one by his frequent comings and goings, for which his
studies, to which he had returned with quiet determination, made reason
sufficient. He had had a talk with his grandfather about this in the
beginning of the winter. He was going to college--that was certain.
No, he did not quite know what was to come after. He "was going to be
President of the United States maybe," he said gravely; and at any rate
he was going to make himself fit for it.
His grandfather was by no means convinced of the wisdom of the boy's
resolution--indeed, he "worried about it considerable," as Mrs
Ainsworth had occasion to know. He could not refuse to let him attend
the winter school, though he had told him it would pay him better to be
splitting reeds in Weir's swamp than in going to a woman's school--and
"only a girl at that," said the deacon, with good-humoured contempt.
Since his illness Jabez had been allowed to do as he pleased, but his
grandfather worried about him still. Few boys had a better chance than
Jabez had. There was the farm--not a large one, but as good land as any
in Halsey--which might be his as soon as ever the old folks were gone.
It might be his now as far as management and profits were concerned.
All the old folks would want was a home there while they lived. Jabez
did not know his privileges--and so on.
"You go and talk with the doctor about it, and with Miss Eunice," said
his wife, a little weary of the constant theme. So the deacon "freed
his mind" to Miss Eunice, making a grievance of his idea that she and
Fidelia encouraged Jabez in his determination to turn his back on the
old place.
"Not directly, may be," said he, qualifying his words after a glance at
Fidelia's face. "But you set so much by books, and a chance of getting
an education, and all that--nothing else seems to count, and Jabez has
always thought so much of you both. Well, I am not blaming you. But
when a boy like Jabez begins to talk of going to college and being
President of the United States, there does not seem to be much hope of
him."
"Why not?" said Fidelia, throwing down the gauntlet, or, rather taking
it up. "All the Presidents of the United States were boys once, and a
good many of them were just such boys as Jabez--farmers' boys or poor
men's sons who had to push their own way."
"But that is just what Jabez needn't do. I am not rich, but neither am
I so poor that there need be any hardship in getting along right here in
Halsey. The fact is, he is a sight too ambitious. He thinks all he's
got to do is to go to college and come out again, and things will fix
themselves to suit him. But he'll fail as like as not; and then where
will he be?"
"He can come home then to the farm," said Fidelia, laughing. "But he is
not going to fail."
"Deacon Ainsworth," said Miss Eunice gently, "I am sorry you feel so
about Jabez. I know it will be a trouble to you if he should go."
"Oh, well, as to that, I have other grandsons!"
"Yes, and I am glad for your sake it is so. Jabez, is not going to be
President. But if you think of it, almost all the men of mark in our
country that you or I know much about have begun by being just such boys
as Jabez."
"Yes, indeed!" said Fidelia; and she went over the names of half a dozen
who were prominent men in the State, and in other States.
"Yes, and even better men and greater men, in your opinion and in mine,
than some of these," said Miss Eunice gently; and in her turn she gave
the names of a good many distinguished ministers who had begun life as
farmers' boys, and the names of missionaries in whom they took interest
for their work's sake, as well.
Deacon Ainsworth did not get much help from Miss Eunice, nor from Dr
Everett either.
"Whether Jabez is fit to make a scholar remains to be seen," said the
doctor. "But he has the fever on him, and he is bound to try."
"I know he is a smart boy," said the deacon dolefully.
"He isn't a boy any longer. And I think he sees his way clear before
him. You can't keep him at home on the farm, deacon, and you may as
well let him go, and help him along all you can."
All this had been at the beginning of the winter. Jabez had gone to
school, and in the spring the deacon saw that he must let him go his own
way. As to helping him along--that had to be considered. But in the
meantime, till he should get strong again, Jabez was permitted to do as
he liked. He had changed very much since the beginning of the winter,
especially since his illness. He looked less like an overgrown boy, and
more like a lank and loose-jointed young man, who did not know quite
what to do with his hands or feet in certain circumstances, and who was
in danger of slouching somewhat, and of getting a stoop in his
shoulders, unless some one took him in hand. Mrs Stone did him this
kindness, and to good purpose.
He changed in other ways. He talked less, and it is to be supposed,
thought more. But, though he was rather silent than otherwise, he was
as cheerful as ever, and more gentle and considerate at home. His
grandfather could see the difference, and acknowledged a hope that with
his help the boy might come out right at last. His help at this time
was given in a way that Jabez could appreciate.
It was the grandfather this time who proposed to Miss Eunice that she
should let Jabez have her garden again. He was afraid of the mischief
found for idle hands, and he could not be satisfied that in his books
Jabez might find enough work to keep him out of any temptation to
idleness. So the proposal about the garden was made by him.
Jabez had no objection. The garden had paid well last year, and would
do better this year, he thought; and he knew that as much as he ought to
do with his eyes, in the way of study, would not be hindered by the work
of the garden. So he sat and listened while his grandfather set the
matter in all lights, and assented quietly to all arrangements made.
Fidelia was listening also, and watching Jabez. His silent and smiling
assent to all that was agreed on,--so different from the boyish
self-assertion which had amused them last year,--made her wonder. His
manner to his grandfather also was very different.
"Yes," said Eunice, when Fidelia spoke of this to her, "Jabez is
changed. His sickness has been blessed to him."
"His sickness, or something else, is making a man of him," said Mrs
Stone. "The world will hear of Jabez before he dies."
"He is going to be President," said Fidelia laughing. "One thing is
sure. He is getting beyond _my_ teaching. I shall have to look out, or
I shall be left behind."
There was more truth in Fidelia's admission than she knew. Jabez had
indeed "taken a new departure." He had a new motive for work, and he
worked better. He had no troubled thoughts as to what he was to do, or
as to how he was to do it. He knew all would go well with him, because
his life's work, and his life itself, belonged to Him who had all things
at His disposal, and Whose promise was sure that "all things shall work
together for good" to His children.
He could speak to Miss Eunice about these things when she encouraged him
to do so; he could not so easily speak to Fidelia. It was about their
reading, as it had always been, and about the garden, that he had much
to say to her for a time, and there was enough to say about both.
Gardening was pleasant enough work as they did it. They did not make
hard work of it. Jabez sowed and planted; and, when the time came for
the disposal of the products of the garden, he was as pleased with the
results as he had been last year, though he did not show his pleasure
quite in the same way. His success meant even more to him than it had
done the last year, for he saw more clearly the way before him, and the
end of the way.
And, after all, the real work of the summer was not done in the garden.
A good deal of it was done in his grandfather's old buggy, which carried
here and there the garden products for the benefit of the summer
visitors, who were this year more numerous than ever. One book, and
sometimes more than one, in covers of thick brown paper, found a place
beneath the cushion; and the deacon's trustworthy old horse was allowed
to take his own way, and to choose his own pace along the hilly road
between Halsey Centre and Halsey Corners, while Jabez read or pondered
the wise words which they contained.
And more was done in the back porch when the time came for a pause in
the work of the garden. There on fine mornings Miss Eunice sat with her
needlework, and Fidelia with her books; and it was her part usually to
read for the benefit of the three. In this way were gone through a good
many books, and, among the rest, Fidelia's text-book on "The Evidences,"
which she acknowledged had been gone over rather hurriedly; and Butler's
"Analogy," which was one of the studies of the last year in the
seminary, to which she was beginning to think she might possibly go
again. Neither of these would help Jabez in the preliminary
examinations to which he looked forward. They might come in afterwards;
and he took part in the reading, and in the talk which grew out of it,
with an eagerness and a just appreciation which astonished the sisters.
All enjoyed these mornings. Even Mrs Stone brought sometimes her peas
to shell, or her beans to pick over, so that she might share the
pleasure and the profit of the reading with the rest.