"SO HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP."
And so the spring days passed, and the summer days shone over a happy
homestead. Many a time Fidelia said to herself that she desired no
other work and no other pleasure than just to live as they were living
now. And it did seem as though God was going to permit it for a time.
Her "bad dream" had vanished; if the thought of it came back now and
then, the sharpness had gone out of the pain which still touched her a
little. She had not forgotten altogether. Dr Justin had not allowed
her to forget.
He had written frequently--not to her, but to her sister--kind, pleasant
letters; the excuse for the first being to send her tidings of the
friend whose address had been asked and given on that last day, and whom
he had visited at her request.
He had found her a cripple and nearly helpless, but striving to do her
part still in the great educational institution to which her health and
strength had been given in her youth. Then he added a few good and true
words about the hope and the help which had sustained this friend amid
all her labours and suffering--"as they are doubtless sustaining you,
dear Eunice, in the quiet of your favoured home."
Then he sent his respects to Mrs Stone, and added--"I was not surprised
to hear that Miss Faithful had chosen to remain at home with you; and
may the comfort and joy which her presence must give you be given to her
by the best Comforter when her day of trial shall come!" In a little
while he wrote again, sending also a book which he was sure Eunice would
like; and after that he wrote with no excuse at all.
He told them about his new work in the college to which he had been
appointed professor, and about his friends, and his pleasant social
relations, and his outside work. Eunice did not answer all his letters,
but she took pleasure in receiving them. Kind brotherly letters they
were, which Fidelia read, and which they discussed a little, as they
might have discussed the letters of Dr Everett himself, if he had been
away from and had written, to them.
So the spring passed, and the summer wore on, till August came with
burning days and sultry nights, which told on the strength of Eunice,
already failing, so slowly that the eyes that watched her so lovingly
did not see it for a time. Even Dr Everett saw no cause for alarm, nor
Mrs Stone, who watched her more closely than he did.
But Eunice knew that the end was drawing near. Afterwards they all
wondered that they had not seen more clearly, remembering looks and
words which they might have taken for a sign that the joy of heaven was
not far away. But so quietly passed the days, with so little to disturb
or tire her, that she herself did not know how rapidly her strength was
passing from her.
The close days of early August oppressed her, and made the change for
the worse suddenly visible to them all. The end did not come without a
warning, as Dr Everett had thought it might come. There were days and
nights of waiting before her still, when even Fidelia saw the tokens of
the last change. There was no great suffering, only weariness and
exhaustion, borne sweetly and patiently, and a joyful waiting for "the
rest which remains."
There was a word spoken now and then to console or to encourage her
sister, who waited quietly beside her.
"You know all I wish for you, dear; I am not afraid for you. You are in
a Father's loving hand, and by-and-by, when your work is done, you will
come to me there," she said to her, murmuring the sentences at
intervals, as she had the strength to speak; and Fidelia could answer
firmly and smile brightly. For so deep was the peace and so sure the
trust of the dying, and so near the glory awaiting her, that no thought
of herself or her loss, or the lonely days that were before her, could
move her from the calm which had fallen upon her. All was peace with
her also.
Once, at the beginning of these last days, a word was spoken by Mrs
Stone.
"About Fidelia, Eunice? The time may come when she will long to know
what your wish would have been--have you ever said a word to her about--
Justin Everett?"
"No; I think there is nothing to be said. Yes, I know--afterwards she
would give heed to any word of mine. But it might not be the right
word. No; I can leave this, with all else that concerns her, in the
hands of a loving Father. He will guide her in this as in all things."
And so no care nor shadow of care came to darken these last days. Truly
her eyes said to them, when her lips could not utter the words: "I will
fear no evil, for Thou art with me." And, waiting and watching beside
her, Fidelia was for the time lifted above all fear or care or sorrow
for herself, and rejoiced in her sister's joy.