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 circ.u.mstances 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 a.s.sented quietly to all arrangements made.

Fidelia was listening also, and watching Jabez. His silent and smiling a.s.sent to all that was agreed on,--so different from the boyish self-a.s.sertion 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 "a.n.a.logy," 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 sh.e.l.l, or her beans to pick over, so that she might share the pleasure and the profit of the reading with the rest.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"SO HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP."

And so the spring days pa.s.sed, 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 G.o.d 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 inst.i.tution 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."