Part 23 (1/2)
”No; I do not look for that. And I don't think Justin quite knows.”
”You are not feeling worse, Eunice?”
”No--oh, no! I am better in many ways. I do not trouble myself about my health any more. I hope I am willing either to stay or to go. As for my Fidelia--why, she will be as safe, and by-and-by she will be as happy without me as with me, thank G.o.d!”
There was a pause of several minutes, and then Dr Everett said--
”I had a letter from Justin the other day. Yes--I know Mary showed it to you. There was a private note in it that Mary did not see. Eunice, Justin wrote to me about Fidelia.”
He had moved away a little, and was watching Miss Eunice's face with some anxiety. She was silent a moment, and she said gravely--”I am not sure that it was wise in him to do so.”
”You are not surprised?”
”I am surprised that he should have written to you. I am not surprised at what he had to say--if it is as I think. He spoke to me before he went away.”
”He spoke to you?” said the doctor in astonishment, coming forward and sitting down again. ”And Fidelia?”
”No,” answered Eunice gravely; ”she is too young. I would not let him speak; and indeed he had not the chance. I would not have her disturbed by any such thoughts.”
”You are right. Justin was a bold man to venture to speak to you--about your sister. She is worth waiting for, if he have the courage to wait this time. Forgive me, Eunice--but I am angry with him.”
”You must not be angry with Justin for my sake. That is all past, Dr Everett--quite past. I did not quite know it myself until I saw him.
Yes, I own I was a little afraid at the thought of his coming. But he was quite changed--another man. A better man perhaps than the Justin I loved when I was young, but different. Oh, yes, I love him still, in another way! You must see how differently, since I can say this to you.”
Dr Everett rose and walked several times up and down the room. Then Eunice spoke again.
”There is something which I ought to have told you long ago, for I have seen that you have been feeling hard toward your brother because of me.
I had written to set him free from his promise to me, long before I heard that he was going to be married. I could not leave them, you know, and could not bear that he should feel himself bound to me and regret it. I do not deny that I felt his marriage as a blow. But all that has been long past. I never grudged him any happiness he may have had, nor any happiness that may come to him. But I will not have my Fidelia disturbed by thoughts of him, for years to come. Why did he write to you?”
”He gave me no particular reason. I think it was partly because he was not happy in keeping a secret from me. Foolish fellow! I knew how it was with him before he knew it himself. I was anxious only to get him away before he should betray himself to her.”
”He did not speak to her.”
”No. I think, too, he wished to bespeak for her a brother's care, now and always. That was foolish too. I do not think I love my own daughters better than I love Fidelia.”
”I know it. I am sure of it; and I shall feel thankful that when I leave her she will be in your care.”
There was silence between them for awhile. Then Eunice said--
”Dr Everett, had you any special reason for telling me this?”
”For a time I hesitated, lest I might hurt you. But I felt that it would be wrong to conceal from you anything that might affect your sister's future.”
”It is all in G.o.d's hands. I leave it there. But I will not have Fidelia disturbed now, nor for years to come,” repeated Eunice.
”But not for _many_ years, Eunice? Still, you are wise. If he were to speak now, or soon, it would end all for him. Fidelia would be shocked and offended for your sake. And indeed it would be wrong for other reasons.”
”We will leave it all, Dr Everett. We will not speak of this again.
Say to Justin,--if you say anything,--that he must wait.”
”Eunice, will you let me say one thing more? I confess that I was hard on Justin long ago. I did not know that you had set him free from his promise, and I wrote to him, telling him that it would not be wise for himself or pleasant for me that he should bring his wife to visit us at that time, as he spoke of doing. I was hard on him. He did not write for a long time, but he forgave me and wrote first. I thought then he was not happy in his marriage. He told me something about it when he came home last. His wife was the adopted daughter of our uncle--a spoiled child, I fear. She loved him, and, I suppose, let him see it.