THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BOLAND AND EUNICE. PAGE 34
 
 J 
 
 A LEARNER IN LIFE'S SCHOOL 
 
 BY THE AUTHOB OP 
 
 "THE TOtTNG I^TMEN," "THI BOSEDAIJi BOOKS," " UNDEB TUB BXT- 
 
 LIGHT," arc. 
 
 1 Pastures lowly, waitings still, 
 Looks subdued to duty's will ; 
 Beverent, thoughtful, grave and sweet ; 
 These to wait on Christ are meet" 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY 
 713 BBOADWAT 
 
 1872
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1872, by 
 
 E. P. BUTTON, & CO., 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 VI. JOHKIAND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, SUFFOLK CO., H. T.
 
 "PZ 
 
 CO^TE^TS. 
 
 CHAPTERS TAOTt 
 
 L CONFLICTING DITTIES 5 
 
 n. AUNT EDITH'S PROPOSAL 15 
 
 HI. THE IMPOBTANT DECISION 27 
 
 IV. PLEASANT PROSPECTS 43 
 
 V. HOPES FULFILLED 54 
 
 VL HAPPY CHRISTMAS 71 
 
 VEL A CLOUD ARISES 83 
 
 Vni. THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LIXTNG 100 
 
 IX. BHODA 114 
 
 X. LENTEN LESSONS , 127 
 
 XI. ANXIOUS DATS 139 
 
 XH. A MEMORABLE WEEK 152 
 
 Xm. RANNET 166 
 
 XIV. INCIDENTS BY THE WAY 182 
 
 XV. PLEASANT THINGS 199 
 
 XVL " SWEET COUNSEL" 214 
 
 XVH. HOME AGAIN 225 
 
 (3) 
 
 622664
 
 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Conflicting Jputus. 
 
 " No fruit of cold neglect ; 
 But goodly purpose gone astray, 
 Where jealous care can scarce detect 
 The first divergence of the way." 
 
 [ANNEY ! Do make a little less 
 noise ! I can't hear myself think !" 
 The speaker was a girl, under 
 fourteen, who seemed indeed to be thinking 
 under difficulties. She was pacing up and 
 down the room, carrying a baby brother, 
 balanced in a peculiar manner upon her hip ; 
 while with the other hand she held a book, 
 outstretched as far as she could see the words, 
 to be out of reach of the little one, who was 
 
 (5)
 
 6 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 kicking and squirming in a vain attempt to 
 possess himself of it. 
 
 " Hie, ilia, illud :" repeated Eunice, conning 
 
 her declension. 
 
 ' Le, la, lud, 
 My horse is stuck in the mud !" 
 
 shouted the irrepressible Ranney, behind her, 
 pretending to urge up his stick horse, despe- 
 rately. The other children laughed merrily, 
 but Eunice was out of all patience. She put 
 the baby down upon the floor, and seized upon 
 the offender in no gentle mood. 
 
 " You are a perfect plague !" she cried : " and 
 if you don't let me study in peace, I'll see if I 
 cannot make you !" 
 
 " Stop pinching my arm !" returned Ranney, 
 with a grimace. Then hearing his mother's 
 step in the hall without, he suddenly realized 
 that he was very much hurt, and began to cry 
 accordingly ; the baby joining in with all his 
 might. 
 
 Mrs. Somers opened the door upon this 
 scene of confusion ; and, taking up the baby, 
 looked for an explanation. 
 
 " Eanney wouldn't let Eunice study a bit,"
 
 CONFLICTING DUTIES. 7 
 
 said little Bess, when no one else spoke ; 
 " and I guess she pinched him a little, but I 
 don't believe she meant to !" 
 
 Mrs. Somers glanced reproachfully at Eunice. 
 
 " You promised to take care of the children, 
 and amuse them while I was out. I thought I 
 had arranged to give you time enough for study 
 this evening, did I not ?" 
 
 " Yes, mother, but this was an extra lesson," 
 Eunice replied in some confusion. 
 
 " An extra lesson ?" Mrs. Somers picked 
 tip the Latin grammar, which had fallen to the 
 floor, in the strife. 
 
 " Then you could not resist the temptation 
 to begin Latin, Eunice ?" 
 
 " Well, mother, I could do it, I was sure I 
 could, at odd hours : I could have studied 
 a little, just now, as well as not, if Ranney had 
 not been so provoking !" 
 
 The expression might have been a stronger 
 one, had not Eunice perceived that her Aunt 
 Edith had entered the room. This lady was 
 making a brief visit at her sister's home ; and it 
 was on her account that Mrs. Somers had done
 
 8 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 such an unwonted thing as to go out for a walk 
 in the afternoon, and a call upon some old 
 friends. 
 
 " I know I am interrupting a whole train of 
 employment, in asking such a thing;" her 
 sister had said, mischievously, "but I don't 
 feel the least compunction ; it is a good thing 
 for you to have some one come and interrupt 
 you, once in a while ; you would work yourself 
 to death, else, I do believe." 
 
 Eunice was struck by this remark, and by 
 the recollection cf the unceasing round of cares 
 and labors in which her mother was occupied. 
 So she had joined quite heartily in urging her 
 mother to go out for the afternoon, declaring 
 that she could take care of the baby, and 
 of the other children, as well as not. 
 
 So she could have done, undoubtedly ; no 
 one could excel Eunice in amusing little folks, 
 when her heart was in the matter. It ,was 
 a lovely autumn afternoon, and she yielded to 
 the request of the young ones to " bring little 
 "Walter out of doors, and have a game with 
 them."
 
 CONFLICTING DUTIES. 9 
 
 All went on well for an hour or so, and 
 Eunice herself was enjoying the romp ; when 
 all at once the thought of her contraband Latin 
 lesson flashed upon her mind. 
 
 " There ! I meant to have learned it this 
 afternoon : I shall have all I can do in my study 
 hour with my History and Philosophy. Now 
 I shall fail : and then Roland will prim up his 
 lips to keep from smiling ! Hateful ! I wish 
 he would giggle right out, if he feels so much 
 like it!" 
 
 The thought of Roland's contempt, real or 
 imagined, was too much for Eunice ; she took 
 little Walter into the house, and essayed to do 
 two things at once. 
 
 But baby did not relish the change of pro- 
 gramme, and she was obliged to walk with him, 
 to amuse him. Then the other children, their 
 play being interrupted, followed her into the 
 house ; and we have seen the result. 
 
 The parents of Eunice were persons of in- 
 telligence and refinement, as well as of ster- 
 ling worth. Mr. Somers had been for some 
 years in poor health, which had greatly hindered
 
 10 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 his business; and, in consequence, the family 
 were in straitened circumstances. 
 
 It was not from any want of appreciation, on 
 the part of her parents, of the advantages of a 
 liberal education, that Eunice was obliged to 
 study by stealth. She was the eldest child; 
 and though it was at times very difficult for 
 her mother to spare her, nothing but the 
 demands of some unforeseen exigency was ever 
 allowed to interrupt her regular attendance at 
 the village academy. 
 
 But Mrs. Somers was obliged to depend a 
 good deal upon her daughter's help out of 
 school hours; and as Eunice was not very 
 strong, she was unwilling to have her take up 
 so many studies as to require much application 
 out of school. 
 
 This year the academy had come into the 
 hands of an excellent teacher, a Mr. Hale, who 
 had inspired all his pupils with a new ambition 
 in their studies. 
 
 Among other plans, he had formed a class of 
 girls in Latin, which was rather a new thing in 
 the village. Eunice was very anxious to join
 
 CONFLICTING DUTIES. 11 
 
 this class/but her parents had discouraged her 
 from doing so, for the reasons above men- 
 tioned. 
 
 Roland Wells, the Roland to whom we have 
 heard Eunice allude, was a near neighbor of 
 the Somers family : he attended the academy 
 also, and was in the same classes with Eunice 
 in English studies. 
 
 The two were pretty good friends, in general ; 
 but Eunice had confided to Roland her earnest 
 wish to enter the Latin class, and to her 
 surprise and chagrin, he had sided with her 
 parents in the matter. Eunice was vexed, and 
 took up the notion that he thought giils were 
 not competent to study Latin successfully ; and 
 it was all in vain that Roland protested he had 
 no such thought. 
 
 In fact, Eunice had set her heart upon taking 
 up the new study, and iu asking advice, she had 
 only sought approval, as people often do. 
 
 Mr. Hale, her teacher, was quite proud of her 
 scholarship and ambition, and was pleased to 
 allow her to join the class conditionally, lending 
 her a book of his own until she should prove
 
 12 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 that she could "make time," as she said, to 
 carry on the study. 
 
 Poor Eunice ! She had been obliged to make 
 time, indeed, out of small fragments, to accom- 
 plish her purpose. It had seemed to her that 
 never had there been such a busy time, as 
 since she began to study Latin. First, Bess 
 was sick ; then it was house-cleaning ; and then 
 came Aunt Edith's visit. 
 
 She had been obliged to smuggle her 
 grammar to the ironing-table with her, and 
 hide it beneath the pile of towels, napkins, and 
 such like, which were her share of the ironing : 
 in consequence, the said towels were apt to be 
 folded far from straight, and laid aside with 
 curled edges. More than once, the same 
 grammar had changed color upon its open 
 page, from being stationed upon the shelf over 
 the sink, while Eunice was washing up the tea- 
 things, in quite too close proximity to the soap- 
 dish. 
 
 I do not think this argued any improper pride 
 in the scholarly book, but only a just sense of 
 the fitness of things.
 
 CONFLICTING DUTIES. 13 
 
 In short, Eunice had not proved, *i this busy 
 time, the efficient helper she was capable of 
 being; and her mother felt that the mystery 
 was explained, as she picked up the Latin 
 Grammar. Aunt Edith had observed a good 
 deal, and guessed at more, of the state of 
 things with her favorite niece; and a plan 
 which she had dimly in her mind when she left 
 home, had matured rapidly during her visit. 
 
 To return to the time and place at which we 
 introduced Eunice to our readers. 
 
 Aunt Edith laid aside her things, and claimed 
 an exclusive right to little Walter, until tea- 
 time. George and Runney suddenly realized 
 that the bright October afternoon, Saturday 
 afternoon, too, was almost gone ; and they 
 rushed out-doors for another game. 
 
 Bess and little Susy were wonderfully 
 entertained by the nursery rhymes and com- 
 ical stories which Aunt Edith was telling to 
 little Walter; of course, with no thought of any 
 other listeners. 
 
 And so it came about that Eunice had full 
 leisure to finish her lesson, and also to think
 
 14 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 over the occurrences of the afternoon. These 
 thoughts made Eunice feel rather disturbed 
 and uncomfortable, lu fact, this state of feel- 
 ing was by no means new to her ; many times, 
 of late, had she been made uneasy by discover- 
 ing a 'flaw' in her work; the inevitable 
 consequence of 'breaking a thread in the loom,' 
 by overlooking ' present duty.' 
 
 " dear !" sighed the girl, " everything 
 that I touch seems to go wrong ; why must 
 things pile up so ! I am sure it would have 
 been almost wicked for me to lose this chance 
 of beginning Latin, when I do so want to be 
 fitted for a teacher ! I would work so hard ; 
 and do something and be somebody in the 
 world, if I could only have the chance ! But, 
 just as surely as I set about anything which 
 seems really worth while, any quantity of teas- 
 ing little things will turn up to be done ! It's 
 like trying to run a race through a bramble- 
 patch !"
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JUmt (Ctnth's proposal. 
 
 "Ask Hi* PCM to lull to rert 
 Kvory tumult of 'ihe breant I 
 Aak His soul-trasUining truth 
 Aa the spring-dew of thy youth." 
 
 | HATevening, when the sisters chanced 
 to be together for n short time, sup- 
 posing themselves with no auditor 
 but the baby, restless little Walter, whose 
 sleepy hour had not yet arrived, Mrs. Hart- 
 well took the opportunity to broach her 
 scheme. 
 
 " Madeline ! Suppose you were to lend 
 Eunice to me for this winter? Now don't 
 shake your head and look such a decided 
 negative until you hear all I have to say. I 
 assure you my project is not to be set aside 
 
 with a nod. The fact is, what with her home 
 
 (15)
 
 16 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 duties, and her ambition for studj, the child is 
 orer-working herself ; and not only her health, 
 but her spirits and temper are suffering in con- 
 sequence. I know that you are aware of this 
 to some extent, and that it worries you ; but 
 even you cannot see it as I do. Why, the 
 way she has of carrying that heavy child on 
 one side is enough to injure her of itself ; it 
 really seems to ine that she is growing out of 
 shape." 
 
 " That is true," sighed Mrs. Somers, " and I 
 reprove her every time I see it; but Eunice 
 thinks time is entirely wasted in tending baby, 
 unless she can be reading, or doing something 
 else, at the same time." 
 
 " I know I see how it is. As I said, she is 
 full of girlish ambitions, and they seeni to me 
 very laudable ones, in their way. 
 
 " I know you think it is very naughty of her 
 to be so unwilling to help you with your heavy 
 burdens, and I do not mean to justify her im- 
 patience ; only excuse me if I suggest, dear 
 sister, that your shoulders are fitted to the bur- 
 den, by all wifely and maternal instincts, help-
 
 A.UXT EDITH'S ruorosAL. 17 
 
 ing you to bear up under it. Her position is 
 very different. To be sure, she ought to love, 
 honor, and succor her parents, but it is natural, 
 too, for her to be forming plans for her own 
 course in life. 
 
 " Now if you could arrange to spare her to 
 me this winter, I do think it would be the best 
 thing for her. It would give her time to get 
 over this irritated feeling of being thwarted in 
 her ambitions. I can teach her myself in her 
 English branches, and Ransom will, I know, 
 willingly instruct her in Latin. 
 
 " I will attend to her clothing, so that she 
 shall be no expense to you at all; and it 
 seems to me that, when you are relieved of her 
 schooling, and other expenses, you can afford 
 to hire a stout young girl to help you with the 
 baby, and so on. 
 
 "Now, dear sister, I want you to think 
 seriously of my plan, before you say ' No ;' 
 think of it over Sunday, and talk it up with her 
 father. 
 
 " Oh ! I had almost forgotten to mention a 
 part of my scheme. You must know we have 
 2
 
 18 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 an excellent teacher of drawing and painting 
 near us ; and if you approve, I would like to 
 have Eunice take lessons of him. I have 
 always thought she had a great deal of taste in 
 that line." 
 
 Now it happened that Eunice had come into 
 the parlor, from which opened the little sewing- 
 room where her mother and aunt were sitting, 
 with the intention of offering to take little 
 Walter ; but she had spied a new magazine 
 upon the table, and, as her brother George 
 would have said, had " grown to it," uncon- 
 scious of baby and everything else, until her 
 attention was recalled to things passing, by 
 some of her Aunt Edith's words, which reached 
 her ear. 
 
 " If you could arrange to spare her " " Eng- 
 lish studies" "Latin" -Eunice overheard 
 enough to get the drift of her aunt's proposal. 
 She heard as if in a dream ; but suddenly 
 aroused herself, and slipped out of the room ; 
 too honorable to remain aud listen, although 
 her heart bent quick with eager longing to 
 know what her mother would reply. As she
 
 AUNT EDITH'S PROPOSAL. 19 
 
 closed the door, however, she heard the words 1 
 " Think of it over Sunday." 
 
 Eunice sped up into her own little room, and 
 bolting the door, rushed forward and threw 
 her arms around a silent figure, exclaiming : 
 
 " Oh, Lucilla, you darling! It is too good to 
 think of! It cannot come true; but, if it 
 should ! Oh, if mother should say yes !" 
 
 And who was this favored confidante ? 
 
 I fear my readers will form a low opinion of 
 the good sense of our Eunice, if I confess that 
 Lucilla, the beloved, was but a doll ! 
 
 "A girl of nearly fourteen hugging a doll, 
 and talking to it ; absurd !" 
 
 Doubtless ; yet, my wise and worthy friends 
 of that interesting age, are you never guilty of 
 an absurdity, in the privacy of your own 
 room? 
 
 A girl who has a sister, near her own age, 
 and sympathizing, as a sister should be, needs 
 no such device ; but, failing this most precious 
 intimacy, every young maiden craves some 
 substitute ; and it is well for her if the out- 
 pourings of her heart be not confided to some
 
 20 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 more injudicious bosom friend than poor Lu- 
 cilla ! 
 
 To apologize in part for this folly of our 
 friend Eunice, it should be explained, that 
 Lucilla had been given to her when she was a 
 little child ; and the really beautiful doll was 
 for a long time the very joy of her heart. 
 
 Little Boss, then the creeping baby, there 
 was always one at that stage of progress, as it 
 seemed ; was the unfortunate means of hope- 
 lessly maiming the beloved object. 
 
 Poor little Eunice's grief was so heartfelt 
 and touching as to arouse the sympathies of a 
 friend, who took the severed head, the face 
 being uninjured, and skilfully adjusted it upon 
 the form of a pincushion doll, to stand upon 
 the bureau, in the little mourner's own room. 
 
 The relief and delight of the child well repaid 
 her friend's efforts. Never was a pin allowed 
 to inflict injury upon her dear Lucilla ; and, 
 from childish caresses and words of endearment, 
 Eunice had unconsciously gone on to confide 
 the deeper feelings of her heart, as she grew 
 older, to this long-time friend.
 
 AUNT EDITH'S PROPOSAL. 21 
 
 In fact, she talked to Lncilla as another 
 would have written in a journal ; only far more 
 volubly and freely. 
 
 "But if it should! If father and mother 
 would let me go ! " 
 
 How fast the thoughts of the girl flew onward 
 as she repeated these words ! What a vision 
 of delight flitted before her mind ! 
 
 "Think of it!" she whispered; "for a 
 whole winter, perhaps, no baby-tending, no 
 hard work, but to study ns much as I please ; 
 and Latin ! and with Uncle Hansom for a 
 teacher ! Wouldn't I get ahead of Master 
 Roland a notch or two ! He should see what 
 girls can do ! " 
 
 If Eunice had overheard what her Aunt 
 Edith had added about lessons in drawing, I 
 am afraid sweet Lncilla would have been anni- 
 hilated by an over- vehement caress. 
 
 For, to learn drawing; to sketch from na- 
 ture ; possibly to paint well, had ever been 
 an object f ir in the dim delightful distance in 
 Eunice's dreamings. She had, as her aunt had 
 observed, a natural taste and gift in that direc-
 
 22 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 tion ; but there had been so little to call it 
 forth, and develope it, that she was only aware 
 of a great love for the beautiful art. 
 
 " When I can teach, and earn a good salary, 
 I will learn to draw," was her mental resolve. 
 
 As Eunice still stood, with her arms thrown 
 around Lucilla, the voice of little Bess at the 
 door disturbed her excited imaginings. 
 
 " Euuie ! Let me in ! Mamma has been a- 
 wonderin' and wonderiu' where you could be, 
 and I guess you'd better go down-stairs ! " 
 
 Eunice opened the door hastily. " Come, 
 then; I suppose it is time for you all to be 
 washed and put to bed ; don't go in there, 
 Bess : come right down, with me ! " 
 
 " You needn't be so cross," said the little 
 girl; "I don't want to touch anything, only 
 just to look at Lucilla ; isnt she pretty ? just 
 us pretty as ever ! " 
 
 "Of course; why not? But she wouldn't be, 
 very long, if you were to have your way. 
 Come, I can't leave you in there ! " 
 
 And Eunice drew her sister from the room, 
 not very gently, and closed the door.
 
 AUNT EDITH'S PROPOSAL. 23 
 
 " You needn't be so cross ! " A very truthful 
 observation, and one which Bess had had 
 occasion to make often, of late. 
 
 The " crossness " had been all too common, 
 aud excuses hud been more and more easily 
 rendered, until Eunice had almost ceased to 
 feel them necessary. But this evening, little 
 Bessie's remonstrance was echoed by the con- 
 science of the elder sister ; especially when, on 
 going down to her mother, she was met with a 
 wistful look of tenderness which spoke to her 
 very heart. 
 
 " Mother would miss me sadly," she thought 
 to herself ; at least, she ought to miss me, but 
 I'm afraid I haven't helped her much of late." 
 
 The upbraidings of conscience mingling with 
 the tumultuous hopes awakened within the 
 past hour, gave Eunice enough to think of 
 " over Sunday," as her aunt had expressed it. 
 
 She lay down to rest that night feeling that 
 she could not wait until Monday to know her 
 fate. But the blessed atmosphere of calm and 
 rest which is breathed on the morning of the 
 Lord's day, in a house whose inmates are
 
 24 EUNICE SOMEBS. 
 
 trained to its observance, exerted its wonted 
 influence, as Eunice awoke, and prepared to 
 engage in the duties of the day. 
 
 It was not alone the hnbit of a child of a 
 religious household, which controlled her. 
 Young as she was, and careless as she may 
 have appeared to the reader, Eunice had, some 
 mouths previously to the opening of our story, 
 " with her own mouth ratified and confirmed 
 the promises of her baptism ;" and had been 
 admitted to the Table of the Lord. There are 
 those, I well know, who would strongly object 
 to such a step on the part of one so young, and 
 so immature in Christian faith and experience. 
 
 Happily for Eunice, her parents and her 
 pastor held other views upon this point. They 
 believed that the child trained from infancy to 
 walk in the road to Zion, with those whose 
 faces were thitherward, was to be encouraged 
 to persevere in that holy walk and way : they 
 would no more have denied the Bread of Life 
 to the earnest desire of the youthful pilgrim, 
 than they would have withheld the " sincere 
 milk of the word " from the need of infancy.
 
 UNT EDITH'S PROPOSAL. 25 
 
 Eunice was in earnest in the wish and pur- 
 pose to live as a child of God, although many 
 times she sadly failed in this purpose. 
 
 Therefore it was that she tried to put aside 
 from her mind the engrossing question of the 
 evening before, and give her attention to the 
 sacred duties of the day. 
 
 Opening her Prayer-book, to glance once 
 more at the collect before going to church, 
 Eunice was struck with a new and deeper 
 meaning in the words than she had noticed 
 before. 
 
 It was the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity, 
 and the expression which so fixed her atten- 
 tion, was this : 
 
 " That we being ready both in body and 
 soul, may cheerfully accomplish those things 
 which Thou commaudest, through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord." 
 
 " I suppose, after all, these things I have 
 had to do, that vexed me so, were a part of 
 what God commanded ; and I have not been 
 doing them cheerfully, I know." 
 
 So spoke the conscience of the girl, as she
 
 26 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 stood with her book in her hand, musing. 
 Then followed the question, " What is it that 
 has ' hurt ' me, aud kept me Lack from my 
 duty?" and the faint consciousness that she 
 had been trying to walk in. a path of her own 
 choosing, and not humbly following on in the 
 way marked out for her. 
 
 These reflections were deepened by the 
 sermon that morning, which was upon a text 
 taken from the Epistle for the day : " Be ye 
 not unwise, but understanding what the will of 
 the Lord is." 
 
 Before the day closed, Eunice found time, in 
 the secret of her own chamber, to repeat the 
 collect humbly and earnestly, praying also for 
 help to understand the will of the Lord, and 
 trying to resolve to be more faithful in her 
 daily and obvious duties, even if it were decided 
 that she should remain at home.
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 <Lbt Important pension. 
 
 ' Tinged too her thought* ome show of fldr romance, 
 The fruit of youth, and nuned by vmriotu chance." 
 
 IEFORE the day closed also, the 
 parents of Eunice found time for 
 prayerful thought and counsel upon 
 the question which Mrs. Hart well had laid 
 before them. It was a matter not unfit for 
 discussion upon the evening of the Lord's Day, 
 for they both felt that not the worldly interests 
 of their child, alone, were involved. 
 
 We will not follow the reasoning by which 
 they were brought to the decision that, on the 
 whole, it would be best for Eunice to go with 
 her aunt. Mrs. Hartwell seemed truly glad 
 when she was told ; and when the mother 
 added, "If Eunice herself is willing, and 
 
 (27)
 
 28 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 pleased to go : you know we have said nothing 
 to Lev yet," her smile answered that she 
 feared no objections from Eunice. It was not 
 until the children had gone to school that the 
 matter was finally settled ; and Eunice found it 
 hard to fix her thoughts upon her lessons that 
 morning. 
 
 "I hope" . thought she to herself, "I shall 
 know how it is to be before another day." 
 
 As soon as she returned from school, she 
 sought her mother, in the hope that some 
 allusion would be made to the subject of her 
 impatient thought. Aunt Edith was sitting 
 with her at work, and the two exchanged 
 glances as Eunice entered. 
 
 "What shall I do now, mother?" 
 
 " Sit down with us a little while, daughter ; 
 we have something to talk to you about ;" and 
 Eunice seated herself, with a fast beating 
 heart, on a stool at her mother's feet. 
 
 Aunt Edith's proposal was then explained 
 to her at length ; the additional charm of the 
 drawing lessons sufficing to call forth the look 
 of delighted surprise which her aunt was confi-
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 29 
 
 clently watching to see. A pause, cluriug 
 which Eunice hid her face iu her mother's 
 lap. 
 
 " "Well, my child," said, Mrs. Somers, fondly 
 stroking her hair, " what do you think of it ? 
 Look up and tell us." 
 
 " I think auntie is very kind ; and and, 
 oh, mother ! I should so like to go, if you can 
 spare me !" 
 
 " Oh, we have talked that all over ;" inter- 
 posed Aunt Edith. " Your mother will have all 
 that you cost her for clothing, and so on, to 
 hire help with." 
 
 Eunice looked doubtfully at her mother, who 
 met the look with a smile. Mrs. Hortwell had 
 very little idea with how much of turning and 
 refitting, and with how little of actual outlay 
 for new material, the little bodies of that 
 family were clothed. 
 
 A speech of little Bessie's had passed into a 
 proverb in the house : Once, when she was 
 invited to some little festivity, her mamma 
 demurred, because, as she said, " The child 
 had nothing fit to wear." Little Bess exclaimed,
 
 30 EUNICE SORTERS. 
 
 excitedly; "Oh, rip, mamma, rip!" She was 
 accustomed to see her wardrobe enlarged by 
 means of ripping. 
 
 Eunice was thinking that the oft-tried expe- 
 dient, which had availed to supply many 
 deficiencies of the wardrobe, would not answer 
 as well to pay the wages of a servant. 
 
 " I think I shall manage very well, although 
 I shall miss you, darling," said the mother, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Walter will soon learn to walk, now, and 
 tlieu Bess will help me very much with him ; 
 and, as auntie says, I must try to hire more 
 help." 
 
 " Then I shall have nothing to do but study ; 
 and oh, how I .will work at it! But, Aunt 
 Edith, I thought, I mean," added Eunice, 
 a little confused, " had you not better send me 
 to school? I shall take so much of your 
 time." 
 
 " We will see," said her aunt ; " there is an 
 excellent girls' school near us, if you wisb to go 
 to it : but you know I am an old hand at 
 teaching, and you could not have a better
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 31 
 
 teacher in L:itin than your uncle ; and I 
 thought you were just the sort of girl to enjoy 
 studying alone, with the privilege of getting on 
 as fast as you choose." 
 
 Eunice smiled, while her eyes sparkled with 
 delight ; and her mother saw, with a secret 
 paiig, that her choice was made. 
 
 " Well !" said Aunt Edith, in her lively way, 
 " do you suppose, Miss Somers, you can ac- 
 complish the important business of settling up 
 home affairs for the winter, packing, leave* 
 taking, and so on, and be ready to go home 
 with me by Thursday ?" 
 
 Eunice started, aud involuntarily clasped her 
 mother's hand: "So soon as that!" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Why yes, dear child ; think what a visit I 
 have made already ! I meant to start for home 
 earlier in the week, but I shall wait until 
 Thursday for the pleasure of your company." 
 
 "There comes papa, my love; go and tell 
 him what you have decided. And I must be 
 busy now." 
 
 Mrs. Somers kissed Eunice fondly, and has-
 
 32 EUNICE SOMEIIS. 
 
 tened from the room ; for the tears would start 
 at the thought of so long a separation from her 
 ekle.st-born. 
 
 The two days that followed were all too 
 short for what was to be done in them. Eunice 
 had but little time to think of her charming 
 prospects, amid the bustle of preparation for 
 the long sojourn away from home. 
 
 She went to school the next morning to ex- 
 plain the state of things to her teacher, and bid 
 good-bye to him and to her school-mates. Mr. 
 Hule, though sorry to part with one of his 
 favorite pupils, appreciated the advantages she 
 expected to enjoy, and was heartily glad for her. 
 
 " I shall expect you to sketch the old Aca- 
 demy for me, when you return," said he, " and 
 write an essay in Latin, at the foot of your 
 sketch, upon the advantages of education !" 
 
 The scholars had an additional five minutes 
 of recess granted, in consideration of all they 
 had to say in parting with their young friend j 
 envying her iiie delightful prospect of a win- 
 ter in Holmeford, and protesting how nmcli 
 they should miss her.
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 33 
 
 " Eunie, there is one little bit of work which 
 you must find time for, before you go away ; I 
 mean, to take up those bulbs in the garden ; 
 papa is so busy, since he has been feeling bet- 
 ter, that he will have no time to attend to it, 
 and I am afraid George would injure them." 
 
 "And my precious mother thinks she will 
 have no time for gardening when her ' right- 
 hand man' is gone!" rejoined Eunice, play- 
 fully. " Well, I had better set about it now, 
 then ; but how warm it seems, to be taking up 
 plants ! The sun is really hot to-day." 
 
 "Yes, but we cannot expect such weather 
 many hours longer ; we may have a frost any 
 day now ; and we must not lose our dahlias, 
 and other pretty things : we want all the 
 brightness we can have about our little home." 
 
 " It will always be bright while you are within 
 it !" said Eunice, giving her mother a hug, and 
 turning a^way to find her garden-hat with some- 
 thing like a tear in her eye. With all her 
 bright anticipations, she began to realize that 
 Bhe should miss her mother. 
 
 She was very busy, with her sleeves rolled 
 3
 
 34 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 up, and her trowel in her hand, when she heard 
 a step on the walk, and glancing up, saw 
 Roland "Wells close beside her. 
 
 The home of the Somers' family was next to 
 the move pretentious mansion and grounds of 
 Mr. Wells, and their pleasant little garden had 
 the benefit of a hedge of raspberry and other 
 bushes with which he had partly enclosed his 
 place. 
 
 Eunice met Roland's good-humored smile 
 rather shyly ; she was conscious of having 
 been rather uncharitable in her feelings towards 
 him of late. 
 
 "I was working in the garden too," said 
 Roland, "when mother called me to run over 
 with this plate of wafers for your mother; 
 please excuse the absence of my jacket ; and 
 will you be so kind as to carry them in ? I am 
 afraid of meeting your city friends, you know !" 
 
 Eunice complied with this request, and soon 
 returned with the plate, and her mother's 
 thanks. 
 
 "Those made me think of your birthday 
 parties, when you were a little fellow, Roland;
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 35 
 
 do you remember? Your mother always 
 baked wafers for us, because we children 
 thought them so curious, aud so nice, too !" 
 
 "I suppose you will forget all about those 
 old times now," said Roland; "so you are 
 really going to Holmeford, for all winter!" 
 
 "I expect to; wont you be glad to have 
 one girl less in the Latin class ?" 
 
 " Why, Eunice, what can have given you 
 that strange idea? I am sure I am glad to 
 have any of the girls study it, only" 
 
 " Well, only wluoi T said Eunice, in a slightly 
 defiant tone. 
 
 " Why, you know what you told me about 
 the reasons why your father and mother 
 wanted you to put it off; and I thought per- 
 haps, if I were in your place, and my father so 
 poorly, I should feel as if other duties came 
 first. 
 
 " But there ! Of course I don't know any- 
 thing about girls' work, and I had no business 
 to give advice. I don't wonder you were 
 vexed, but pray forgive a fellow, before you go 
 away ; let us part friends 1"
 
 36 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Eunice could not resist bis frank, good- 
 tempered appeal; all her ill-nature melted 
 
 away. 
 
 " I don't think I have anything to forgive," 
 she said; "I suspect I have been dreadfully 
 cross; and may-be you were right about the 
 advice. 
 
 " But now that father and mother think best 
 for me to go, and I am to have nothing to do 
 but study, you'll wish me good luck, won't 
 you ?" 
 
 "That I will, with all my heart! I hope 
 you will be ready to teach, by the end of the 
 winter; and perhaps I may be one of your 
 scholars, one of these days ; w r ho knows ?" 
 
 " What nonsense !" responded Eunice, laugh- 
 ing merrily. " But you know I do want to be 
 able to teach, as soon as I am old enough, and 
 earn money to help them all at home !" 
 
 Roland replied to this with a look of real 
 sympathy, for he understood and secretly 
 admired the spirit and ambition of his young 
 school-mate ; and, with a hasty shake of the 
 hand, they parted warm friends as ever.
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 37 
 
 "Wednesday evening had come, and Mrs. 
 Soiners was busy, packing, in her daughter's 
 room. 
 
 The wardrobe which lay around, to be dis- 
 posed of in the trunk, was by no means what 
 young girls in general would have thought 
 suitable for a visit to a large town, with such 
 society as Holmeford boasted. The mother 
 would gladly have added to it ; but her slender 
 purse obliged her to be content with her sister's 
 assurance that she would see that her charge 
 was suitably dressed. 
 
 Little Bess, with her quick eye, noticed the 
 deficiency, and anxiously asked if " Eunie did 
 not want some new frocks, to go to Holme- 
 ford?" 
 
 " Oh, I guess I shall get along !" replied 
 Eunice, cheerfully. In truth she was not 
 given to much anxiety on the subject of dress. 
 As one of her } r ouug companions, who had a 
 girl's usual love for pretty adomiugs, was wont 
 to remark : " Eunice Sotners would as lief be 
 thv^od in a coffee-sack, with two holes for her 
 arms, as any other way, if she might but have
 
 38 EUNICE HOMERS. 
 
 all the books slie wanted !" But this was put- 
 ting the case rather strongly. 
 
 "Can you make room for this old friend, 
 mother ?" said Eunice, drawing Lucilla forward 
 upon the bureau. 
 
 " My dear child ! Why should you want to 
 take that heavy thing? Do you suppose your 
 Aunt Edith has no pincushions? Or," added 
 her mother, suddenly remembering with what 
 care this relic of her childhood had been kept 
 in its place, " or do you really love the old 
 dollie, yet?" 
 
 "Well, if I do," said Eunice, "it is quite 
 time for me to put away such childish things, I 
 suppose. 
 
 "Bess, would you like to have Lucilla for 
 yours, to keep in your room ?" 
 
 " Oh, oh !" screamed the child, dancing about 
 the floor, " will you give her to me to keep in 
 my room, where Susy and I sleep ? I'll love 
 her just as much as you do, Eunie! But 
 you'll miss her, won't you, sister? 'cause you 
 talk to her sometimes." 
 
 Eunice blushed, wondering how the little puss
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 39 
 
 had discovered that fact. She covered her 
 confusion with the remark : " I fancy I shall 
 miss others at home besides Lucilla !" 
 
 Here Qeorge entered, with an embarrassed 
 look, and placed a little paper in his sister's 
 haud. 
 
 " Will you take this, Eunice, to remember me 
 by ? It isn't very nice ; but I had no more 
 money !" And George made his exit, speedily. 
 
 Euuico opened the paper and found a little 
 emery basket, which had probably taken all her 
 brother's scanty supply of spending money. 
 
 "Isn't that just like George, mother?" she 
 said, regarding the little gift lovingly. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply ; " our dear old blun- 
 dering boy has a warm heart !" 
 
 Again Eunice's conscience smote her at the 
 recollection of how much oftener she had evinced 
 impatience at his blunders and clumsiness, than 
 she had responded to his boyish affection. 
 
 Presently Ranuey came in, also with a parcel 
 in his hand, of small proportions, and curiously 
 done up. 
 
 " Here's something for Eunice to take to
 
 40 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 Holmeforcl, mother; will you put it in her 
 trunk?" 
 
 " Is it to remember you by, Kanney ?" asked 
 Eunice, with some surprise. 
 
 " Yes," said the child, but his eyes danced 
 with fun and mischief as he spoke. 
 
 " Let me open it, mother," said Eunice, half 
 suspecting a trick. 
 
 " No, no ! Don't open it till you get to Aunt 
 Edith's ; I don't want you to !" 
 
 "Well, I will not; mother will tuck it in a 
 safe corner : is it anything that will break ?" 
 
 But in the mean time the parcel was opening 
 itself. The young rogue had not securely 
 adjusted his string, and after a little tussle with 
 his envelope, out walked a huge beetle, over 
 Eunice's clean linen. 
 
 " Oh !" screamed Eunice, who had a great 
 dislike to all the creeping things of the earth, 
 " take the ugly thing away, quick ! Ranney 
 Somers ! are you trying to make me hate you ?" 
 
 Ranney was almost convulsed with merriment 
 at the sudden appearance of his unwelcome 
 gift ; but as Eunice said this, in a passionate
 
 THE IMPORTANT DECISION. 41 
 
 tone, lie tried hard to check himself, and there 
 was a half pleading, half frightened look in his 
 eyes, as they met hers, which the sister felt, 
 aud had cause to remember, afterward. 
 
 The little boy left the room, carrying his 
 beetle, and shaking with laughter still, in spite 
 of himself, at the remembrance of the fun. 
 
 Eunice heard her mother sigh, and said 
 petulantly, " It does seem as if that child was 
 d\v;iys on the watch to tease and provoke 
 me!" 
 
 " You judge him harshly, my daughter ; and 
 you have no patience with his provoking ways. 
 He is full of life and mischief, I know, but he 
 is not nearly as wicked as you seem to think." 
 
 " Not wicked exactly, mother, but, well, 
 perhaps it is a good thing for Rannoy that I 
 am going away ! " A better impulse moved 
 Eunice to add : " I will try to be less easily 
 provoked when I come back ! " 
 
 The mother said no more until she had fin- 
 ished packing the trunk, which was nearly 
 done. 
 
 Then she left the room, and returned in a
 
 42 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 moment with a little trinket in her hand ; a 
 tiny gold cross, with a slender elastic cord 
 attached, which she put around her daughter's 
 neck. 
 
 " I do not give you this as an ornament, my 
 child ; I would rather you would not wear it in 
 sight. But I want it to remind you of my 
 parting caution and advice : 
 
 "Kemember, my Eunice, that the follower of 
 Christ cannot escape the cross. 
 
 " There are briers besetting every path, 
 That call for patient care : 
 There is a cross in every lot, 
 And an earnest need for prayer." 
 
 " Do not forget your Christian vows, in your 
 new home. Keep your armor bright, and 
 watch unto prayer ! " 
 
 A loving kiss spoke the 'Amen' to these 
 words, and Eunice was left alone, holding her 
 mother's gift, and gazing upon it with tearful 
 eyes.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ]!t:is;mt prospects. 
 
 1 All that appeared was suitable to ono 
 Whose fancy had a thousand fields to skim : 
 To expectations, spreading with wild growth, 
 And hope, that kept with ma hor plighted troth." 
 
 JT an early hour on Thursday, our 
 travellers were fairly on their way. 
 As Eunice bade good-bye to the dear 
 onus ut houie, she realized, as she had not done 
 before, how much she should miss them, and 
 how strange it would seem to be away from 
 them all ; for this was to be her first long 
 absence from home. But the sadness of part- 
 ing was soon forgotten in the excitement of the 
 journey, and bright anticipations of the plea- 
 sures of her new home. 
 
 Eunice had never been a dozen miles from 
 
 (43)
 
 44 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 home before, so that a journey of nearly a 
 hundred miles by rail was in itself a great 
 pleasure ; and Auut Edith was in a lively mood, 
 and pointed out to her everything worth notic- 
 ing by the way. 
 
 Eunice had not seen her uncle since she was 
 a little child, and scarcely remembered him ; 
 the other members of her aunt's household 
 she had never seen ; and, as she drew near the 
 end of the journey, she began to feel that she 
 was to appear among strangers. She knew 
 that Mr. Hartwell stood high in his profession 
 as a lawyer, and held some public offices in 
 Holmeford ; and in this anxious hour it just 
 occurred to her to wonder whether he would 
 quite like his wife's arrangements, and whether 
 he would really be willing to give up a portion 
 of his time to hearing her recitations ; rather 
 a small business for him, as she now fully re- 
 alized. She was therefore greatly relieved 
 when, on reaching her aunt's home, a tall, 
 pleasant looking gentleman met them in the 
 hall. 
 
 "You have stolen a march upon me," said
 
 VSANT PROSPECTS. 45 
 
 lie, greeting his wife; "I should have met you 
 at the depot, if you Lad written that you. 
 would come to-day." 
 
 Then turning to Eunice, he added : 
 
 " So this is our youug niece ; our daughter 
 for this winter ! Welcome home, my dear 1 
 You aud I are to have famous times in the 
 pursuit of knowledge, I expect." 
 
 The fatherly kiss which accompanied these 
 words made Eunice feel quite at home, and at 
 her ease. 
 
 Aunt Edith had not acted unadvisedly in 
 her undertaking. Indeed, her first plan had 
 been to seud Eunice to school, while with 
 them ; but her husband had suggested that 
 they could easily guide her in her studies, and 
 could more carefully watch over her health 
 under such an arrangement. 
 
 Eunice was just th\) age of one of the two, 
 their only children, whom this uncle and aunt 
 had lost by death a few years previously. 
 Doubtless, a thought of the delight with which 
 they would have watched over their own 
 daughter's pursuits, added tenderness to the
 
 46 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 interest which they took in their young niece. 
 Though without children of her own, Auut 
 Edith was at the head of quite a household. 
 
 Two sisters of Mr. Hartwell were among its 
 members; these claimed to be introduced to 
 Eunice as "Aunt Mildred," and "Aunt Dora." 
 
 The former was a widow lady, considerably 
 older than her brother, and quite an invalid. 
 " Aunt Dora " still retained the name of Hart- 
 well; and also, to some extent, her youthful 
 good looks. 
 
 Then there was a young relative of Aunt 
 Edith's, and, consequently, a sort of cousin of 
 her own, who boarded with the family, enjoying 
 all the privileges of a home. This individual 
 presented himself as " Cousin Dick ;" and, after 
 dinner, took upon himself the duty of amusing 
 his young cousin through the evening ; watch- 
 ing her, meantime, as Aunt Dora suggested, 
 " to find out on what points she would be 
 most susceptible of teasing." 
 
 The remainder of the week was to be devoted 
 to getting settled in the new home, seeing a 
 little of the town, and doing some shopping.
 
 PLEASANT PB08PECT8. 47 
 
 So Eunice's friends decided for her, at break- 
 fast the next morning. At the same time 
 there was some consultation as to the disposal 
 of her time afterward. 
 
 Eunice scarcely knew herself in this novel 
 position ; the youngest of a family circle, and 
 the object of general attention and solicitude ; 
 she who from early childhood, had been called 
 upon to think for others. 
 
 " I shall be obliged to appoint your recita- 
 tion hour with me directly after dinner, my 
 dear," said her uncle : " rather late, I know ; 
 but of course you can prepare your lesson in 
 the morning, at your study hour." 
 
 He then inquired particularly how far she 
 was advanced in her studies ; and told her 
 auut that he thought she had better study 
 Algebra also, with him, as well as her much 
 desired Latin. 
 
 Eunice's eyes sparkled. 
 
 ' You would like it then, my dear? Very 
 well, I am sure I shall enjoy teaching such an 
 eager pupil." 
 
 With her Aunt Edith, Eunice was to read
 
 48 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 history, and review some of her previous 
 studies, as time permitted. 
 
 Mr. Hartwell promised to see the drawing 
 teacher, Mr. Neville, and secure a place for 
 Eunice, in one of his classes, at once. 
 
 " And what shall /do ?" said Aunt Mildred. 
 " I think if our dear girl would like to spend 
 an hour occasionally in an old woman's room, 
 I can teach her something in nice needle-work, 
 and fancy-work : what do you say, my dear ?" 
 
 Eunice was not over fond of sewing, and was 
 no proficient with her needle. But conscious 
 how much more useful she might be at home 
 if she knew a little more of this branch of 
 feminine work, she answered : 
 
 " Thank you, Aunt Mildred ; I am afraid yon. 
 will find me a very dull scholar in that line, 
 but I should like to learn to sew neatly, if you 
 will take the trouble to teach me." 
 
 The reply, which was quite sincere, gratified 
 Mrs. Ellett, very much. 
 
 "And I think," she continued, "I shall claim 
 you as my companion when I ride out; this 
 will relieve sister Dora, when she does not care
 
 PLEASANT PROSPECTS. 49 
 
 to go ; and I can make the drives pleasant for 
 you, I hope, though I am not able to go very far." 
 
 Eunice was not obliged to reason herself 
 into accepting this proposition with thanks. 
 
 " I don't see as there is anything that I can 
 do in behalf of my cousin," said Dick ; " unless 
 I can tease her a little, by way of keeping her 
 awake in the evenings ; or unless she will show 
 herself at ' Putnam & Mills ' establishment ; 
 where I shall be happy to wait upon her ! 
 
 "And where I ought to be at this present 
 moment," he added, glancing at his watch, and 
 springing from his seat. 
 
 " I thought you were feeling more at leisure 
 than usual," said Aunt Edith, laughing. " If 
 you go to the store now, like a good boy, 
 you shall have the pleasure of waiting upon 
 your young cousin, in the course of the morning." 
 
 As to Aunt Dora, she had already assigned 
 herself her part, in private council with her 
 sister-in-law ; and she began operations ener- 
 getically that very morning, in order, as she 
 said, " to make the dear child presentable 
 
 before Sunday." 
 
 4
 
 50 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 Little as Eunice cared about dress, in gene- 
 ral, she was delighted with the novelty of the 
 shopping expedition ; and could not help feel- 
 ing some interest in the progress of the pretty 
 street-suit, which was cut and fitted, before 
 they returned home, and to which .^.unt Dora 
 and Aunt Edith devoted their afternoon. 
 
 Eunice wished to help ; but as it was a very 
 pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Ellett was going out 
 for a drive, and claimed her promised company 
 when the carriage appeared. Then, when she 
 returned, there was the pleasant duty of writing 
 home, to be performed. 
 
 " Oh, mother, I am so happy !" This was 
 the commencement of her letter. Then fol- 
 lowed a glowing account of the journey ; 
 of the kindness of her Uncle Eansom, and of 
 his sisters. " And Cousin Dick, as he says I 
 am to call him : Aunt Edith says you will 
 know who he is, though I did not ; he is real 
 kind, too ; and so funny !" 
 
 Then came a description of the wonders of 
 the town, so far as they had come under the 
 writer's observation: and after affectionate
 
 PLEASANT PROSPECTS. 51 
 
 messages to all at home, Eunice added this 
 postscript, at the bottom of the letter: "I do 
 not see where the cross can be, dear mother j 
 but I will try not to forget what you said." 
 
 Another rather exciting day, among these 
 new scenes, and new friends ; and then came 
 the day of rest once more. 
 
 It seemed to Eunice as if at least a month 
 had passed since she sat in her little room at 
 home, studying the Collect, on the morniug of 
 the lust Lord's Day. 
 
 Arrayed in her new suit, which Miss Dora 
 had exerted herself to finish ; and having under- 
 gone the inspection of that lady, and received 
 a kiss, and the sentence : " You will do nicely !" 
 Eunice escaped to her own room to avoid the 
 bantering of her Cousin Dick, and collect her 
 thoughts before going to the house of God. 
 From habit she opened her Prayer-book, and 
 read over the Collect and Epistle for the day ; 
 although she would be missed from the class at 
 the dear church at home. From habit, also, 
 and a blessed habit this, she strove to fix in 
 her mind the importance of the words she read :
 
 62 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 "And serve Thee with a quiet mind." 
 
 Eunice felt conscious that this did not 
 describe her service of the Master, during the 
 past few da} r s ; had she, indeed, thought much 
 of serving Him ? Had not her mind and 
 heart been quite occupied with herself, and 
 her new pleasures ? With a penitent heart 
 she whispered again the words of the Collect. 
 
 Then came the Epistle ; and as she glanced 
 over it, Eunice drew forth the little cross from 
 its concealment, and kissed it; murmuring, 
 " Dear mother !" 
 
 For here was the full description of that 
 armor which she was charged to keep bright ; 
 and her mother's very expression : " Watching 
 unto prayer." Beading it over thoughtfully, 
 Eunice wished she could recall the postscript to 
 her letter, written the day after her arrival ; 
 how childish it seemed to her, now. 
 
 For she felt truly that she might find her 
 cross in the conflict with spiritual foes, while 
 trying to keep her heart right with Gotl, as 
 much when all without was bright and smooth, 
 as when "flesh and blood " hindered her in the .
 
 PLEASANT PROSPECTS. 53 
 
 Christian course. A few moments spent in 
 prayer, and then the sound of church-going 
 bells was heard. 
 
 Eunice walked with her Cousin Dick, on the 
 way to church. The latter was but little 
 accustomed to curb his mirthful spirits, from 
 respect to the holy day : yet there was some- 
 thing in the manner of the young girl by his 
 side which restrained the playful jest, more 
 than once, when on his lips : was it the gleam 
 of the Christian armor, burnished by those 
 few moments of real devotion, which checked 
 the careless youth ? If so, Eunice was uncon- 
 scious of the influence she was exerting. A 
 real home feeling came over her, as the 
 service began, soon after they had taken their 
 places in church, and she remembered that at 
 the same hour the dear ones at home were 
 listening to the same words. 
 
 When services were over for the day, her 
 uncle, who had observed with pleasure her 
 serious deportment, lent her an interesting and 
 profitable book to read ; and so pleasantly 
 passed the first Sunday away from home.
 
 CHAPTEK V. , 
 
 opts 
 
 " Beware, beware ! 
 There's hidden danger lurking round, 
 
 In those great books, that easy chair, 
 This pleasant room, that garden ground 
 
 In the pure, cultivated life 
 Which seems all duty, yet may be 
 
 But a fair fence to keep the strife 
 Of a rude world from vexing thee 1" 
 
 RS. HAETWELL proposed a longer 
 vacation to her niece, but was amus- 
 ed by the eagerness with which she 
 begged to begin her studies at once. 
 
 There was a pleasant library, opening from 
 the parlor ; Mr. Hartwell's stud} T , when he had 
 occasion for such a room at home, but his office 
 up-town generally monopolized him, except in 
 the hours of relaxation. 
 
 In this pleasant room Eunice was to study, 
 
 (54)
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 55 
 
 to her heart's content, with none to disturb 
 her. 
 
 Her uncle laughingly deposited her in his 
 own arm-chair, before leaving for his office ou 
 Monday morning, telling her he should " expect 
 her to justify her claim to such an honorable 
 situation." 
 
 Eunice found the studies very pleasant ; 
 difficulties vanished before her uncle's lucid 
 explanations, at that delightful recitation hour, 
 after dinner ; and she could perceive that she 
 was in a fair way to make rapid progress. 
 
 The chief trouble her aunt encountered was 
 in making her leave off at the proper time, and 
 take necessary exercise and recreation. She 
 was obliged to go in and " stir up her nest," as 
 she expressed it, very determinedly, morning 
 after morning. 
 
 "Just this one example more, ^please, 
 Auntie ! " Eunice would plead ; or, " Do let 
 me go over this verb once more, to make sure of 
 it for uncle ! " 
 
 At length her friends were obliged to limit 
 the hours of study, strictly ; forbidding Eunice
 
 56 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 to study more than four Lours a clay. Tins her 
 uncle declared was quite enough for such a 
 pale-faced little body. 
 
 The drawing lessons began before the first 
 week closed, and Eunice was perfectly charmed 
 with this new pursuit. 
 
 Mr. Neville was equally delighted with his 
 pupil, declaring to Mr. Hartwell, after Eunice 
 had taken a few lessons, that she was " a born 
 artist," and that "it would have been a sin to 
 neglect such talent." 
 
 It needed an occasional mild reminder from 
 Mrs. Ellett, to keep Eunice from neglecting the 
 sewing lessons, which were excused entirely on 
 the two " drawing days " of the week. 
 
 Yet this hour was usually a very pleasant one, 
 spent in the gentle old lady's room ; and Eunice 
 really felt grateful to her for the exceeding 
 pains she took to make her an accomplished 
 needle-woman. 
 
 She did not fail to inform her mother of this, 
 among her other advantages, in the frequent 
 letters which were sent on their way to the 
 quiet little home, in Mansfield.
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 57 
 
 LETTER FROM MRS. SOMERS TO EUNICE. 
 
 MASBITELD, Nov. 20, . 
 
 " My Beloved Daughter : t 
 
 "Another of your bright, happy letters has 
 just arrived, aud been eagerly read ; would you 
 like to hear the comments of each of the house- 
 hold? 
 
 " ' Father' read, with a smile all over his face, 
 and laid the letter down with the words: 
 ' Blessings on the child ! I am thankful she is 
 doing so well !' 
 
 " Then George : < My ! How jolly ! I wish I 
 could see that panorama ! ' 
 
 " Eanney heard you through, and mused : ' I 
 wonder if she'd let me go to ride with her, in 
 that nice carriage, if I were there !' 
 
 " Truth compels me to add that this was said 
 in a tone of doubt. 
 
 "Bessie says, characteristically, 'Oh how I 
 wish I could see Euuie in that pretty hat, and 
 nice new suit ! I know she looks just as pretty!' 
 
 "I tell you this with not much fear of arousing 
 your vanity, or of sending you to the looking- 
 glass, to verify Bessie's fond assertion.
 
 58 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 "Little Sue says' wonderingly, '"Where is 
 Eunie ? How can slie speak in clis paper ?' 
 
 "And Baby repeats your name from the lips of 
 the others, lovingly, as if he remembered you. 
 
 "Then Roland came in, and the letter was 
 read to him ; for which we received his thanks, 
 and the remark : ' I am so glad Eunice is so 
 happy, and has such a nice chance to get on !' 
 
 "'And what did mother say?' you ask. No- 
 thing, audibly ; but she said something, down 
 deep in her heart ; and it was an earnest prayer 
 that our God will have my child in His holy 
 keeping; making these precious opportunities 
 a real blessing to her, and enabling her to 
 consecrate all her talents to His service ! 
 
 "Remember, my dear child, I pray you, that 
 you have need to be watchful ; your enemies 
 do not sleep, though all seems bright and 
 calm. 
 
 " Remember and use the prayer of our Litany : 
 'In all time of our prosperity, Good Lord, 
 deliver us! ' 
 
 " Do not feel anxious about me, dear. My 
 strength has held out wonderfully, and papa ia
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 59 
 
 unusually well, for him, which makes all things 
 lighter. 
 
 " I miss you, of course ; but I am very glad to 
 spare you to such advantages as you are enjoy- 
 ing. 
 
 " Tell dear Aunt Edith, and your kind uncle, 
 and other friends, that I thank them, continually, 
 for their kindness to you. 
 
 " A most loving good-night, from 
 
 "Youn MOTHER." 
 
 Such letters as this the busy burdened mother 
 found time to write frequently ; and they were, 
 as Eunice expressed it, "like ballast to the 
 ship ;" the little oraft which was scudding 
 onward so gayly before helpful breezes. 
 
 Ballast of some sort was needed, to keep the 
 head and heart in the right place, in this novel 
 and charming state of things. 
 
 " Miss Somers, this will be quite enough of 
 this preliminary work ; I will have you begin 
 studying from casts, with the next lesson, if 
 you please."
 
 60 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 A bright smile answering him to liis satis- 
 faction, Mr. Neville went on : 
 
 " I shall be happy to lend you casts to study 
 at home, if you choose : as you tell me you have 
 only this winter to spend here, we must be 
 getting on as fast as we can." 
 
 This proposal of her drawing-teacher gave 
 Eunice a delightful excuse for spending an hour 
 or two more each day in the library. 
 
 The circle whose solicitude centered about 
 the gentle intelligent girl, began to devise new 
 ways and means to tempt her out more, for 
 exercise and diversion. 
 
 " I Avish she had some young companions," 
 said Miss Dora ; "it cannot be very interesting 
 for her to go about with us old folks !" 
 
 " Humph !" ejaculated Dick, who happened to 
 be in the room, awaiting his dinner. 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, Mr. North ! You 
 are young and lively enough, certainly, if you 
 choose to devote yourself to the entertainment 
 of so young a damsel ; but then, you know, you 
 are not at home, except occasionally in the 
 evenings."
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 61 
 
 " The eldest of the Menitt children is about 
 Eunice's age ;" suggested Mrs. Hurtwell ; " and 
 there are the Hill girls, we might invite them 
 here to get acquainted." 
 
 " Now, my respected cousin, you surprise me 
 by your want of discrimination !" quoth Dick. 
 " Whatever the age of the Merritt girl, she is 
 a mere child to Eunice, in her tastes and ways ; 
 and those young Hills, with their silly prattle 
 and giggle ; pray don't bore the poor child by 
 associating her with them ! They are as unlike 
 her as possible." 
 
 " That is true," said Miss Dora ; " if Eunice 
 were to grow up in this place, I suppose it 
 would be her duty to cultivate the society of 
 young people of her own age, and do her part 
 towards improving it ; but as she is only here 
 for a time, we need not take pains to introduce 
 her to such as would be distasteful." 
 
 "I believe I will speak to Frances Lynde, 
 and ask leave to introduce Eunice to her," said 
 Dick. 
 
 " Miss Lynde ! Why Dick, you are quite as 
 far out of the way as I was, in another direction,"
 
 62 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 said Miss Hartwell ; " Miss Lynde is a young 
 lady in society ; rather beyond a school-girl of 
 fourteen." 
 
 " Yes," said Dick, " but she has a very win- 
 ning way with younger girls ; there is a set of 
 them who think all the world of her ; she has 
 them in a sort of Bible class, I believe. And 
 she would be interested in Eunice, I know ; at 
 any rate, she would take pains to gratify her if 
 I asked the favor ; you know she is a sort of 
 cousin of mine, on the other side !" supple- 
 mented Dick, noticing the mischievous glances 
 exchanged by the ladies. 
 
 " Very well ; I wish you success in bringing 
 about the acquaintance ;" said Mrs. Hartwell ; 
 " I am sure it would be a very pleasant one for 
 Eunice !" 
 
 "My good cousin," said Dick Ncfrth, at 
 dinner, a few evenings after, " I bespeak the 
 pleasure of your company for this evening, if 
 you are not otherwise engaged ; I have promised 
 my friend, Miss Lynde, to take you around to 
 spend an evening with her, at some time ; and
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 63 
 
 this will be a glorious evening for the walk: 
 what say you ?" 
 
 " Do you mean the Miss Lynde who sings in 
 the choir, and teaches in the Sunday-school, at 
 St. James' ?" asked Eunice. 
 
 " And is foremost in every other good and 
 pious work ! Yes ; the very same ; do you 
 know her already ?" 
 
 " No, except by her sweet face ; but I should 
 so like to hear her speak !" 
 
 " Very well ; go with me, and we will hope to 
 persuade her to afford you that gratification !" 
 said Dick, laughingly, with a side glance at 
 Mrs Hartwell. 
 
 "Am I to excuse the recitation this even- 
 ing ?" asked Mr. Hartwell. 
 
 " Oh, uncle ! no, indeed ! That is, not if 
 cousin Dick will wait for me ; I should be soVry 
 to lose my lessons !" 
 
 " Oh, I will wait, by all means ; I am quite 
 at your service, Miss Eunice !" 
 
 Eunice hardly knew whether to feel teased 
 .or obliged by his deference. But she had fully 
 decided, by the end of the evening ; which, as
 
 64 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 she told her aunt, was "one of the pleasantest 
 she ever spent in her life !" 
 
 Frances Lynde was really as lovely in char- 
 acter as Eunice had fancied her. She was 
 highly accomplished, too ; and played and sang 
 for her guests, to the great delight of both. 
 
 On her part, she was very much pleased with 
 Eunice, "Took to her at once," as Dick ex- 
 pressed it, and seemed to find much pleasure 
 in drawing her out of her reserve. Some allu- 
 sion was made to the Sunday-school : 
 
 " Your scholars are about my age, are they 
 not, Miss Lynde ?" Eunice asked. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply ; " that is the first and 
 only class I ever taught. They were little 
 girls when I began, three years ago, but they 
 have grown up, suddenly, on my hands. 
 
 " I have felt as if they ought to be in the 
 Bible Class, or, at least, have a more experi- 
 enced teacher ; but they do not want to leave 
 me, and Mr. Robertson says I must keep the 
 class, by all means, and adapt their studies to 
 their capacity." 
 
 As Eunice still kept her eyes upon her face,
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 65 
 
 with an asking look, Miss Lynde added, 
 " How would you like to join my girte ; as you 
 and I are determined to be good friends ?" 
 
 " Oh, I should like to so much ! " replied 
 Eunice ; " I miss the Sunday-school ; but I did 
 not know as it would be best for me to join a 
 class, only for the winter ; and then, I didn't care 
 so much about it, among strangers, you know." 
 
 " Well then, I shall look for you on Sunday ;" 
 returned Miss Lynde ; " and, by the way, I 
 know you love flowers ; Low would you like to 
 walk out with me, to-morrow? I have an 
 errand to one of our largest green-houses. You 
 do not study on Saturday, do you ? " 
 
 "Indeed, Frances, it is my belief that she 
 would study, or draw, every day and every 
 night, if allowed. But I know her aunt will 
 give you full license to drag her out-doors 
 whenever you can." 
 
 " Then I shall certainly call for you, at two," 
 said Miss Lynde, merrily ; " and you must be 
 sure to wear clogs, or over-shoes, or something 
 to protect your feet ; for we go off the sidewalks 
 
 to reach Kelly's." 
 
 5
 
 66 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " I will," said Eunice ; " I am used to walk- 
 ing in the country, you must remembe.i:." 
 
 This allusion brought up the subject oi 
 Eunice's home, about which her new friend 
 asked questions with so much interest, that 
 Eunice found herself telling ' all about ' each of 
 the children, as to one who was far from being 
 a stranger. 
 
 " That dear little Ranney !" exclaimed 
 Frances : " your uncle's namesake, I suppose ? 
 I should like to see him ! I had just such a 
 little brother once ; as full of life and fun as he 
 could be! It was so amusing to watch his 
 pranks, they seemed to be just the overflowing 
 of health and spirits ! You can imagine how 
 we missed him, when he was taken away, can 
 you not?" 
 
 Eunice assented ; wondering to herself if 
 Miss Frances was ever so impatient with her 
 darling little brother, as she had been with 
 Banney. 
 
 The next day was pleasant, and the walk to 
 the greenhouse was accomplished, Eunice be-
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 67 
 
 coming more and more charmed with her new 
 friend. - 
 
 I wish our young ladies knew how much 
 good they might do, and what warmly attached 
 and grateful life-friends they might often make, 
 by a friendly notice of girls, perhaps five or six 
 years younger than themselves. 
 
 Frances Lynde was like an elder sister to 
 the girls of her class in Sunday-school ; and 
 Eunice felt that she could well understand the 
 glances of admiring love which greeted her, as 
 she took her place among them. 
 
 Some of the members of this class were very 
 interesting girls ; they gave Eunice a cordial 
 welcome, by their manner; and promised to 
 prove very pleasant acquaintances for her. 
 
 The subject of the lesson for the class was a 
 familiar one to Eunice ; the Collect, Epistle and 
 Gospel for the day ; the same which, as we 
 have seen, she was accustomed to prepare at 
 home. 
 
 Miss Lynde studied the lesson diligently her- 
 ivh', before she appeared among her young 
 Bisters in the faith, as their instructress.
 
 68 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 The Sunday on which Eunice joined the 
 class was the Second in Advent, so that the 
 special topic of the day's lesson was the study 
 of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 Very earnestly did the young teacher seek to 
 press home this subject, to the members of her 
 class. 
 
 " Let each of us ask herself, dear girls, 
 whether we do ' in such wise, hear, read, mark, 
 and learn' the Scriptures of truth? Nothing 
 else can nourish our souls ; all the choicest 
 learning of this world is as ' chaff to the wheat,' 
 compared with the Word of God. 
 
 " I want to be very earnest on this point, 
 because I know you all go to school, or are 
 engaged in various studies ; and you are sur- 
 rounded, at other hours, by attractive and 
 interesting books ; and there is much danger 
 lest you be tempted to feed your minds upon 
 these entirely, and so neglect to feed upon 
 and inwardly digest the words of eternal 
 life." 
 
 " Does she mean that for me alone ?" 
 thought Eunice; "how could bhe know now
 
 HOPES FULFILLED. 69 
 
 many times I have forgotten to read my 
 Bible ?" 
 
 Miss Lynde did not know, of course ; nor did 
 she meau to apply her words to Eunice, more 
 than to the others ; except that in the moment 
 of speaking she remembered how Dick had 
 described her eager application to study. 
 
 But her words were well-timed ; and sank 
 into the heart of one of her hearers, at least. 
 
 Some of Miss Lynde's scholars called to see 
 Eunice, during the week, and invited her to 
 visit them. 
 
 One sentiment they had in common, which 
 gave them the aid of something to talk about, 
 in getting acquainted ; that was their admira- 
 tion for Miss Lynde. 
 
 The girls seemed to feel themselves bound 
 to enlighten the new-comer respecting the 
 praiseworthy qualities of their friend and 
 teacher, but Eunice secretly felt quite sure that 
 they did not appreciate and love her as she did 
 already ! 
 
 One of these callers was the very Rhoda 
 Merritt, whom the ladies of the family had
 
 70 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 passed over as too childish to be a companion 
 for Euuice. She was backward, in some re- 
 spects, and very shy. But she seemed to take 
 a great fancy to Euuice, and evidently wished 
 to attach herself to her as a friend. 
 
 Eunice did not at first reciprocate this feeling, 
 and was rather disposed to repulse Rhoda's 
 advances. A thought of the way in which 
 Frances Lynde had treated her, checked this 
 impulse, and moved her to respond cordially to 
 Rhoda's urgent request that she would " come 
 to see her, very soon, and spend the afternoon."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Ifappn Christmas. 
 
 " Now to the Lord sing praises, 
 All you within this place ; 
 And with true lovo and brotherhood 
 Each other now embrace. 
 This holy tide of Christina* 
 All others doth doftice." 
 
 was near; and Eunice 
 had now no lack of enticements to 
 win her from too close study. 
 The parish of St. James was a small one 
 struggling to grow with the growth of popula- 
 tion, in the outskirts of the town. 
 
 There were two other churches, within reason- 
 able distance, which would have afforded Mr. 
 Hartwell's family the advantages only to be 
 enjoyed in communion with an old, firmly 
 established parish ; but, knowing that the new 
 church was much needed in the neighborhood, 
 
 (71)
 
 72 EUNICE SOMEBS. 
 
 they had deemed it their duty to cast in their 
 lot with the young parish, and give it their help 
 and support. 
 
 As Christmas approached, the few workers 
 of St. James' found their hands full ; and 
 Eunice could not but enter into the spirit of 
 her Aunt Edith, and Miss Dora, who were 
 among the most active in preparing for the 
 Christmas Tree for the children, and in decorat- 
 ing the church. 
 
 Perhnps the meetings for work were more 
 attractive to Eunice from the fact that her 
 friend Miss Lynde was always present. 
 
 The Lyndes had joined themselves to St. 
 James' from the same motives which influenced 
 the Hartwells ; and Frances, with her rich 
 voice, her fine taste, and her true devotion, 
 was a treasure to the pastor ; a real helper in 
 his work. 
 
 Eunice had another delightful occupation, 
 during these weeks of Advent. Mrs. Elletfc 
 proposed that she should make up a Christmas 
 box to send home. 
 
 The good lady had a double motive in this
 
 HAITI CHRISTMAS. 73 
 
 proposition : the wish to keep up the interest 
 of her pupil in sewing ; and a desire to reach, 
 in this delicate wa}% and minister to the needy 
 family, of whose real situation she had learned 
 a good deal in her talks with Eunice ; drawing 
 her own inferences, for the girl had quite too 
 much of her father and mother's spirit, to 
 complain, or consciously acknowledge their 
 poverty. 
 
 "Now Eunice, dear; let us put our heads 
 together, and see how many nice useful little 
 things we can get into your box, before it must 
 be sent off. 
 
 " I will find you materials for your work ; 
 but the children, and your mother too, will think 
 so much more of anything you make for them 
 yourself." 
 
 Eunice was delighted with the plan. There 
 was no difficulty in thinking of any number of 
 articles which were just what the children 
 wanted ; and Mrs. Ellett had a good excuse for 
 asking questions now. 
 
 Aunt Dora was commissioned to do the 
 shopping, and she did not ask Eunice's com-
 
 74 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 pany, this time. Mrs. Ellett did not wish her 
 to know the cost of the materials which were 
 to be laid to her hand. The good lady had 
 means of her OWD, aud nothing delighted her 
 more than such an opportunity as this of 
 employing her peculiar talents, and her money, 
 for the benefit of others. 
 
 " Now if we only knew just the sizes we want !" 
 cried Aunt Dora, when the purchases were 
 brought home, and spread upon Aunt Mildred's 
 bed. 
 
 But this difficulty was easily met : Bhoda 
 Merritt had two little sisters, just the age, and, 
 as Eunice felt sure, just the size of Bess and 
 Susy, and the dimensions of apron and frock 
 patterns were obtained from them. 
 
 Aunt Dora did the cutting and fitting ; as 
 she declared nobody in that house had a right 
 to "flourish the shears" but herself ! 
 
 Aunt Edith's machine lightened the work 
 considerably ; and in various ways her kind 
 friends managed that Eunice should not be 
 overtasked in carrying out her scheme ; whilo 
 yet the putting together, and finishing of each
 
 HAPPY CHRISTMAS. 75 
 
 article was clone* by herself. The girl's heart 
 throbbed with grateful appreciation of all this 
 kindness, which she valued far more than if 
 the same amount of labor and expenditure had 
 been bestowed upon herself. 
 
 " Eunice," said her uncle, one day, while the 
 box was under consideration, " I must add some 
 toys, and such like, as my contribution to that 
 box ; and I commission you to select them for 
 me ; you will know best how to please the young 
 folks." And he placed a ten-dollar bill in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Ransom ! you are so kind !" cried 
 Eunice. This was just what she was secretly 
 wishing for ; just afeio playthings, to make the 
 e}~es of the little ones dance. " But this is too 
 much for toys, isn't it ?" she said ; examining 
 the bill with surprise. 
 
 " Oh, I will trust you to make very wise 
 selections; consider it as your own spending 
 money, daughter ; and use it as you please ; 
 you will not find it any too much, I assure you !" 
 
 " But you needn't buy a doll for Bess ; that 
 is my special look out," said her Aunt Edith.
 
 76 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Three days before Christmas, in time to be 
 sure that the box should reach its destination, 
 by express, there was a grand packing in Aunt 
 Mildred's room ; it was done there because the 
 invalid was not able to leave her room, being 
 more poorly than usual; and she was as much 
 interested as Eunice in the business. 
 
 " It was as good as a medicine," Aunt Mildred 
 declared, " to watch the happy face, beaming 
 over the box." 
 
 There were some warm and pretty flannel 
 shirts for George ; Eunice remembered that her 
 mother had his old ones in her mending basket, 
 when she came away, to be patched up, and 
 the sleeves elongated, for another winter. 
 There was a nice overcoat for Ranney ; and a 
 warm bright comforter for each of the boys, 
 which Aunt Mildred knit herself. Then there was 
 the prettiest little dress, with sacque of the same, 
 of soft plaid, for each, of the dear little girls ; 
 and some nice aprons, neatly made and trimmed, 
 and some new warm flannel garments, for little 
 Walter; Eunice smiled as the doubt crossed 
 her mind whether he had ever worn any new
 
 HAPPY CHRISTMAS. 77 
 
 flannel, so far, in his little life! The grandest 
 gift of all was a nice comfortable dressing-gown 
 for her father. 
 
 Eunice knew well how much her mother 
 wished to replace the old one, which had been 
 a great comfort to him, but was quite worn out. 
 She patted each fold, as she prepared to lay it 
 in the box, in a loving satisfied way, which fully 
 repaid Aunt Mildred for her part of the gift. 
 
 Surely the mother was not forgotten ? No : 
 but Eunice had been more puzzled to decide 
 for her than for the others. She knew of 
 enough that was needed, but the articles beiug 
 all rather large, Eunice did not like to speak of 
 them, and Mrs. Ellett did not seem inclined to 
 urge her. 
 
 She would gladly have taken the best part of 
 the ten dollars for this gift; but that would 
 hardly be right, she thought, as her uncle 
 designed it for the children. 
 
 So, reflecting that her mother would enjoy 
 each of the other gifts more than if it were 
 for herself alone, Eunice was obliged to be 
 satisfied with making up a little box of ' medleys'
 
 78 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 for her darling mother, two neat little collars, 
 which she had made herself, lying on top. She 
 had written a little note, bidding her mother 
 fancy all the cracks and interstices crammed 
 with love, when Aunt Edith came to the door 
 with a parcel in her hand. 
 
 "I hope there is room for this, my dear? 
 O yes ; the box is not nearly full yet." 
 
 " But, auntie, what in the world is that ?" 
 
 " Head and see, Miss Curiosity." 
 
 Eunice read, with a glowing face : 
 
 " For Mrs. Somers ; from all the household 
 at No 74 ; a token of g latitude for the loan of 
 her ' right-hand man.' " 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Edith!" was all that Eunice 
 could say. 
 
 " Would you like a peep ?" said Aunt Edith, 
 opening one end of the parcel. 
 
 "Oh, let her see it; spread it out!" said 
 Aunt Mildred. 
 
 A cloak ; actually a new cloak ! how long 
 since her mother had had one ! And a dress 
 pattern of some serviceable Aviuter goods, 
 besides 1
 
 HAPPY CHRISTMAS. 79 
 
 " From all in the house ? where shall I begin 
 to give thanks ?" said Eunice, merrily. 
 
 " One would suppose the parcel was for you, 
 inissie ; but it is no such thing !" said Aunt 
 Edith, folding the cloak again. 
 
 " But if you will undertake the thanks, you 
 must begin with Dick; it was his suggestion 
 that we should unite in a gift." 
 
 Eunice did not forget to ' begin,' as soon as 
 her cousin came home. 
 
 Aunt Edith's skill was needed to finish pack- 
 ing the box. 
 
 The doll for Bess was a beauty ; no such doll 
 had been seen in the Somers' house since the 
 days of Lucilla the Fair ; indeed the charms of 
 this new ' Heart's delight ' even exceeded the 
 memory of hers. 
 
 There was a grand new knife, and an inte- 
 resting book for George ; and various toys and 
 other matters for- Rauney and the little ones ; 
 the selection of which had cost the sister 
 much careful consideration, 'in deciding which 
 playthings would last longest, and best serve 
 the purpose of keeping the young ones amused,
 
 80 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 and out of their mother's way. The choice 
 did credit to her experience as an elder sister ; 
 though it is fair to say that she had the advice 
 of Khoda Herri tt in this important business. 
 
 At last the box was nailed up and directed ; 
 and Eunice felt as if she could hardly wait for 
 the happy letter which should describe its 
 reception at home. 
 
 " How devoted the child is to her parents, 
 and brothers and sisters !" quoth Mrs. Ellett, 
 to her sister-in-law ; " I think I never saw 
 a more loving daughter ; she seems to have 
 noticed and treasured up every want and wish 
 of her mother's." 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell assented ; smiling to herself as 
 she thought how much easier it was to remem- 
 ber the wants of friends, backed by a ready 
 purse, in rilling a Christmas-box, than to 
 minister to these same dear ones, by self- 
 denial, in the daily needs of home-life. She 
 was, however, really pleased with the thought- 
 ful love evinced by her niece in this matter, 
 and felt quite satisfied that her plan was 
 working well, in this respect, as in others.
 
 HAPPY CHRISTMAS. 81 
 
 One more preparation for Christmas, besides 
 those already mentioned, had pleasantly occu- 
 pied Eunice's time and thoughts ; that was, 
 making ready a little token of affection for 
 each member of her uncle's family. She had 
 been occasionally furnished with spending 
 money, by the same indulgent uncle ; and 
 having but few wants, had been able to reserve 
 most of it for this purpose. 
 
 Miss Lynde was a most kind and efficient 
 helper in this matter ; suggesting suitable 
 articles, and showing her how to make them, 
 during sundry pleasant afternoon visits pro- 
 posed for that purpose, which made Aunt 
 Edith wonder at the rapid growth of the 
 intimacy between the two. Eunice did not 
 forget to reserve from her little fund a special 
 offering for Christmas day; she did not quite 
 forget to whose Hand she owed all her present 
 happiness. 
 
 Christmas has a right to one chapter of our 
 " Winter's Tule :" but we should exceed that 
 limit if a full desciiption were given of the 
 
 pleasures of the festive season. Euough to 
 6
 
 82 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 say that the work of the happy hours of 
 preparation just referred to, was accepted with 
 pleased surprise ; and Eunice found, on the 
 Christmas morning, that her friends had in 
 turn well remembered her. 
 
 The Christmas Tree at St. James' was a 
 most gratifying success, and the faithful band 
 of parish workers felt amply rewarded for their 
 exertions by the delightful Christmas services 
 ID which they participated, in their little 
 church. 
 
 Many happy auguries passed from lip to 
 lip, of an increase of prosperity to their infant 
 parish, as a result of their Christmas tide 
 
 And the letter from Mansfield ? Aye, it was 
 duly received ; and read by Eunice first, with 
 both tears and smiles ; and then by each one in 
 the house with sympathizing pleasure. For it 
 spoke of the unbounded joy of the little ones 
 over their treasures ; and of the uplifting of a 
 load of care from the parents, by the well- 
 timed gifts ; and it was full of the true spirit of 
 Christmas ; thankful, reverent joy.
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 Q Cloub grists. 
 
 " We need as much the cross we bear 
 
 As air we breathe, as light we see ; 
 It draws us to Thy side in prayer, 
 It binds us to our strength in Thee." 
 
 | HE Christmas season was over ; and 
 Eunice, realizing that her precious 
 winter was nearly half gone, applied 
 herself with redoubled energy to her studies, 
 and to her drawing. She seemed remarkably 
 well, and her friends had quite given up their 
 anxieties lest she should injure herself by 
 application to study, as she declared she had 
 never felt so strong, and so free from " aches 
 and ails," since she could remember. 
 Miss Lynde, who was becoming more and 
 
 more attached to her loving young friend and 
 
 (83)
 
 84: EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 pupil, was the means of imparting a cheerful 
 variety to her daily life, calling often for her 
 company in a walk, generally with some 
 special object of interest in view ; and inviting 
 her frequently to her own house. 
 
 Dick North declared himself quite jealous of 
 this growing and strengthening friendship. 
 At which Eunice only smiled, for she had 
 reason to suspect that he visited Miss Frances 
 quite as often as she did, to say the least ! 
 
 The girls, her classmates in Sunday-school, 
 proved very pleasant acquaintances. But 
 among them all, to her aunt's surprise, she 
 seemed to care most for the quiet Rhoda. 
 
 As has been before hinted, Eunice was at 
 first led to notice Rhoda by her evident liking 
 for herself; but, as she knew her better, she 
 became deeply interested in the shy, unassum- 
 ing girl; though she could hardly have ex- 
 plained why. Eunice was warmly welcomed 
 at the home of her young friend, and urged to 
 visit them often, which she was not reluctant to 
 do. 
 
 Like herself, Hhoda was the eldest of a
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. 85 
 
 large family of children ; and though there was 
 not the same need of her aid and efforts, in 
 one sense, as the Merritts were in easy circum- 
 stances, yet there were, as in every large 
 family, manifold claims upon the sympathy 
 and good offices of the elder sister. Eunice 
 felt herself fascinated in observing the conduct 
 of her friend Rhoda, in this respect. 
 
 The younger children seemed to think there 
 was no one like "sister" to help them out 
 of any difficulty ; but however frequent and 
 impatient the calls upon her attention, Eunice 
 never heard from her a vexed or angry word. 
 She always met the little claimants with a 
 gentle smile, listened with patient interest to 
 their wants and woes, and if she were not able 
 to grant the request urged, she would at least 
 soothe them, and divert their attention to 
 something else. 
 
 "Rhoda, how can you be so patient? I 
 wonder at you !" 
 
 This exclamation was forced from the lips of 
 Eunice one day, when she was spending an 
 hour or two with her friend. She was trying
 
 86 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 to show her a new " tatting" pattern which she 
 had learned of Miss Lynde. Rhoda Avas quite 
 eager to learn it ; but in the midst of her 
 occupation she was interrupted three or four 
 times, by the children ; one begging to know if 
 she could find his ball ; another toddling 
 up with the request, " Pease make my dolly's 
 dress stay on !" and so on. 
 
 Rhoda laughed at Eunice's remark, and 
 answered merrily : " It is my best policy, you 
 see ; I can satisfy them a great deal sooner 
 if I keep quiet, myself ! And besides," she 
 added, a little gravely, " I never can forget a 
 little verse my mother taught me when I was 
 about as old as Florie, there : 
 
 " Be kind to each other, 
 
 The time's coming on 
 When sister or brother 
 Perhaps may be gone !" 
 
 Eunice was perplexed by the peculiar tone 
 with which Rhoda repeated these simple lines ; 
 she seemed to have a meaning beyond her 
 words ; and as Eunice looked questioningly in 
 her face, she was about to say more ; but her
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. 87 
 
 mother entered the room at that moment, and 
 she playfully changed the subject. 
 
 The matter recurred more than once to 
 Eunice's mind, after she returned home. 
 " Can Rhoda be ill in any way, so bright and 
 lively as she seems ?" thought she. Then she 
 suddenly recollected how, more than once, 
 when she had been with Rhoda, a pallid look 
 had overspread her face, when she was slightly 
 startled or excited; and sometimes she had 
 seen her press her hand upon her side; but 
 when Eunice asked if anything was the matter, 
 she had received an evasive reply. 
 
 Eunice felt uneasy about her friend, and asked 
 her aunt if she knew of her being out of health. 
 But Mrs. Hart well did not, and seemed sur- 
 prised at the question : " She has the appear- 
 ance of perfect health, I think," she observed. 
 
 Eunice intended to question Rhoda the next 
 time they met ; but she saw her again, in a day 
 or two, at Miss Lynde's, and Rhoda seemed so 
 happy and lively, with her two favorite Mends, 
 that Eunice smiled at the remembrance of her 
 anxieties.
 
 88 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 February Lad come ; and Eunice, reminding 
 herself of the fact, as she dressed herself, on 
 the first morning of the short month, felt 
 almost sorry that she had allowed herself to be 
 beguiled into visiting, or spending any time 
 in amusement. 
 
 " I must prepare longer lessons for uncle ;" 
 she murmured to herself ; "he will attend to 
 me as long as I can recite ; and I must get on 
 faster! And my drawing! Positively that 
 piece must be finished to-day !" 
 
 One or two interruptions during her study 
 hours, only increased the girl's desire to finish 
 her self-imposed task. 
 
 Dinner was delayed that evening, and Eunice 
 worked on at her drawing until the bell rang ; 
 although, it being a dull, cloudy day, the light 
 was unusually dim, even for that twilight 
 hour. 
 
 "Come, little daughter! Are you here?" 
 called her uncle, opening the library door, on 
 his way to the dining-room. "What! not 
 draioing, at ever so much past , five o'clock ! 
 You are very imprudent, my dear child ; you
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. 89 
 
 should take better care of your precious ej*e- 
 sight 1" 
 
 As her uncle spoke, Eunice felt painfully 
 conscious of the justice of his remonstrance. 
 She had been annoyed, more than once, within 
 a few days past, by a slight sensation of pain 
 and weakness of the eyes. Never having 
 experienced any difficulty of the kind before, 
 she had paid no attention to it ; but this hour's 
 work, with very insufficient light, had greatly 
 aggravated the troublesome symptoms. Eunice 
 determined secretly not to read or draw at 
 twilight again ; and not to touch a book that 
 evening, except during her recitation hour. 
 
 She was heartily glad to find that her cousin 
 Dick was to be at home that evening, and 
 to hear him propose a game of backgammon. 
 The said game was quite tiresome to Eunice, 
 generally ; and she only took part in it out of 
 politeness to Dick, or to gratify Aunt Mildred, 
 who \vas very fond of it. 
 
 Eunice bathed her eyes carefully when she 
 retired that night ; but with all her cave, the 
 next morning they were much inflamed, and
 
 90 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 pained her a good deal. Happily, as she 
 fancied, no one observed their condition, when 
 the family assembled for prayers and breakfast. 
 Eunice smuggled a small bowl of water into 
 the library with her, to bathe her eyes fre- 
 quently, hoping thus to be able to pursue her 
 studies. 
 
 " I must study!" she ejaculated ; " eyes or no 
 eyes." 
 
 It was well for the reckless girl that Aunt 
 Dora peeped into the library in the course of 
 an hour : 
 
 " Eunice, my love, I am afraid it is too cold 
 here for you : the furnace fire appears to 
 be bewitched this morning ; it will not throw 
 out any heat ! Come into the sitting-room 
 with us awhile ; we will not disturb you." 
 
 As Eunice glanced up to reply, Miss Dora 
 exclaimed, in alarm : 
 
 " Why, my dear child ! what ails your eyes ? 
 They seem to be fearfully inflamed. Do they 
 not pain you ? And here you are using them 
 in this condition ! Put away these books, this 
 instant !"
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. 91 
 
 And without awaiting the answer to her 
 queries, the little woman bustled out of the 
 room, as Eunice knew, to give the alarm. 
 Sure enough, in a few moments she was 
 summoned to an anxious consultation. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell was really worried, on exam- 
 ining the poor eyes, and finding from Eunice's 
 reluctant answers, how long the trouble had 
 been coming on. One prescribed one thing, 
 and another something quite different, until, as 
 Eunice thought to herself, with an inward 
 laugh, " her eyes were in peril of being washed 
 out." 
 
 But all agreed upon a few points ; namely, 
 that Eunice muse not use her eyes in the least ; 
 and must wear a shade, and avoid a bright 
 light. 
 
 Poor child! This was no laughing matter. 
 But her friends exerted themselves to while 
 away the tedious hours, and she could not but 
 feel grateful for their sympathy. And besides, 
 she might only lose one day, or perhaps two ; 
 by taking care of her eyes, surely they would 
 soon be well !
 
 92 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 But the trouble was too deeply seated to be 
 so easily overcome. The pain in her eyes 
 rather increased than diminished towards 
 evening; and when Mr. Hartwell came homo 
 to dinner, and heard his wife's report, and 
 examined the eyes, he at once declared that ifc 
 was not a matter to be trifled with. 
 
 " Dr. Williams is considerable of an oculist ;" 
 said he ; " I suppose he could hardly pronounce 
 upon the case at night, but I will get him to 
 call early to-morrow morning." 
 
 " In the mean time, my dear, be very careful, 
 and do not use your eyes at all." 
 
 Poor Eunice suffered too much with the 
 offending members to be in any danger of dis- 
 regarding this command. 
 
 Her uncle very kindly proposed reading 
 aloud, and chose an entertaining book for the 
 evening ; but Eunice felt too uneasy in body 
 and mind to enjoy it very much. The thought 
 would present itself, again and again : " What 
 if my eyes should grow worse, and I should 
 have to give up my drawing, and all my studies!" 
 
 At an early hour she crept away to bed, and
 
 A CLOUD ABISES. 93 
 
 cried herself to sleep : which did not improve 
 the state of the poor eyes. 
 
 Dr. Williams called the next morning, and 
 made a careful examination. He was a man 
 of few words, and was proceeding to make out 
 a prescription, when Eunice exclaimed : 
 
 " Doctor, please say that I may study very 
 soon again ; it will not hurt me to use my 
 eyes carefully, will it ?" 
 
 " My dear young lady, you are not to think 
 of studying at present ; I fear it will requii-e 
 many days of rest and careful nursing to mako 
 your eyes well and strong again." 
 
 The words smote like lead upon Eunice's 
 heart. 
 
 "When the doctor had given Mrs. Hartwell 
 his directions, and left the house, Eunice went 
 up to her own room. Not now to weep ; she 
 felt too gloomy for that relief; a sullen feeling, 
 almost of despair, held possession of her soul. 
 
 After waiting some time for her to come 
 down, Mrs. Hartwell went up to her room, and 
 found Eunice still lying on the bed, with her 
 face hidden in the pillows.
 
 94 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 " Come, my child," said her aunt, cheerily, 
 " do not feel so badly. I am going round to 
 the apothecary's to have this lotion prepared, 
 and I want you to go with me. I will lend you 
 my thick green veil, and it is so mild and 
 pleasant this morning it will do you good to 
 walk out a little. 
 
 " Then we must stop and let Mr. Neville 
 know why you cannot be with the class to-day. 
 Cheer up, and we will hope you will soon be 
 well again. "When we come back from our 
 walk we will see what else we can find to do, 
 to pass away the time." 
 
 All in the house were full of sympathy for 
 Eunice in her trial, and ready to do all in their 
 power to alleviate it ; but they did not succeed 
 in recalling the cheerful smile and happy look 
 which they had loved to see. 
 
 The heart of the young girl was fall of bitter, 
 rebellious thoughts. 
 
 "Mother said well that I could not escape 
 the cross," she murmured, in the solitude of 
 her own room, where she would gladly have 
 stayed all the day ; " but oh ! if it might have
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. f 
 
 been anything but this. To have to give up 
 all that I came here for, and lose all my oppor- 
 tunities : it is too hard !" 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell wrote to her sister, informing 
 her of Eunice's trouble. 
 
 "The doctor told us, privately," she wrote, 
 "that he feared it was a case which would 
 require long and patient treatment. In fact, 
 though I hope his remedies may sooner effect a 
 cure, it is quite possible that the poor child 
 may not be able to use her eyes much this 
 spring. 
 
 " I anticipate your probable reply to this, my 
 dear sister ; and hasten to beg that you will 
 not urge her return home just yet. 
 
 "At present she is so much depressed by 
 the disappointment, and the sudden interruption 
 of her pursuits, that we cannot seem to say 
 much to comfort her. But we hope, in a day 
 or two, she will become more reconciled to her 
 trial ; and we are planning various ways to 
 curry on a course of instruction, witbout the 
 eyes. 
 
 " There is to be a series of scientific lectures,
 
 96 EUNICE SOMEBS. 
 
 during the next three or four weeks, to which 
 cousin Dick proposes to take her. 
 
 " Then, either sister Mildred, Dora, or I can 
 read to her aloud, in history, and other useful 
 works ; fixing the lesson by questions. 
 
 "The interruption to her drawing, in which 
 she was making very rapid progress, is the 
 most trying part of all ; but then there is the 
 hope that she may soon be able to resume it ; 
 if she were to give up this hope, as she would 
 in returning home now, it would be very hard 
 for her." 
 
 Mrs. Sorners' reply was addressed to Eunice : 
 
 MANSFIELD, Feb. 8. 
 
 " MY DAKLING DAUGHTER : 
 
 " Your Aunt Edith's letter is received, and I 
 feel that I must write at once, to-night, to tell 
 you how much we feel for you, in your trouble. 
 
 " Your father and I know well that this is a 
 severe trial to our eager, ambitious Eunie ; 
 and we hope and pray that our dear girl has 
 sought of the Lord grace to bear this trial sub- 
 missively and cheerfully, as a Christian should.
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. y? 
 
 " Perhaps, my love, there was need that you 
 should pause awhile in a prosperous and joyous 
 career, and look within. Perhaps our Lord 
 s;i\v that amid the abundance of His good gifts 
 there was danger that you might forget the 
 Giver. 
 
 "Try to feel assured, my Eunice, that all 
 which He orders is for the best. 
 
 41 ' Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 My Light, my Life is He, 
 Who cannot will me anght but good, 
 I trust Him utterly: 
 For well I know, 
 In joy or woe, 
 
 We soon shall see, as sunlight clear, 
 How faithful was our Guardian here.' 
 
 " Tour kind auntie seems to be devising ways 
 to keep you pleasantly occupied still : say to 
 her, witli my love, that I think she is right, 
 and that I thank her heartily for all her kind- 
 ness. 
 
 " Good-by, my dear child ; I trust your dark 
 hours will be brightened by faith, hope, and 
 love. MOTHER." 
 
 Eunice silently handed this letter to her Aunt 
 7
 
 98 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Edith to read, in reply to her questioning look ; 
 and, when it was returned, retreated with it to 
 her own room. 
 
 She knew she must not pore over it, with her 
 bodily eyes ; but there was no need ; the words 
 of the letter had served to arouse a train of 
 thought ; self-accusing, reproachful thoughts, 
 they were. 
 
 " How ungrateful they must have thought 
 me here !" she whispered, " to be so sullen, 
 when they are all doing so much to comfort me." 
 
 And conscience added : " How ungrateful 
 I have been to my Heavenly Father ! ' Shall 
 we receive good at the hand of the Lord, and 
 shall we not receive evil ?' ' : 
 
 These salutary musings were interrupted by 
 a summons to the parlor, where Eunice found 
 her friend Miss Lynde. 
 
 She had heard of the young girl's trouble, 
 and called at once to sjmpathize with, and 
 cheer her. 
 
 She proposed to go over the lesson for the 
 next day with Eunice, it being Saturday, that 
 she might be prepared with the class.
 
 A CLOUD ARISES. 99 
 
 The next day was Septuagesima Sunday ; 
 sind Eunice's reflections upon her mother's 
 letter had so humbled her that she was able 
 sincerely to make the words of the Collect her 
 own : 
 
 "We beseech Thee favorably to hear the 
 prayers of Thy people ; that we who are justly 
 punished for our offences, may be mercifully 
 delivered by Thy goodness, for the glory of 
 Thy name."
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 daubs gljofo tlje SHber fitting. 
 
 " Thy truer self to thee returns, 
 A higher hope within thee glows. 
 
 Nothing too costly to lay down 
 For Him whose smile pays every loss : 
 Could we but see it, there's a crowii 
 Hangs, halo like, round every cross." 
 
 over, Eunice showed the 
 benefit of its means of grace, by en- 
 tering with a comparatively cheerful 
 and hopeful spirit, upon the new arrangements 
 proposed for her. Her eyes were no better, 
 that she could perceive, except that she suffered 
 less actual pain than when the acute attack 
 first came on. She was very faithful in apply- 
 ing the prescribed remedies ; and Dr. Williams 
 encouraged her by saying that she was doing 
 better than he had at first anticipated : Eunice 
 
 (100)
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LINING. 101 
 
 mentally wondered what he could have antici- 
 pated worse than this ! 
 
 The doctor was of opinion that with due 
 caution in protecting the eyes from the light, 
 and from dust and wind, his young patient 
 would do better with as much out-door exer- 
 cise as she had been accustomed to ; perhaps 
 even more. It was desirable, he told her aunt, 
 to keep up the tone of her general health, and 
 her cheerfulness of mind. 
 
 So there was no objection to the attendance 
 upon the scientific lectures, guarding carefully 
 against a chill in coming out into the night 
 air. 
 
 At least, so Mrs. Hartwell thought ; but, the 
 day after attending the second lecture, the poor 
 eyes were so much worse, that it was evident it 
 would not do for Eunice to go out at night. 
 
 This was a new disappointment, for Eunice 
 had already become very much interested in 
 the course ; but she was learning her lesson of 
 patient submission, and bore this decision very 
 cheerfully. 
 
 Her cousin Dick was quite impressed by her 

 
 102 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 manner, knowing well how much she had en- 
 joyed the lectures. 
 
 " I believe," said he, " it was watching the 
 experiments, that tried her eyes, more than 
 being out in the evening. There is to be a 
 pretty good concert next week, Tuesday ; can I 
 take her to that ? She can listen to the music 
 with her eyes shut." 
 
 It was well that Eunice was out of hearing 
 of this tempting proposal; she was nearly as 
 fond of music as of drawing, and had thoroughly 
 enjoyed the two or three concerts to which she 
 had been treated, during the winter. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell shook her head : " The hall 
 will be brightly lighted," she said, " and I am 
 afraid there will be a good deal of risk : it is 
 better to be on the safe side." 
 
 History flourished, almost as well as if the 
 young student had the use of her eyes. Mrs. 
 Hartwell read remarkably well, so that it was a 
 pleasure to listen to her : she asked questions, 
 at the close of each reading, reviewing occa- 
 sionally. 
 
 For another exercise, she read choice
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LINING. 103 
 
 passages of prose or poetry, which Eunice was 
 to analyze ami parse. 
 
 Mr. Hart well declared he would not be de- 
 prived of his hour with his pupil, after dinner ; 
 and with a good deal of ingenuity, he managed 
 that she should not lose, but really make addi- 
 tional progress in her Latin ; exercising her in 
 a review of the Grammar, and in, translating 
 passages which he read to her. 
 
 He also carried on a very improving mental 
 drill in mathematics ; and laughingly declared 
 that if other professions failed, he should set 
 himself up as a teacher of the blind. 
 
 Mrs. Ellett continued quite feeble ; indeed, 
 had Eunice not been disabled, she would 
 hardly have been able to continue the sewing 
 lessons. 
 
 During the rebellious days after the trouble 
 with her eyes began, Eunice scarcely saw her 
 gentle old friend. Mrs. Ellett was not able to 
 go down to meals, or to enjoy her customary 
 drives; and Eunice avoided her room, because 
 she could not bear to be questioned about her 
 eyes.
 
 104 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 On the afternoon of thab Sunday on which a 
 better spirit took possession of her heart, she 
 went in to sit with the old lady awhile after 
 church, and was so warmly and affectionately 
 greeted that her heart smote her for her 
 negligence. 
 
 "I thought my darling had forgotten that 
 Aunt Mildred was here, wishing for her 
 sunbeam." 
 
 " I am afraid I have not been a sunbeam to 
 any one, lately," returned Eunice, kissing the 
 soft hand she held. 
 
 " It does me good to see a bright young face, 
 my dear ; and yours cannot be overcast long, 
 because you know who chooses for us our good 
 and ill" 
 
 And little Aunt Dora-, how was her sympathy 
 manifested ? Firstly, in her own most natural 
 way ; by keeping watch over Eunice's wardrobe, 
 with additional care, " because the poor child 
 couldn't take a stitch for herself, now." To say 
 truth, never had her mending been so neatly 
 and thoroughly done, since it fell into the 
 young lady's charge, as now.
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LINING. 105 
 
 One morning, Miss Dora had come into 
 Eunice's room with some stockings which she 
 had darned, as Eunice was dusting her bureau. 
 A half sigh escaped her, as she placed in an 
 orderly pile her Bible and Prayer-book, and 
 one or two little books for private devotional 
 reading. Meeting Miss Dora's glance, she said : 
 " It seems so strange that I must not use these !" 
 
 " Have you a ' Daily Food,' my dear? I 
 mean a little book with a text for each day, 
 you know." 
 
 Eunice had not : and Miss Dora left the 
 room, returning in a moment with a tiny 
 volume in her hand. 
 
 " I will give you this, my dear, if you will 
 accept it; and I must tell you why I 
 thought of it. 
 
 " I had a friend once who for many years 
 had been unable to walk, except a few steps 
 with crutches. She lay on her back through 
 the greater part of every day. And this was 
 not all ; she was afflicted also with some dis- 
 ease of the eyes, so that she could not use 
 them at all, in readiug or sewing.
 
 106 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 "But she always kept a copy of this little 
 Daily Food under lier pillow. 'Her eyes 
 must serve her,' she said, ' to read one verse a 
 clay for herself;' though for all beside she must 
 depend upon the kind offices of others. So I 
 thought, my dear, you might like to adopt the 
 same plan." 
 
 Eunice thankfully received the little volume, 
 saying it was just what she wanted. 
 
 Miss Dora smoothed the bureau cover with 
 her fingers, hesitatingly, and then added : " If 
 you would like it, my dear, seeing that you 
 cannot read for yourself, you might come to 
 my room between nine and ten in the morning ; 
 that is, when I get through my little chores 
 about the house, you know. 
 
 " I have a quiet little time to myself then ; 
 and if you have a mind to come in, I can read 
 aloud, and so share my portion with you ; we 
 will each try to feel as if we were all alone." 
 
 "I should like to, Aunt Dora; thank } 7 ou; 
 is it time now?" said Eunice. 
 
 Miss Dora assented, and led the way to her 
 own room ; a small chamber which was ex-
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER UNING. 107 
 
 clusively hers, although she generally slept 
 with her invalid charge. 
 
 Eunice would have been sorry to betray how 
 much she was surprised by this proposal. 
 Miss Dora was the last one of the household, 
 Dick excepted, from whom she would have ex- 
 pected it. She had formed her own opinion of 
 the bustling little woman, as one whose religion 
 was rather overgrown by worldliness. How 
 ashamed she felt of her self-satisfied compari- 
 sons, and uncharitable judgments, while seated 
 by her Aunt Dora's side, that morning ! 
 
 The offer had not been made without a 
 struggle on the part of the humble-minded 
 Christian, who was not accustomed to vaunt 
 her piety ; and it was with a somewhat tremu- 
 lous tone that she began her customary reading, 
 in the presence of another. Gradually the 
 tremor disappeared, and the reader seemed 
 absorbed in her occupation, as if unconscious 
 of an auditor, or only remembering that she 
 too needed the " water" which she was seeking 
 to draw, " from the wells of salvation." 
 
 These third-hour devotions consisted in
 
 108 EUNICE SOMEBS. 
 
 reading the psalms for the clay, and the second 
 morning lesson ; also a few passages from " The 
 Imitation of Christ," or some other work of 
 similar character, and a brief arrangement of 
 prayers for the hour, which called forth the 
 soul of the youthful Christian, in unison with 
 their fervent words, as they were meekly 
 uttered by her companion. When they arose 
 from their knees, Eunice gave this true friend 
 a kiss, and a whispered " Thank you," and 
 quietly left the room. 
 
 To no one else did she speak of this privi- 
 lege, as she felt it to be ; but it proved a great 
 help to her during the season of trial which 
 had but just begun. 
 
 Frances Lyncle was by no means forgetful of 
 the added claims of her young friend upon her 
 attention. 
 
 Eunice greatly enjoyed running around to 
 spend an hour or two with her, and was fully 
 satisfied to sit beside her, watching her at 
 work, and listeniug to her pleasant and improv- 
 ing talk ; and more than satisfied if Miss Lynde 
 remembered to lay down the work awhile and
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LINING. 109 
 
 play for her, or sing, with her rich voice, some 
 touching ballad, or sacred melody. 
 
 " Do you never sing yourself, Eunice ?" she 
 asked ouce, impressed with her evident enjoy- 
 ment of the music. 
 
 "I? O no! At least, I used to at home, 
 after my fashion ; just to put baby to sleep." 
 
 Miss Lynde smiled, and was about to ask 
 her to sing a familiar strain with her, to test 
 her toice ; but was interrupted by some callers. 
 A day or two afterward, she called at Mrs. 
 Hartwell's iii the morning, and finding Eunice 
 with her aunt, said playfully : 
 
 " I am come to take this benighted girl, with 
 your permission, to hear a rehearsal of the 
 oratorio which is to be performed to-morrow 
 evening ; I think this is the last rehearsal, and 
 it will be about as fine as the actual perform- 
 ance." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to have her hear it," 
 said Mrs. Hartwell ; " it is very kind of you to 
 think of her. Run, my dear, and get ready ; 
 we will excuse the history to-day." 
 
 Eunice was not long in dressing, and soon
 
 110 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 re-appeared, with eyes that danced in spite of 
 their ailing. 
 
 " Let me tie your veil closely, dear ; there is 
 a good deal of wind this morning. Mrs. Hart- 
 well, do not be surprised if you do not see this 
 troublesome charge of yours until nightfall. I 
 suppose I must not keep her out for the 
 evening, but I want her all day." 
 
 It was the Oratorio of The Messiah, to which 
 Eunice was privileged to listen that morning ; 
 it was really well performed ; and no lover of 
 good music need be told how she enjoyed it. 
 
 The Lyndes dined at two, so that they were 
 summoned to dinner soon after they reached 
 the house. 
 
 Perhaps the excitement of the morning and 
 the absence of luncheon, had something to do 
 with it, but Eunice fancied it was the earlier 
 hour which gave her such an excellent appetite ; 
 she had never become quite used to the late 
 dinners which her uncle's business made neces- 
 sary. 
 
 After dinner Miss Lynde was obliged to leave 
 her young guest by herself for a short time ;
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER LINING. Ill 
 
 and, returning unexpectedly to the parlor, she 
 was surprised to hear her singing to herself 
 one of the airs from the oratorio they had just 
 heard. 
 
 She played the part of listener for a few 
 moments, until the young singer became con- 
 scious that she was likely to be heard, and 
 ceased suddenly. 
 
 Then she entered, and said, merrily, " What 
 voice could I have overheard, warbling that 
 aria ? There is no one here but a child, who 
 says she cannot sing." 
 Eunice blushed ; but her friend went oh : 
 " Seriously, my dear child, I judge from that 
 little performance that you have quite a sweet 
 voice, as well as a quick ear for music ; come, 
 let us try it again, together." 
 
 Miss Lynde had the music of the aria, which 
 was " Come unto Me ;" and having found it, 
 and placed it open upon the piano, she called 
 Eunice to her side, and insisted that she should 
 try it with her. 
 
 Eunice's voice was weak and frightened at 
 first; but on going over the piece the second
 
 112 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 time, she gained confidence, and came out upon 
 the high notes with a sweet, clear tone which 
 delighted her friend. 
 
 " My dear, I am afraid one of your talents 
 has been quite undervalued and lost sight of; 
 but I am determined it shall be so no longer." 
 
 " Do you know," continued Miss Lynde, in 
 her sprightly way, wheeling round upon the 
 piano stool, and seizing Eunice's hands in her 
 own, I am very selfishly glad to have made 
 this discovery just now." 
 
 " Why, pray?" 
 
 " Because, you remember, Lent begins next 
 week; Mr. Kobertson likes to have at least a 
 hymn at the early services, if we cannot have 
 the chants ; but it is very hard getting our 
 singers to attend, and .so, as I do not like to 
 disappoint him, or to have the service entirely 
 without music, I have often been obliged to 
 lead off all alone. But now I shall rely upon 
 having a helper always on hand. 
 
 " And we will make a bargain, if your aunt is 
 willing. You shall help me in the choir ; and 
 I will give you lessons ; that is, you know, we
 
 KOTUCE AXD MT8S T.YNDE. PAGE 112.
 
 THE CLOUDS SHOW THE SILVER UNING. 113 
 
 will have little private rehearsals of our own ; 
 and I will teach you all I can without calling 
 the eyes into request too much." 
 
 There was no need to ask if this plan was 
 satis f actoiy ; at least the latter part of it. 
 Eunice had never had any instruction in music. 
 She shrank a little from the idea of singing 
 in church, but would not refuse, if she could 
 really help Miss Lynde in her somewhat 
 arduous duties. 
 
 And so a new and unexpected opportunity 
 for usefulness, and self-improvement, opened 
 up before Eunice; for her Aunt Edith, far 
 from objecting, was much gratified by Miss 
 Lynde's kind proposition ; though surprised 
 by her opinion of her niece's voice and musical 
 taste, having seldom heard her attempt to 
 sing. 
 
 8
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'Teach us, as we pass along, 
 
 In the shining of Thy face. 
 Many a sweet thanksgiving song, 
 Even in a dreary place ...... 
 
 " In the shadow of Thy hand 
 
 We can brave the uprooting gale ; 
 And n little child may stand 
 Where a soldier's heart would fail/ 
 
 LETTER from her mother informed 
 Eunice that Kanney had had a fall, 
 the effects of which alarmed them 
 for a time ; but that he seemed to be getting 
 over it nicely, and they had relinquished their 
 fears of permanent injury. 
 
 The same letter stated that Mr. Somers was 
 gaining constantly, and was better able to 
 attend to business than he had been in two or 
 
 three years. " The children are well ; and 
 (114)
 
 RHODA. 115 
 
 we are all getting on finely," continued the 
 writer. 
 
 " The children were preparing their Sunday- 
 school lessons together, last week: Kanney 
 received the explanation that the word Lent 
 means ' Spring.' 
 
 " Bessie overheard it, and exclaimed, joyfully, 
 ' Oh ! Then if spring is most here, it will soon 
 be time for Eunice to come home, for she was 
 to stay " all winter," and whiter is done !' 
 
 " You see, darling, that your return is joy- 
 fully looked forward to by those at home. 
 
 " Aunt Edith and Bessie would disagree in 
 the application of the term ' all winter ;' but I 
 suppose we may look for you at home soon 
 after Easter, although I shall defer to your 
 auntie's wishes in . settiug a time for your 
 return. In the mean time, be assured that we 
 all love you dearly, and shall be glad to see 
 you when the time comes." 
 
 Euuice was preparing to go and see Ehoda, 
 when this letter was received, and it gave her 
 food for thought, as she walked along. 
 
 "To-inorrow is Ash Wednesday; yes, and it
 
 116 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 is the very last day of winter, at least of the 
 winter months. How soon Easter will be 
 here! And I cannot begin to use my eyes 
 yet : my drawing lessons are over, I am 
 afraid ; oh dear !" 
 
 Just then, in turning a corner, she en- 
 countered Mr. Neville. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Somers, well met ! I have been 
 wishing to be able to call and inquire after my 
 truant pupil. The eyes are well, by this time, 
 I hope ; you have not lost your interest in our 
 beautiful art, have you ?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" Eunice protested; and ex- 
 plained that she was not yet permitted the use 
 of her eyes. 
 
 Mr. Neville looked a little incredulous, and 
 expressing the hope that she might soon 
 recover, bowed and passed on. 
 
 " I wonder if the man thinks I don't care to 
 pursue my lessons?" muttered Eunice, quite 
 vexed. 
 
 On the whole, she was not in the most 
 amiable of moods when she reached the 
 house of her friend.
 
 RHODA. 117 
 
 Rhoda soon perceived the lack of her usual 
 cheerful manner, and after a one-sided chat, 
 prolonged for some little time, ventured to 
 inquire what had disturbed her friend. 
 
 " Oh, nothing new !" replied Eunice ; " only 
 I met Mr. Neville on the way, and was re- 
 minded afresh of my disappointment." 
 
 "About your eyes? Mr. Neville was your 
 drawing-teacher, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes : oh, Rhoda ! you can't begin to under- 
 stand how hard it is ! I thought I was getting 
 on so well ; and I was trying so hard to 
 improve this precious winter ! Why should I be 
 laid aside in this way? I cannot feel as if 
 it were right !" 
 
 " Oh, Eunice dear ! You do not mean that ! 
 You and I know better." 
 
 "Ah! It is very easy to 'know,' and to 
 ' talk ;' but if you had such a trial, you would 
 not find it easy always iofeel just right." 
 
 " No ; it is not always easy, but we can 
 get help, you know, dear." 
 
 "Wait until you are put out in all j'our 
 plans, and see if you don't feel naughty some-
 
 118 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 times. You have nothing in the world to try 
 you yet, and you cannot understand." 
 
 " Oh, Eunice !" The exclamation was almost 
 a cry, as if the words of her friend hurt her ; 
 but Ehoda added instantly, in her own quiet 
 tone: " I think I can understand, dear; perhaps 
 I have a trial too, though I do not want to feel 
 it such." 
 
 Eunice glanced wonderingly at the speaker, 
 and again she noticed the sudden paleness 
 which she had observed before. 
 
 "Ehoda, what do you mean? Please tell 
 me. Are you ill?" she asked, passing her 
 arm affectionately around her companion's 
 waist. 
 
 Bhoda paused before answering, and Eunice 
 perceived that this pause, so habitual with her, 
 and which, had the appearance of hesitation 
 and shyness, was in order to gain calmness ; 
 for she could feel the rapid beating of her 
 heart, and was surprised at her seeming agita- 
 tion. 
 
 " I thought you knew, Eunice, at least, my 
 friends generally know, that I have a disease of
 
 RHODA. 119 
 
 the heart, which may at any time cause my 
 death." 
 
 Eunice with difficulty repressed the startled 
 exclamation which rose to her lips. She did 
 not trust herself to speak, but clasped Rhoda's 
 hand with a loving pressure which spoke her 
 sympathy. 
 
 " I used to think, before I knew this," con- 
 tinued Rhoda, " that I should so love to 
 study, to study real hard, I mean, as you 
 like to do. But you see, all I can do now, is 
 to try to keep quiet, and live a little longer for 
 my dear parents' sake ; they would miss their 
 useless little girl." 
 
 This was said in a cheerful, even playful 
 tone, and with a smile which went to the heart 
 of her friend. 
 
 " Oh, Rhoda ! And you are so patient and 
 happy, with this before your mind ; and I have 
 been so rebellious, just because I have to stop 
 for a little while. But I don't see how you can 
 be so calm so satisfied !" said Eunice, turning 
 so as to look full in Rhoda's face. 
 
 All was explained now; that which had
 
 120 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 so puzzled her, and that which had attracted 
 her so much, in Rhoda. 
 
 Eunice recalled at once her manner with the 
 little ones, and her reply, on that subject. 
 She remembered, also, the peculiar watchful 
 tenderness of her parents towards her, and 
 also of Miss Lynde, and of some of her young 
 companions : they had known, evidently ; it was 
 strange that Eunice had not learned tins 
 before. 
 
 " There ! you have said it in the very words 
 of my favorite hymn; the next line answers 
 you, the only answer I can give : 
 
 "So safe, so calm, so satisfied 
 The souls that cling to Thee ! 
 
 "Blest is our lot, whate'er befall : 
 What can affright, or who appall ? 
 Since as our Strength, our Bock, our all, 
 Jesus, we cling to Thee !" 
 
 " Dear Rhoda ! Teach me to be like you. I 
 wish I had your faith!" 
 
 " We are in the same school, Eunice, and we 
 have the same ever kind teacher. / cannot
 
 RHODA. 121 
 
 teach you, but we will help each other learn ; 
 wont we-?" 
 
 A smile, dimmed with tears, was all the 
 answer Eunice could give. 
 
 "Areu't you glad that Lent begins to- 
 morrow ?" said llhoda ; " and we are to 
 have daily services, at eight o'clock, you know ; 
 I do hope I shall be able to go to every 
 one." 
 
 " I want to, too ;" said Eunice, but I suppose 
 I shall iniss some ; Aunt Edith is so particular 
 about my going out when it is at all wet, 011 
 account of my eyes ; and we are apt to have 
 some damp mornings at this season." 
 
 " Mother says ' no ' to me, sometimes, too ; 
 E have not felt quite as well as usual lately, 
 and they are very careful of me. But we will 
 go when we can, both of us, wont we ?" 
 
 Eunice assented, and told llhoda of her 
 singing engagements with Miss Lynde. 
 
 " How nice ! I am so glad for you. What 
 a dear friend she is, isn't she ?" 
 
 Another hearty assent. " How beautifully 
 she explained, lust Sunday," continued Eunice,
 
 122 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " about the use of Lent ; and how earnestly she 
 talked to us." 
 
 "Yes: you know, Eunice, that you and I 
 are the only ones in the class who are confirmed, 
 and communicants ; and Miss Lynde is very 
 anxious to have Celia and Kitty, and the rest 
 prepared to come forward to the Confirmation, 
 just after Easter." 
 
 " Perhaps ive can help influence them ; let 
 us watch and see." 
 
 " Yes, we will," replied Khoda, " but, do you 
 know, I think you can do more in influencing 
 them than I can ; for when I say anything, they 
 give me a pitying sort of look, as much as to 
 say : ' No wonder you think of such things, 
 with one foot in the grave, as it were.' " 
 
 "But you are strong and well as any of 
 them ! O Ehoda !" Eunice could not repress a 
 shudder; "how can you speak so? It does 
 seem as if it could not be as you think ; how 
 should the doctors know ?" 
 
 " They don't know ; they cannot tell how 
 long I may live ; it may be years it may be 
 but a few hours.
 
 RHODA. 123 
 
 " Why should you feel so badly to hear me 
 speak of it, dear ? I am not afraid ; my Father 
 knows the time, the best time. 
 
 " And after all, which of us can tell how soon 
 we may be called to die ? We all need to be 
 rejuly, just the same." 
 
 Here little Florie ran in, claiming her sister's 
 attention, which claim was never disregarded. 
 
 Eunice sat by, watching the movements of 
 her friend, as hi a dream. 
 
 "Poor Jack in the box! Does he want to 
 come out and get some fresh air ? 
 
 " But he is not hopelessly imprisoned," con- 
 tinued Ehocla, playfully. " Take care, pet ; he 
 will spring out and bump your little nose. 
 There!" 
 
 And the bent catch being unfastened, up flew 
 the cover, to the child's great delight. 
 
 RlioJa's eyes reflected the light-hearted glee 
 of little Florie, as she turned again to Eunice. 
 
 Others of the family soon came in, and the 
 talk became general. Indeed, it was not often 
 that Bhoda spoke so much and so freely of her 
 owii feelings, as she had done that afternoon.
 
 124 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 Eunice went home with a full heart, and 
 could not soon put from her thoughts this con- 
 versation with her young friend. 
 
 In the evening, chancing to be alone, as she 
 supposed, with Miss Dora, she began to tell 
 her about Rhoda's situation. 
 
 It was easier now to speak to her, on any 
 subject upon which she felt deeply, than to any 
 one else in the house. 
 
 She was describing the calmness of her 
 young friend, in speaking of her constant 
 danger, when Dick emerged from a comer, 
 where he had been half asleep in an easy 
 chair, and joined in the conversation. 
 
 "Is it that quiet little Rhoda Merritt who is 
 such a heroine?" he asked. 
 
 Eunice hesitated ; she was sorry to find that 
 he had overheard her, feeling that he would 
 not understand. 
 
 " I do not think that word belongs to 
 Rhoda," she said, at last; "not in the sense 
 you mean, Cousin Dick." 
 
 " How then would you describe her ?" 
 
 Eunice glanced at her Aunt Dora, hoping
 
 KHODA. 125 
 
 slie would come to the rescue ; but her head 
 was bent over her work. 
 
 "I think she is a real Christian;" she 
 replied, in a low voice ; and that is why she is 
 not afraid to die." 
 
 Dick said nothing, but seemed waiting for 
 Eunice to go on. 
 
 " But it is not only that she seems willing to 
 die when the time comes: she is willing to 
 live, just as she must, you know. I think that is 
 the hardest thing, after all." 
 
 "How must she live ?" 
 
 " Why, I mean, that she cannot follow out her 
 plans; she has to give up so many things, 
 because she must not tire herself, or get 
 excited. But she is so gentle and sweet ; and so 
 patient with the children. I think it is lovely !" 
 
 " And that, you would say, is an example of 
 Christian faith ?" said Dick. 
 
 There was no levity in his tone ; and Eunice, 
 meeting his glance, as she answered "Yes," 
 was thrilled with a new pleasure. 
 
 "Did Cousin Dick understand? Did he 
 really care ?"
 
 126 
 
 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 And while she rejoiced that he could appre- 
 ciate the character of her young friend, Eunice 
 felt humbled to think how little of the fruits of 
 faith he had witnessed, in his daily intercourse 
 with herself.
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 " Think that He thy ways beholdeth: 
 He unfoldeth 
 
 Every fault that lurks within ; 
 He the hidden shame glossed over 
 Can discover, 
 And discern each deed of sin." 
 
 JN the services of Ash Wednesday, 
 Eunice sang for the first time, beside 
 her friend, in the choir. 
 It was a new experience to her, and the 
 novelty might have drawn off her thoughts, in 
 a great degree, from the solemn service, but 
 for the example of reverent attention and 
 devotion, which she had in Miss Lynde. 
 
 It was easy for her to follow the chants and 
 tunes, which were simple and familiar; and 
 Miss Lynde thanked her, after church, saying : 
 " I know you will help me very much ; and our 
 
 (127)
 
 T23 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 church is small ; I do not think it will straic 
 your voice to sing in it. Did you not find it 
 easy?" 
 
 " O yes ! I am sure it will do me no harm." 
 
 " "We must try to feel what a privilege it is to 
 help thus in the worship of God's house," said 
 Miss Lynde, affectionately, drawing the hand of 
 her companion within her arm, as they turned 
 towards home : " and we must try to ' sing with 
 the spirit, and with the understanding also,' and 
 not render a heartless or unmeaning service." 
 
 "What a privilege it is!" This was, to say 
 the truth, a new thought to Eunice ; she had 
 felt just a little lifted up at the idea of helping 
 the choir, as if she were doing something worthy 
 of thanks and praise. 
 
 Was she alone and singular in this respect ? 
 Is it not too generally the feeling of those whom 
 God has gifted with ' tuneful powers,' that they 
 confer a favor upon Him, or at least, upon His 
 worshipping assembly, by employing this talent 
 in the service of His courts ? 
 
 " Aunt Dora," whispered Eunice, that evening, 
 " what will you do now about our quiet hour?" .
 
 LENTEN LESSONS. 129 
 
 The daily service at church being appointed 
 at eight, would interfere with the usual reading 
 in Miss Dora's room. 
 
 " Of course, dear, we will give way to the 
 public worship, and attend that, when we can. 
 And we will try to secure a few moments at the 
 ' ninth hour,' that is about three o'clock, for 
 our reading, if you like." 
 
 Thus Eunice began her Lent, fully purposing 
 to make a diligent use of all her privileges and 
 means of grace, and to abstain from everything 
 which might hinder her in fulfilling this pur- 
 pose. 
 
 "Was she tempted to self-complacence in view 
 of her resolves and arrangements ? If so, 
 before many days, she had a lesson upon her 
 own weakness. 
 
 She had met one of her classmates, Celia 
 Aruott, at the church door, after service one morn- 
 ing, and walked with her on her way to school. 
 
 The opportunity offered for a few serious 
 words, using her Christian influence, as Rhoda 
 Lad urged her to do.; and Eunice had not 
 shrunk from the duty.
 
 130 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Returning home, with a secret self-satisfaction 
 at her heart, she laid aside her things, and 
 sought the rest of the family. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell and Miss Dora, as she recol- 
 lected, had gone on some errands after church. 
 Mrs. Ellett's door was locked, and her gentle 
 voice responded to Eunice's knock : " In a few 
 moments, my love : I am sorry I am not quite 
 ready !" 
 
 So Eunice strolled down-stairs: the library 
 door was open, and she went in, and looked 
 around. 
 
 "Dear books! Dear old chair! I wish I 
 could sit right down and go to work ! Ah ! 
 There is the book uncle was speaking of, as so 
 interesting 1" 
 
 Eunice peeped within the covers ; a sentence 
 attracted her, and she read it. and then another, 
 and a page beyond ; and so on, forgetful of all 
 else, until brought to herself by a sudden dart- 
 ing pain through her eyes. 
 
 At the same moment, she heard her Aunt 
 Edith's voice, as she opened the hall door; 
 and, conscious how long she must have been
 
 LENTEN LESSONS. 131 
 
 reading, she sped up-stairs to her own room, 
 like a guilty thing. 
 
 " How could I? oh, how could I do it! " sho 
 exclaimed, penitently bathing the ill-used eyes. 
 " When I cannot even read my Bible, and 
 ought to try so hard to get well! " 
 
 Very humbling were her reflections, as she 
 dwelt upon her fault, while awaiting her Aunt 
 Edith's summons to her history lesson ; but 
 perhaps they were more profitable, and more in 
 accordance with the spirit of the season, than 
 the feelings of some previous hours. 
 
 This was Friday. The next morning, after 
 service, Eunice went home with Miss Lynde, 
 for her music lesson, as she styled it, and as in 
 truth it was ; although the appellation excited 
 the teacher's merriment. 
 
 " Pray do not describe my method of teach- 
 ing, my dear," she said, " if you undertake to 
 recommend me as a music teacher; or at 
 least explain that my pupil was forbidden to 
 use her eyes! By the way, how are those 
 eyes? I have been hoping to hear you say 
 that they were ever so much better ! "
 
 132 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " They are not better to-day" replied Eunice, 
 blushing; "and it is all through my fault," 
 she continued, moved to confess her wrong- 
 doing to this kind and true friend. 
 
 " That is a specimen of my self-denial ; 
 losing all that my eyes held gained, in reading a 
 romance ; and one, too, that uncle had prom- 
 ised to read aloud to us, some time ! 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lynde ! the harder I try to be 
 good, the worse I grow ! " 
 
 " Not so, my darling ! But the more sincerely 
 you try to be good, the more plainly you see 
 that you 'have no power to help yourself,' as 
 our collect for to-morrow expresses it: have 
 you studied that collect yet ? " 
 
 Eunice had not ; and her friend brought the 
 book, proposing that they should go over the 
 lesson together. 
 
 " Please read it again : what a precious col- 
 lect that is ! " said Eunice, earnestly. 
 
 " Almighty God, who seest that we have no 
 power of ourselves to help ourselves, keep us 
 both outwardly in our bodies, and inwardly in 
 our souls > that we may be defended fcoin lull
 
 LENTEN LESSONS. 133 
 
 adversities which may happen to the body, and 
 from all evil thoughts which may assault and 
 hurt the soul ; through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 " Yes ; it is a precious collect ! " said Miss 
 Lynde ; " it is just what my dear girl wants, in 
 every way ; is it not ? " she added, putting her 
 hand, meaningly, upon her companion's eyes. 
 
 "I do not deserve to have the prayer 
 answered in that way ! " said Eunice. 
 
 " No, dear ; and we do not ask for our deserts, 
 but for mercies through Christ our Lord, and 
 in submission to His will ! 
 
 " I think there is no collect which I love 
 more than this ; " continued Miss Lynde, mus- 
 ingly ; " it always reminds me of a dear friend, 
 to whom it was very precious. 
 
 "She lay, helpless and suffering, upon her 
 death-bed ; and when this Second Sunday in 
 Lent came, she asked, as usual, to have its 
 special portion read to her. 
 
 "Repeating the words of this collect, she 
 exclaimed with a bright and happy smile : 
 1 Oh ! is not that just what I want ? Those 
 words are meant for me, now ! ' "
 
 134 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lynde ! " cried Eunice, do you 
 know about Elioda Merritt ? I mean what the 
 physicians think about her? Isn't it terrible ! '' 
 
 " It does not seem to be, to her, my dear ; 
 she is able to trust herself in the Lord's hands." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! And, Miss Lynde, seeing her act 
 and feel as she does, makes me feel sure, 
 more so than I ever did before, about the 
 things we believe ! " 
 
 " I have no doubt it does, dear ; we can none 
 of us tell how much good has been done by the 
 example of her simple, earnest faith and piety." 
 
 Eunice thought of Dick's interest in her 
 account of Rhoda, and was about to speak of 
 it ; but checked herself. 
 
 She had fancied there was more than a 
 cousinly esteem and interest in this case, and 
 shrank from mentioning what might have been 
 but the impression of the moment, lest she 
 should awaken hopes without foundation. 
 
 The pleasant and profitable morning having 
 passed, Eunice was on the point of returning 
 home, when the door-bell sounded, and Mr. 
 Bobertson entered.
 
 LENTEN LESSONS. 135 
 
 He greeted bis young parishioners warmly, 
 but refused a seat; saying that lie had just 
 stopped for a moment, on business. 
 
 " Miss Scott has sent me word that she is too 
 ill to be out to-morrow, and wishes me to try 
 to supply a teacher for her class. I hardly 
 know where to look for one ; can you suggest 
 a suitable person ? We must not have thai class 
 neglected !" 
 
 Miss Lynde shook her head in a doubtful 
 way ; then her face brightened, and she said : 
 " I can lend you this scholar of mine, if you 
 will persuade her to undertake the charge." 
 
 "I 9 Why, Miss Lynde! How can you 
 think of such a thing 1 I am not fit for a 
 teacher !" 
 
 "You are accustomed to little ones, and 
 know their ways. Miss Scott has the Infant 
 Class, you know ; I really think, Eunice dear, 
 that you would manage it very well." 
 
 "But my eyes!" remonstrated Eunice. I 
 cannot read, their lessons ; or ought not to !" 
 she added, blushing as she thought she detected 
 a twinkle of fun in the glance of her friend.
 
 136 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 "Miss Scott is merely drilling these little 
 ones upon the Lord's Prayer, and the Creed, 
 at present," said Mr. Robertson ; " you could 
 teach those without eyes : then they sing 
 some little hymns, which you can omit, if 
 they are not familiar to you; but you can 
 easily occupy the time, and interest them, by 
 telling them some Bible story, or talking to 
 them. 
 
 " I shall be veiy glad, if you will attend to 
 the class to-morrow, Miss Eunice. I do not 
 want those little ones to become scattered, or 
 disaffected; if you will try to interest them 
 to-morrow, we will hope Miss Scott will be able 
 to resume her charge by another Sunday." 
 
 Eunice at length cemented, though with a 
 good deal of reluctance, to undertake the class, 
 provided Mr. Robertson failed to find some 
 one more experienced. 
 
 It is my belief that the reverend gentleman 
 did not exert himself very much in the matter. 
 He was satisfied, from Miss Lynde's manner, 
 that Eunice could do what he wanted; and 
 that it would be a good thing for her.
 
 LENTEN LESSONS. 137 
 
 
 
 After he had gone, Eunice looked reproach- 
 fully at her friend. 
 
 " How covld you, Miss Lynde ? Just think 
 how embarrassed I shall feel! And then I 
 must be absent from your class, too !" 
 
 "Well, rny dear, I thought you wanted some- 
 thing to do for the Master ; a little piece of 
 Lenten work !" 
 
 Eunice could not reply to this remark, and 
 the smile which accompanied it. 
 
 Eunice did find herself rather embarrassed 
 when she was ushered into the separate room 
 used by the Infant Class, and met the gaze of 
 some twenty pair of roguish eyes. 
 
 But very soon she contrived to fix their at- 
 tention upon the lesson, and became really 
 interested in drawing out their answers. 
 
 At the first pause, one little fellow shouted : 
 
 " Now, teacher, can't we sing ?" 
 
 "I am afraid I do not know your hymns," 
 replied Eunice ; " what would you like to 
 sing?" 
 
 " Let us sing 
 
 ' Jesus, high in glory ? ' "
 
 138 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Eunice happened to know the hymn, which 
 she had often sung with the little ones at 
 home. 
 
 She knew that they were accustomed to the 
 same tune, for she had often heard them 
 singing, while in her own class. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, but the children 
 were eagerly watching for her to begin, so she 
 started the hymn, and went on with confidence 
 as she found herself supported at once by a 
 chorus of infant voices. 
 
 Miss Lynde heard the strain, as she was en- 
 gaged in her own duties ; and smiled to her- 
 self at the success of her scheme. 
 
 Miss Scott was not able to be out the next 
 Sunday, nor for two or three weeks afterward ; 
 and Eunice became very much interested in 
 her new work, and proved quite an efficient 
 substitute.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Part* of a chord, whose harmonies 
 Yield to the Master's hand alone, 
 As, with attentive ear, He tries 
 Note after note, till all are one." 
 
 HE eyes were gaining; jes, they 
 were certainly stronger! Eunice 
 was allowed to use them, in a good 
 light, for half an hour at a time ; and when no 
 ill effects resulted, her friends congratulated her 
 upon the restoration of her old privileges. 
 
 "But you must be very careful, my ?ear 
 child ; a very little imprudence might deprive 
 you again of the use of your eyes, and subject 
 you to all this suffering and annoyance once 
 more." 
 
 Eunice assented to her aunt's observation, 
 
 (139)
 
 140 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 feeling happy enough to promise any amount 
 of caution. 
 
 She was not to resume her drawing lessons 
 yet ; that was hardly safe ; indeed, as there 
 now wanted but three weeks to Easter, it would 
 have been scarcely worth while. 
 
 Not much was said in allusion to her return 
 home, but Eunice felt that she ought to go soon 
 after Easter. 
 
 To her other studies she applied her- 
 self with great diligence ; and her music lessons 
 now well deserved the name, for she was be- 
 coming well grounded in the rudiments of the 
 science, and improving her voice and taste, as 
 well. Miss Lynde was not one to do things by 
 halves. 
 
 " A letter from Mansfield ! "Who speaks first ?" 
 said Mr. Hartwell, holding up the missive, as 
 he entered the family room. 
 
 "Why, I had one yesterday!" exclaimed 
 Eunice, stretching out a hand for it, neverthe- 
 less. 
 
 It was but a brief note, saying that two of 
 the children were taken ill the day before its
 
 ANXIOUS DAYS. 141 
 
 date, and the physician pronounced their attack 
 to be scarlet-fever. 
 
 The rest of the family had been exposed ; and 
 Mrs. Sorners evidently wrote in all the anxiety 
 which the appearance of that dreaded malady is 
 sure to awaken. 
 
 " We will write again to-morrow," the letter 
 concluded ; " by which time we can better judge 
 how the fever will go with them." 
 
 Eunice wus almost in a fever herself with 
 impatient anxiety for the next tidings, and her 
 auut was scarcely less anxious. 
 
 The next letter was not received until the 
 second day after : it was but a line, from Mr. 
 Somers, to say that the children, Ranney and 
 Bess, were very ill indeed. 
 
 " Oh, auntie !" exclaimed Eunice, with tearful 
 excitement, " I must go home at once, to help 
 mother take care of them !" 
 
 " No, my dear chDd ; I knew of course that 
 you would wish to go, if we had no more 
 cheerful tidings to-day, and your uncle and I 
 have talked it all over. 
 
 " Your uncle has seen Dr. Williams, and he
 
 142 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 quite agrees with us that there would be a good 
 deal of danger in exposing you to scarlet-fever 
 in the present state of your eyes. I think, too, 
 your mother would not wish you to come home ; 
 she will be thankful to feel that one child has 
 escaped the infection. So, my dear, I am going 
 to Mansfield, myself, to stay with your mother 
 until the children are well again, which we will 
 hope may be very soon." 
 
 " But, auntie, you may take the fever your- 
 self ! Oh, I do think I ought to go !" 
 
 " I shall not be likely to take it, my love, and 
 we are quite sure that this is the best plan. 
 Your part will be to help Aunt Dora with the 
 housekeeping, and in taking care of Aunt 
 Mildred, while I am gone. And you must keep 
 a cheerful face, to make sunshine for Uncle 
 Hansom when he comes home, so that he will 
 not miss me too much." 
 
 Eunice could not reply at once. She felt, as 
 she would have expressed it, all in a whirl ; 
 but Aunt Edith's next remark brought her to 
 herself : 
 
 " I want to get off this afternoon, if possible ;
 
 ANXIOUS DAYS. 143 
 
 BO come, my dear ! I shall need to keep you 
 busy every moment." 
 
 It was well for Eunice that she had not much 
 time to reflect upon the fact that Aunt Edith 
 was really going to her home ; and that the 
 children were dangerously ill, and she must not 
 go to them. 
 
 "Now, Eunice dear," said Aunt Edith, the 
 while methodically sorting from her drawers 
 the articles which she would need for her 
 journey, " I have not asked much help of you 
 in the way of household duties this winter ; but 
 I don't think you have forgotten your domestic 
 accomplishments ; and I must depend upon you 
 to take charge of some things while I am gone." 
 
 " I'm sure I shall be glad to, auntie ; I feel 
 as if I ought to work all the time, as hard as I 
 can!" 
 
 " There is no need of that, dear, and I think 
 you will have plenty of time for study. But I 
 want you to take care of my china closet ; as I 
 do, every morning, you know. Aunt Dora will 
 have quite too much to do to attend to that, 
 and I should not like the nice china and silver
 
 144 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 taken into the kitchen. And I want you to take 
 charge of the library, too ; and keep it nicely 
 dusted and in order." 
 
 " Is that all, Aunt Edith ? Can't you give 
 me something more to do ?" 
 
 " That is all that I want to depend upon you 
 for, my dear. To do these things well will 
 require considerable time and care. But I dare 
 say Aunt Dora will be glad of your help, every 
 day, in various ways : I think you will be able 
 to help her most by staying with Aunt Mildred 
 occasionally. You could wait upon her very 
 handily; and I know she likes very much to 
 have you with her." 
 
 Again Eunice felt herself reproved, on this 
 point. She might have devoted a little more 
 time and attention to the invalid, who had 
 been so very kind to her. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell started by the afternoon 
 train. After she had left the house, Eunice 
 tried to recall her wandering thoughts, and 
 attend to her lessons, but she succeeded but 
 poorly. 
 
 At her recitation hour, she was obliged to
 
 ANXIOUS DATS. 145 
 
 confess that she had not prepared much of a 
 lesson. 
 
 " This has been a very busy day," said Mr. 
 Hartwell ; " you are very excusable, my dear." 
 
 " I had time enough, after auntie was gone," 
 said Eunice, truthfully ; " but but I couldn't 
 seem to fix my miud on anything !" 
 
 Mr. Hartwell observed the tears which would 
 start, and said, kindly : 
 
 " My dear child, you have a new lesson of 
 patient trust to learn now. You must try to 
 trust the dear absent ones to their Heavenly 
 Father's love, and not be too anxious about 
 them. If I thought it were best for you, I 
 would permit you to lay aside your studies, 
 through this time of trial. But do you not 
 think it would be much better to go calmly on 
 with your accustomed duties, than to sit with 
 folded hands and tearful eyes, waiting for tid- 
 ings?" 
 
 " I suppose it would, uncle ; and I really 
 will try." 
 
 Miss Dora called Eunice at an earlier horn 
 than usual, the next morning. 
 10
 
 146 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 " Come, my dear ! If you are to be assistant 
 housekeeper, you must spring up in good season, 
 or you will not be ready for church." 
 
 " Why, Aunt Dora ! I can't go to church 
 this morning; I have to wash the break- 
 fast things, you know, and I shall not be 
 ready !" 
 
 " Yes, you can, dear, by being prompt, and 
 having everything ready in your room before 
 breakfast. Your Aunt Edith managed it, you 
 know. If there was a little extra to be done, 
 she attended to it after she came home." 
 
 "I'm not so smart as Aunt Eilith !" rejoined 
 Eunice, in not the most pleasant of tones ; but 
 the words and the tone were lost upon the busy 
 monitor, who was on her way down-stairs. 
 
 " I don't see," murmured the girl, as she 
 began to dress, " how I can do my housework, 
 and study, and go to church, too ! I don't 
 think it is my duty to try !" 
 
 But that word 'duty' struck a chord which 
 kept on vibrating, to her great disturbance. 
 
 That sermon of Mr. Robertson's, at the be- 
 ginning of Lent; it had not before crossed
 
 ANXIOUS DAYS. 147 
 
 Eunice, in her purposes and plans ; but now it 
 would recur to her inind. 
 
 His text had been : " Ye shall go and pray 
 unto me, and I will hearken unto you." 
 
 He had dwelt especially upon the duty of 
 'going 1 stepping out of the routine even of 
 necessary work, to join in the prayers and 
 devotions of the Church, at this season. 
 
 Heretofore it had been very pleasant for 
 Eunice to attend the eight o'clock service ; 
 being quite at leisure afterward to walk home 
 with Rhoda, or with Miss Lynde ; in fact, she 
 had chosen this time, directly after church, for 
 her musical practice, twice a week, or some- 
 times oftener. 
 
 But now she would be obliged to come 
 directly home, and finish her morning duties, 
 taking some time later in the day for her other 
 calls abroad. 
 
 Eunice's reflections upon the sermon changed 
 her views as to the matter of duty, before she 
 was ready to go down-stairs. She came to the 
 conclusion that one could hardly be said to 
 "search for the Lord with all the heart," who
 
 148 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 went to tlie services only when it was perfectly 
 convenient. 
 
 " That is right, my love !" said Miss Dora, 
 seeing Eunice emerge from her room as the 
 bell began to ring, all ready for church. 
 
 " You see I cannot put my own doctrines in 
 practice this morning ; I cannot leave my poor 
 sister, to go to church." 
 
 " Is Aunt Mildred feeling more poorly than 
 usual ?" asked Eunice. 
 
 " Yes, I am afraid she is ; she had quite a 
 faint turn just now." 
 
 " Well, Aunt Dora, I will come directly home 
 after church, and perhaps I can help you take 
 care of her." 
 
 "Are you coming home with me to practice 
 this morning?" asked Miss Lynde, after 
 church. 
 
 Eunice explained her additional home duties, 
 'and added: "I should like to come at one 
 o'clock, if you will be at leisure then ; that is, I 
 will try to, if I can be spared." 
 
 " Very well, dear ; I will expect you punctu- 
 ally at one, if you can come. I dare say you
 
 ANXIOUS DATS. 149 
 
 will find yourself quite busy while your aunt is 
 away, and I ain glad to see you are taking up 
 
 the new duties so cheerfully !" 
 
 > 
 
 Mrs. Ellett was hardly fit to be left alone., 
 that morning; and when Eunice had dusted 
 the library, and was ready to study, she pro- 
 posed to take her books up and sit with her, to 
 be ready if anything was needed. 
 
 " Well, if you will, my dear, I shall be very 
 glad ; for I ought to go down-stairs awhile to 
 attend to things." 
 
 Not much chance had Eunice to study, how- 
 ever ; the good lady, in the first place, was very 
 glad to see her, for a little talk about the news 
 from her home, and so on. 
 
 Then, when Eunice had settled herself by 
 the window, with her books, the interruptions 
 were very frequent. 
 
 Mrs. Ellett, being really in a nervous and 
 suffering condition, seemed quite to forget that 
 she was trying to prepare her lessons, and 
 required one little service, and then another, to 
 the great hindrance of the student. 
 
 At last she laid aside her books, and re-
 
 150 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 mained beside the invalid, bathing her head ; 
 and trying to amuse and cheer her, until Miss 
 Dora came np. 
 
 " Now, Euuie, I will stay here ; you can go 
 and finish your lessons." 
 
 " Ah ! I'm afraid I have hindered you, 
 dearie ; " said Aunt Mildred ; " but you have 
 been a real comfort to me; thank you, my 
 child 1 " 
 
 Only half an hour to study ; then she must 
 run down to Miss Lynde's for a short practice ; 
 then back again to her lessons. 
 
 The reading with Aunt Dora had been given 
 up, when Eunice was permitted to use her eyes 
 once more. 
 
 " You will do better now to read at your own 
 time, and in your own ' closet,' my love," Miss 
 Dora had said. 
 
 If Eunice was tempted to overlook or slight 
 her private devotions, while she remained at 
 her uncle's, an occasional glimpse of Aunt Dora 
 stealiog away from her pressing occupations for 
 her few moments of refreshment, reminded her 
 of the neglected duty.
 
 ANXIOUS DAYS. 151 
 
 The day above described was a fair specimen 
 of the next two weeks, except that, some days, 
 Mrs. Ellett was even more poorly, requiring 
 constant nursing; and that more than once 
 Eunice was obliged to give up her singing 
 lesson. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell, or Mrs. Somers herself, wrote 
 frequently. 
 
 Bess was decidedly better ; Ranney was over 
 the fever, but the letters alluded in rather 
 doubtful terms to him ; George had taken his 
 turn, and was very sick for a few days ; and, at 
 the last account, the two little ones were taken 
 down. 
 
 The Collect for the Fifth Sunday in Lent was 
 a comfort to Eunice through these busy, anx- 
 ious days : it was, as she said to Miss Lynde, 
 so much like the one for the Second Sunday. 
 
 That had expressed so well her own personal 
 wants ; but now she used the seasonable words 
 to plead for the dear ones who were laid low, 
 and it was such a comfort to feel that, in soul 
 and body, they were in the hands of the Lord.
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 'When our heads are bowed with wo, 
 When our bi*ter tears o'erflow ; 
 When we mourn the lost and dear, 
 Jesu, Son of Mary, hear I 
 
 ' Thou hast bowed the dying head, 
 Thou the blood of life hast shed, 
 Thou hast filled a mortal bier ; 
 Jesu, Son of Mary, hear 1" 
 
 [HE Holy "Week of our Saviour's 
 Passion and death had begun. 
 
 Miss Scott, the teacher of the 
 Infant Class, was present on the Sunday morn- 
 ing, and Eunice was relieved from her charge, 
 and able to resume her place with her old class- 
 mates, and to listen to their teacher's earnest 
 comment upon " the example of His patience." 
 Once, while Miss Lynde was speaking, 
 
 Eunice glanced at Ehoda. She was listening, 
 (152)
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 153 
 
 with the calm, restful look which grew more 
 and more habitual to her. 
 
 " She is following the example of His pa- 
 tience," thought her friend ; " oh, I wish / 
 might, as truly ! " 
 
 Be of good cheer, young Christian ; you are 
 learning, as Rhoda said, in the same school : 
 the lessons of the past few weeks shall not 
 prove to have been given in vain ! 
 
 Services were appointed for the evenings of 
 this week, as well as the mornings ; and Eunice 
 requested that she might give up her lessons, 
 for the week. 
 
 "If you would like to go to the evening 
 services, Eunice, I shall be at home each even- 
 ing to go with you ; " said Dick. 
 
 " Thank you, cousin ; I want to go when I 
 can, but I think I ought to take turns with 
 Aunt Dora, this week, in staying with Aunt 
 Mildred." 
 
 " Well, then, I must go all the more regularly, 
 as your proxy ; and I may be useful in escort- 
 ing Miss Dora, in her turn ! " 
 
 Mr. Hartwell expected to attend the evening
 
 154 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 services himself ; but he was very glad to hear 
 Dick's offer, and to perceive that, under cover 
 of taking care of Eunice, there existed a good 
 resolve of his own. 
 
 "Wednesday brought sad tidings. A telegram 
 was received, announcing that Baby Walter 
 was dead. 
 
 Eunice was at first almost stunned by this 
 news. Her anxieties had reached to the 
 probable suffering of the children at home, and 
 the care and exhaustion of the parents, but 
 she had scarcely entertained the thought of 
 death. 
 
 And could it be that he was gone the 
 bright, merry baby boy, whom she had dearly 
 loved! That she should never again have 
 opportunity to tend and please him, and make 
 amends for the grudging manner in which, 
 as she bitterly remembered now, those little 
 ministries had been too often performed ! 
 
 Eunice felt as if she must go home, to take 
 one parting look at her dear little brother, and 
 follow him to the grave. But her uncle, who 
 had brought home the telegram, and waited to
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 155 
 
 soothe the sobbing mourner, kindly, but firmly 
 shook his head, ;it the first mention of this. 
 
 " No, my daughter, it would not be right to 
 run the risk ; do not think of it ! 
 
 " Follow him in your thoughts, detir child, 
 follow the happy infant spirit to the Paradise 
 whither angels have borne it, and where there 
 shall be no more pain." 
 
 As Eunice still sobbed, almost convulsively, 
 he bent over and kissed her forehead. 
 
 " Eunice dear, the teachings of this week will 
 help you to bear this sad trial, I know. 
 
 " Think of Him who ' became obedient unto 
 death;' think of the words we have just heard 
 read this morning : ' Not my will, but Thine be 
 done !' Hemember the example of His pa- 
 tience." 
 
 Aye, indeed ! Mr. Hartwell could not have 
 chosen his words more wisely to hush the 
 tumult of grief and regret. 
 
 As lie stood beside Eunice, waiting, a fer^ 
 moments, she struggled for composure, and 
 raising her head presently, said in a quiet tone, 
 " Thank you, dear uncle."
 
 156 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 He knew that lie might safely leave her, then. 
 In a little time, Eunice went up to Mrs. Ellett's 
 room, and offered to release Miss Dora, who 
 had been occupied very closely through the 
 morning, in the sick-room. 
 
 " My dear !" remonstrated Miss Dora, in a 
 low tone, " it will be too much for you to-day, 
 I am afraid ; do not try, if you would rather be 
 alone." 
 
 " I think it will be better for me to be trying 
 to help some one else," replied Eunice, with a 
 faint smile. 
 
 Miss Dora looked in her face a moment, and 
 then said : 
 
 " I see ! The Lord is teaching you how to 
 bear this trouble," and left her with her charge. 
 
 Eunice had no reason to regret this effort on 
 her part. 
 
 Aunt Mildred had lost all her own children 
 in early infancy, and she knew how to comfort 
 the bereaved sister. She seemed, in turn, to 
 forget her own suffering in sympathy with 
 Eunice; and she spoke so sweetly of the 
 ransomed little ones in Paradise, of their
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 157 
 
 safety, and secured bliss, that Eunice felt she 
 would not wish him back to this troubled 
 world again. 
 
 Miss Lynde heard of the little one's death, 
 and came in the afternoon to offer her friendly 
 sympathy. 
 
 The next day there were letters; one for 
 Eunice from her mother. She knew it must 
 have been written very soon after the baby's 
 death, and felt gratefully how like her unselfish 
 mother it was to remember the grief of her 
 absent one, in the midst of her own fresh 
 sorrow. 
 
 The other letter was from Mrs. Hartwell to 
 her husband. He read it, glanced at Eunice, 
 aud then, on second thought, placed it in his 
 pocket-book for another time. 
 
 It Wiis not until the afternoon of Good 
 Friday, that, after consultation with liis sisters, 
 he called Eunice into the library. 
 
 " My dear, I do not know that Aunt Edith 
 quite intended this letter for your perusal ; but 
 as its subject very nearly concerns you, we 
 think it better that you should read just what
 
 158 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 she says, yourself." And he gave the letter 
 into her hand. 
 
 "You will have received, ere this," so the 
 letter began, " the tidings of the death of 
 sister's youngest darling. 
 
 " You and I, love, know very well what the 
 trial is. Madeline and her husband bear 
 it with Christian calmness, as we would expect 
 of their long-tried faith. 
 
 " George and Bessie are doing very well, 
 only needing care to avoid the danger of taking 
 cold. Little Susy has had the disease much 
 more lightly than the other children. But 
 I feel anxious about Banuey, your namesake, 
 you know. 
 
 " He is entirely free from the fever, but it 
 appears he has never been really well since the 
 fall which sister mentioned, some weeks since. 
 
 " Yery likely the attack of fever has aggra- 
 vated his previous ailments ; but, whatever the 
 cause, the child is far from well. He com- 
 plaius of feeling ' so tired,' most of the time ; 
 and seems to have a good deal of pain at 
 intervals.
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 159 
 
 "I should like very much to bring h'ra home 
 with me, for the change of air, and to obtain 
 the advice of our physicians in Holuieford in 
 his case. 
 
 "I think his parents would entrust him 
 to me, for, if he has sustained some internal 
 injury, which is my fear, he should be treated 
 accordingly, without delay. 
 
 "But I know that I shall be very fully 
 occupied when I return home. Poor sister 
 Mildred, from your account, must need Dora's 
 constant care ; and there is all the spring work, 
 and the guests whom you expect soon. 
 
 " I see but one way to manage it. If Eunice 
 were to stay with us, and devote herself to tha 
 care of her brother, I could very well give him 
 the general oversight required. 
 
 " But, between us, Eunice was never remark- 
 ably patient witli this little fellow; and now 
 his merry mischief of former days has given 
 place to a peevishness and irritability, which 
 would be much more trying to her patience. 
 
 "What do you think best? I shall only 
 await your decision and reply to return home,
 
 160 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 as there is no farther especial reason for my 
 remaining here." 
 
 Eunice read the letter through with evident 
 emotion ; and tearfully exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Ransom ! You Jcnoio I will do 
 everything I can for Ranney ! May he come ? 
 Will you write at once ?" 
 
 " I will telegraph, my clear, if you are sure 
 you realize what you are undertaking. 
 
 " It is not only that your auntie will have a 
 great deal to do, after her return ; I know very 
 well that she will find herself very much 
 fatigued and worn, after the care of the past 
 three weeks, and I should hardly consent 
 to have her continue the care of a sick child, 
 in addition to her home duties. 
 
 " That must devolve almost entirely upon 
 you, if he comes : do you think you can stand 
 the care and confinement, and the giving up of 
 your own pursuits, in great measure ?" 
 
 " I don't wonder you doubt me, uncle," 
 replied Eunice, humbly; "but I do very much 
 wish to try ! 
 
 "It seems," she added, after a little pause,
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 161 
 
 " as if God gave me this opportunity to show 
 how sorry I am." 
 
 The message was sent at once ; and Eunice, 
 hopeful for her little brother, thankful that she 
 was to be called to minister to him ; and com- 
 forted concerning the dear ones at home, and 
 the darling whom God had taken, prepared for 
 a blessed and happy Easter. 
 
 But this week, so fraught already r with 
 lessons for a life-time, was to be marked by 
 one more event. 
 
 It was towards evening, on Saturday, that 
 Frances Lynde called at the house, to seek for 
 Eunice. 
 
 "When ushered into the parlor she found 
 Dick North there, he having returned earlier 
 than usual, and a little before the hour for 
 dinner. 
 
 " O Dick ! she exclaimed, on seeing him, " I 
 have come with more distressing tidings for 
 that poor child. How shall I tell her ?" 
 
 " You do not mean is it possible that that 
 little friend of hers is gone ?" 
 
 " Ehoda Merritt ; yes ! I did not know that 
 11
 
 162 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 you knew anything about lier ; she died sud- 
 denly, this morning." 
 
 Here Eunice entered, and Dick hastily re- 
 treated, more moved than he wished to show, 
 himself, and unwilling to witness his young 
 cousin's sorrow. 
 
 Miss Lynde drew Eunice to a seat beside 
 her, and threw her arms around her. 
 
 " My darling girl, can you bear to hear of 
 another bereavement ?" 
 
 Eunice gazed wonderiugly in the face of her 
 friend, and perceiving that she had been weep- 
 ing, the truth flashed upon her mind. 
 
 " Is it Ehoda ?" she asked, in a quiet 
 tone, yet trembling, almost shuddering, as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " It is, dear ; the call which she has so long 
 expected, has come, aud we believe that it 
 found her watching." 
 
 " ' Blessed are those servants,' " Eunice be- 
 gan ; but her voice broke, and she could not 
 finish the quotation. 
 
 "Yes, indeed! We cannot know now how 
 blessed," rejoined Miss Lynde.
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 1G3 
 
 Then, knowing that Eunice wished to hear 
 all, she went on : 
 
 " It was this morning, clear : you know that 
 she was at church yesterday, in the morning ; 
 shall we ever forget that sweet, placid expres- 
 sion of her face as we saw her then ? 
 
 " She awoke this morning feeliug distressed, 
 it seems. The pain passed off, but she evidently 
 regarded it as premonitory, and spoke of it 
 thus to her friends. 
 
 " She lay on the lounge, as her mother 
 desired, although she felt better after break- 
 fast. 
 
 "Her mother did not leave her, and her 
 father felt too anxious to remain long from the 
 house. They were both with her when the 
 sudden attack came on which speedily wrought 
 the change. 
 
 " I have just come from the house. O Eunice, 
 there is no 'bitter ness in that death !" 
 
 Eunice was weeping, but quietly. 
 
 " It is Easter Even," she said. 
 
 " Yes ; the day of all others that she, dear 
 child of the Church as she was, would have
 
 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 chosen, for her friends to stand around her 
 mortal remains. I thought of the lines : 
 
 " ' Go to the grave ; for there thy Saviour lay 
 
 In death's embraces, ere He rose on high : 
 And all the ransomed, by that narrow way 
 Pass to eternal life, beyond the sky. 
 
 " ' Go to the grave : no, take thy flight above ; 
 
 Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord : 
 Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, 
 And open vision, for the written word !' " 
 
 It was a blessed, happy Easter, not to Eunice 
 alone, but to all who knew and loved the dear 
 young Christian who had been taken from their 
 midst. 
 
 Every word of the glorious Easter service 
 spoke hope and comfort to their hearts, and 
 forbade them to mourn. 
 
 The service of the afternoon was especially 
 for the Sunday-school ; one for which they had 
 been preparing for some time. Mr. Robertson 
 took the fitting occasion to speak to the hearts 
 of the children, of the hope, the glorious hope 
 which had sustained and cheered their young 
 companion ; so long face to face, as it were, 
 with death.
 
 A MEMORABLE WEEK. 165 
 
 The funeral was appointed for Easter Tues- 
 day ; and it was largely attended by the mem- 
 bers of the Sunday-school and congregation. 
 
 Eunice went to the house, more than once, 
 in the interval, to stand beside her dear youug 
 friend, and gaze upon the sweet face, wearing 
 such a happy smile. 
 
 " You must come often to see us," said the 
 bereaved mother, " when our darling is borne 
 away from us ; she loved you very dearly !"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 gatmeg. 
 
 But when the self-abhorring thrill 
 Is passed, as pass it must ; 
 When tasks of life thy spirit fill, 
 Risen from thy tears and dust ; 
 Then be the self-renouncing will 
 The seal of thy calm trust 1" 
 
 [HE next day, Wednesday, a week 
 from the day of baby Walter's death, 
 Aunt Edith arrived, with her ch^ge. 
 Eunice was shocked at the change in her 
 little brother, who looked pale and thin and 
 listless, very different from the merry, roguish 
 child from whom she had parted in the autumn. 
 He was tired with his journey, Aunt Edith 
 explained ; it had seemed to fatigue him more 
 
 than she anticipated, although she had arranged 
 (166)
 
 EUNICK AND HANNEY. PAGE 167.
 
 RANNEY. 167 
 
 her shawls as a pillow, that he might lie down 
 a good part of the time. 
 
 It was late ill the afternoon when they 
 arrived. 
 
 "Now, my little boy," said Aunt Edith, 
 " would you like to go right to bed, and rest ; 
 and have some dinner brought up to you, by- 
 and-by?" 
 
 " No, ma'am ; I'd rather stay and see Eunie." 
 
 " Very well, then," his aunt answered, smil- 
 ing ; " I'll go and dispose of my goods and 
 chattels, and leave you in her charge." 
 
 "We'll sit on the sofa, Ranney, and you 
 shall lay your head on me, and rest in that 
 way ; so. Dear little fellow ! You must make 
 haste and get well ; sister don't like to see you 
 looking so poorly." 
 
 "Then you don't 'hate' me, Eunie?" said 
 the child, scanning her face. 
 
 " Hate you ? No ! I love you dearly !" said 
 Eunice, stooping to kiss him. 
 
 How the question hurt her. Was it possi- 
 ble that he had treasured up those hasty words 
 in his memory until this time.
 
 168 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 The next day a physician of some eminence 
 was called in, to give his advice in the case. 
 
 He of course could not form a decided opinion 
 until he had observed the child for some little 
 time ; but, from what Mrs. Hartwell was able 
 to tell him of his symptoms, he agreed with her, 
 and, indeed, with the old family physician in 
 Mansfield, in judging that there had been some 
 spinal injury resulting from his fall, though he 
 hoped it was slight, and would yield to treatment. 
 
 He could not determine, at first sight, how 
 much of his present feebleness Avas due to the 
 recent illness. 
 
 In reply to Mr. Hart well's inquiries as to 
 the physician's opinion, that evening, his wife 
 answered : 
 
 " As far as I could gather from what he said, 
 he seemed to agree pretty much with old 
 Phillis." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " A nice old colored woman whom sister has 
 had to help her, whenever she needed help ; 
 or, more correctly, when she felt that she could 
 afford to hire it.
 
 RANNEY. 169 
 
 " She is very fond of the children, and has 
 kept an anxious eye upon B/anney of late. 
 
 " She seemed very much pleased to hear that 
 I was to bring him to Holmeford, to see what 
 could be done for him. 
 
 "'I'm right glad, missis!' said she; 'it's 
 high time that child was seed to ! He hasn't 
 been like himself since that time he fell off tho 
 ladder. It's my belief that he liurted the spine 
 of his back, more or less !' " 
 
 " Well, we must have Dr. Browne give his 
 close attention to the case ; and, if he desires, 
 consult with other physicians. "We will spare 
 no expense or effort to save the little fellow 
 from a life of suffering. He seems a very 
 pleasant child !" 
 
 " He is ; though, as Phillis said, he is not 
 like himself now : I never saw a more bright, 
 intelligent child, for his years." 
 
 Banney was of course amused and interested 
 with the novelty of all about him, having never 
 been in a large town before, and, after resting 
 from the journey, he appeared brighter and 
 better from this cause.
 
 170 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 To Eunice lie seemed very dear and loveable. 
 Divested of the mischievousness of his healthy 
 days, and as yet showing no signs of the fret- 
 fulness which his aunt had remarked upon, she 
 wondered that the latter should have fancied it 
 would be such a trial to her temper and 
 patience to take care of him. 
 
 She had made most determined resolves that 
 her whole time, if necessary, should be giveu 
 up to him ; and that no unreasonableness or 
 peevishness on his part should betray her into 
 anger or impatience. 
 
 Eunice had not as yet resumed her studies, 
 which she laid aside at the commencement of 
 Passion-week ; her mind this week had been 
 fully occupied ; at first with the funeral of her 
 friend Rhoda, then with the arrival of her aunt 
 and Eanney, and subsequently in arranging 
 for the comfort of the little invalid, and 
 preparing to carry out his physician's direc- 
 tions. 
 
 But at dinner on Saturday Mr. Hart well 
 observed : 
 
 M We have had a long vacation, daughter ;
 
 RANNEY. 171 
 
 but I suppose our routine will begin again on 
 Monday ; say you not so ?" 
 
 Eunice glanced with some surprise from her 
 uncle to Kanney, who was beside her at table. 
 
 " I hardly supposed I should be able to 
 study much now," she replied. 
 
 " O yes ! I think so ;" interposed Aunt 
 Edith ; " at least we will hope you can, as a 
 general thing." 
 
 She checked the remark Eunice was about to 
 make, by a significant look ; but after Ranney 
 was asleep that evening, the subject was 
 resumed. 
 
 " Eunice, my love, I see you are inclined to 
 be very faithful and devoted to your boy, but 
 you must not over-do the matter. 
 
 " We must try, as the doctor says, to keep 
 him amused and happy, but still it would 
 hardly be well to let him feel that you must do 
 nothing but wait upon him. We must not 
 make a tyrant of our little boy ! 
 
 " Unless Banney should grow worse, instead 
 of better, as we hope, I think you will be able 
 to go on with your usual studies; keeping
 
 172 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 him with you, perhaps, when we are too busy 
 to Avatch him. 
 
 "I would be glad to take charge of him during 
 your study hours, for I am aware you may find 
 it difficult, sometimes, to prepare your lessons. 
 But you know, dear, that I shall be very 
 busy now, and must leave him mostly upon 
 your hands. 
 
 "You will have plenty of opportunities for the 
 exercise of patience, in trying to carry on your 
 studies, subject to constant interruption ; but it 
 may be a good discipline for you, my love. 
 
 " Try to feel content with doing ivliat you oc,^, 
 always taking first * the duty which lies nearest 
 you ;' and you will have learned a most valua- 
 ble lesson to help you in your life-work !" 
 
 Aunt Edith's words were accompanied with a 
 smile of kindly meaning, which Eunice well 
 understood. 
 
 How strange it seemed to her, that the very 
 path she had so longed to escape, while at 
 home the path 
 
 "Where duties fence life's narrow ground." 
 now opened plainly before her again amid the
 
 RANNEY. 173 
 
 very scenes where she had fondly hoped to 
 press on joyfully in the ways of her own choice ! 
 
 Still musing thus, she retired to her own 
 room for the night; and bending over her litllo 
 brother, her charge by night as well as by day, 
 she kissed him, as he quietly slept then smiled 
 through her tears as she murmured : 
 
 " Dear Rhoda ! Yes, it is ' a school,' indeed ! 
 and oh ! how glad I am that it is ' the same !' " 
 
 The young disciple had begun to understand 
 that it was no hard taskmaster, but her faithful 
 Teacher, and Heavenly Guide, who set before 
 her this lesson to be humbly learned. 
 
 In the psalm which Eunice read, before 
 undressing, were these words, which well ex- 
 pressed her heart's desire at that hour : 
 
 " Show me Thy ways, O Lord : 
 Teach me Thy paths : 
 Lead me in Thy truth and teach me, 
 For Thou art the God of my salvation : 
 On Thee do I wait all the day." 
 
 The next morning was Sunday, and Eunice 
 awoke wondering whether she should be able to 
 go to church that day. She had not left 
 Banuey yet, but a few moments at a time ; and
 
 174 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 besides, she did not wish to have any one else 
 detained to take care of him ; and the church 
 was at rather too great a distance for him to 
 walk. 
 
 The doctor wished him to walk but very 
 little, but to take gentle exercise in any other 
 way that could be devised. 
 
 Aunt Mildred, aware of this, had declared 
 herself quite equal to a drive, the day previous, 
 and ordered a hack ; taking Eunice and Ranney 
 with her. 
 
 Ranney was sleeping so soundly when his 
 sister was ready to go down-stairs, that she 
 would not disturb him, but softly quitted the 
 room. 
 
 In passing through the hall, she fancied she 
 heard Mrs. Ellett call, and went in to see if 
 she wanted anj^thing. 
 
 " I did not call, dearie, but I am as glad to 
 see my. sunbeam as if I had !" 
 
 Eunice gave the dear old lady an affectionate 
 kiss, and inquired after her health. 
 
 " I feel better than I have in some time, my 
 love; really, the drive yesterday must have
 
 1IANNKY. 175 
 
 clone me good : I hardly supposed, when I 
 ordered the hack, that I should go, but I thought 
 our little Ixry could enjoy it, whether I did or not." 
 
 " You are very kind, Aunt Mildred ; as you 
 always are!" 
 
 " Ah ! I am afraid I have seemed a poor 
 selfish old woman, of late, my dear ! But you 
 have been very patient, as have all my friends ; 
 and I am so thankful to feel a little better now ; 
 for I think I may help you some with your dear 
 little boy. And, by the way, do you think he 
 will like to stay with me, while you go to Church 
 to-day?" 
 
 " Oh, I ana afraid it will tire you to have him 
 here, Aunt Mildred !" 
 
 " No, my dear, I think not ; and we grew 
 pretty good friends yesterday. I fancy he will 
 be happy with me. Jenny will be about the 
 house, and I can ring if I need anything : I 
 think we two invalids can take care of each 
 other this morning ; and your Aunt Dora will 
 be at home this afternoon, probably." 
 
 " Well, aunty, I will see what Ranney thinks 
 about it ; I shall be very glad to go !"
 
 176 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 Ranney was disposed to act a little babyish, 
 and cling to Eunice ; but a timely word from 
 his Aunt Edith made him a little ashamed, and 
 he made no further objection. 
 
 When Eunice returned after the morning 
 service, she found the little fellow very contented 
 and happy. " He had a nice time," he said ; 
 and he seemed quite willing to spare his sister 
 again. 
 
 Thus a precedent was happily established 
 for the Sundays. 
 
 But this was a favorable specimen of Ran- 
 ney's days. They were not all so bright. At 
 times he seemed to suffer a good deal, and was 
 very irritable and exacting. 
 
 Then the physician's directions were such as 
 to require a good deal of time and careful 
 attention. Mrs. Hartwell intended to admin- 
 ister the strengthening baths, and the frequent 
 rubbing herself ; but the child preferred to bo 
 tended by his sister, and Eunice begged to do 
 it, promising to be very careful in following 
 instructions, and guarding against exposure to 
 cold.
 
 EANNEY. 177 
 
 Once she came near losing Kanney's con- 
 fidence entirely. She had prepared a warm 
 salt bath, and being a little absent-minded, 
 made it rather more than warm. 
 
 Helping the little boy to spring into the tub, 
 she was startled by his scream of pain, and 
 quickly caught him out again. 
 
 Eanney surveyed his little par-boiled toes 
 with an injured and indignant look ; but Eunice 
 was so full of self-reproach for her carelessness, 
 and begged his forgiveness so heartily, that his 
 mood quickly changed. 
 
 " Never mind, Eunie 1" said he ; " it didn't 
 hurt much ! You wont make it too hot again, 
 will you?" 
 
 She never did. 
 
 A letter from Eunice to her mother, written 
 after Ranney had been nearly two weeks in 
 Holmeford, may best describe the condition of 
 things at this time. 
 
 " HOLMKPOBD, April 28. 
 
 " I know you wish to hear often, mother dear, 
 from your two 'absent darlings,' so I write 
 
 again, although it is but a day or two since 
 12
 
 178 EUNICE SOMEBS. 
 
 Aunt Edith sent you a full account of the treat- 
 ment which Dr. Browne had prescribed for 
 Ranney. 
 
 "Dear little fellow! It is sad to think what 
 a time it may be, and I suppose, must be, be- 
 fore he can be well and strong again ; and yet 
 it is a comfort to know that there is so much that 
 may be done to help him, and prevent his 
 growing very much worse. 
 
 " He is very patient, I think : when he is 
 fretful it is very plain that he is suffering and 
 cannot help it. "We get along very nicely 
 together. 
 
 " You ask if my studies are at an end, for the 
 present. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I manage to prepare my lessons 
 for uncle, every day ; and auntie and I do not 
 often miss our readings. 
 
 "Ranney sits with me while I study, and 
 amuses himself quietly, unless he is feeling very 
 poorly. There are a number of books with 
 handsome engravings, in the library, which 
 please him ; and I have found out that he be- 
 gins to read quite nicely, though we do not like
 
 BANNEY. 179 
 
 to Lave him read much at a time : I read aloud 
 to him, a good deal. 
 
 " My singing lessons are at a stand-still, for I 
 cannot leave Ranney to go to Miss Lynde ; and, 
 of course, I have not resumed my drawing ; 
 I doubt if I ever shall. 
 
 " I have not been to see dear Rhoda's mother 
 since the funeral, but I hope to be able to get 
 there soon : you know Dr. Browne does not 
 wish Ranney to walk much ; if it were not for 
 that, I could take him with me. 
 
 " But do not think that I mean to complain 
 of these things, darling mother ! I am glad to 
 give up something for Ranney's sake ; and I am 
 very happy in taking care of him. 
 
 " We mean to take Ranney out, in some way, 
 every pleasant day. Uncle says he will see to 
 it, for he must have the air; but I know it 
 costs a good deal to hire a horse ; and Aunt 
 Mildred has been so kind. 
 
 " She has proposed a drive, several mornings, 
 though she was only able to go herself twice : 
 the other times she laughed and said, ' Raimey 
 must get the benefit of the drive for both, for
 
 180 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 her courage failed!' I knew very well that she 
 ordered the hack on purpose for him. 
 
 " Two mornings Uucle Ransom came him- 
 self, with a buggy, and said there was plenty of 
 room for me, with Kanuey. Those were de- 
 lightful drives : uncle is so kind and pleasant. 
 
 " Then, yesterday, we had the funniest ride 
 of all. Cousin Dick proposed that we should 
 go, right after breakfast, so that he could help 
 us, and take a ride in the street cars, out to the 
 end of the route : there are two lines of street 
 cars in Holmeford now, and one passes the 
 store where Cousin Dick is. 
 
 " He carried Rauney, in his arms, to the car, 
 and told us to stop at the store, when we came 
 back, and he would carry him home. 
 
 "Wasn't that kind? Eanney enjoyed the trip 
 very much, and Cousin Dick says we must try 
 it again. 
 
 "But I am making out a very long letter, 
 and my boy is growing impatient ; so I must 
 only send a loving kiss for papa and yourself, 
 George and the little ones. I do want to see 
 you all once more ! EUNICE."
 
 RANNEY. 181 
 
 "We must give but a brief extract from the 
 reply to this letter : 
 
 " I cannot tell you, dear daughter, what a 
 relief and comfort this arrangement has been to 
 me, although I sadly miss my boy, and it is rather 
 hard for us to have our Eunice's absence indefi- 
 nitely prolonged. 
 
 " I could see that our good old Dr. "Wayne 
 did not understand Ranney's case, or at least, 
 was not skilful in its treatment. I longed for 
 the advice which might save him from years of 
 suffering, and perhaps deformity, but could not 
 see how we were to obtain it. 
 
 " We owe a great deal of gratitude to your 
 kind aunt and uncle, for devising the present 
 plan ; and we are grateful, too, to our dear 
 child, for her cheerful acceptance of her part of 
 the burden, without which it could scarcely 
 have been undertaken. 
 
 " God bless and keep both our dear absent 
 ones, and restore them to us in His own good 
 time ! "
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 |dbtnts bjr % JSttajr. 
 
 'Who from these children's steps, the thorns 
 Of grief, and doubt, and care, 
 Can kindly take ; or, for their peace, 
 As kindly plant them there : 
 
 'Through regions sad with weeping storms, 
 Dark wood, and frowning hill, 
 Or valley, bright as angel's dreams, 
 Can guide them, at His will." 
 
 [UNICE, I have a sentence to pro- 
 nounce upon you ! " said Mrs, 
 
 [Hartwell, at lunch, a clay or two 
 
 after. 
 
 " You are to run up-stairs at once, and dress : 
 then disappear out of the front door, and not 
 let me see you again until dinner-time ! " 
 
 Eanney had been out, riding, and when he 
 returned, had fallen asleep on the lounge in 
 
 Mrs. Ellett's room, and was having a good nap. 
 
 (182)
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 183 
 
 " He will feel quite bright, when he awakes," 
 said Aunt Edith, " aiid I can take care of him 
 this afternoon. You have been too much con- 
 fined since I came home, and I must see that 
 you have a little more freedom, after this." 
 
 " I am sure, dear auntie, you need not worry 
 about me ; I have had a ride, almost every day, 
 and have been to church both Sundays ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! but you want a good inn, and a 
 little time to yourself ; be off, now, and make 
 the most of your liberty ! " 
 
 Eunice was delighted to obey this command, 
 and was soon in the street, on her way to Miss 
 Lynde's. 
 
 On second thoughts she resolved to make 
 sure of a cull at Mrs. Merritt's, first ; lest some- 
 thing should interfere with her purpose of 
 going there. 
 
 Rhoda's mother affectionately welcomed her 
 daughter's friend, and the two had a long and 
 comforting talk, about the dear departed one. 
 
 Mrs. Merritt had long schooled herself to 
 contemplate the thought of parting with her 
 dear child, having had reason to believe that
 
 184: EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 the separation might conie at any time ; and 
 her grief was subdued, and her manner re- 
 signed, and even cheerful. The same trusting 
 faith which had upheld the daughter, now 
 sustained her parents under their bereave- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. Merritt was much interested in hearing 
 of Ranney, and was still inquiring about him, 
 when her little boy, Jack, as he was usually 
 called, entered, in search of his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Merritt had just mentioned that Jack 
 seemed to feel his sister's death even mure 
 keenly than the two older boys, who were nearer 
 her age : they attended school, and had not 
 been quite as much with her, of late, which 
 perhaps accounted for the seeming difference ; 
 but poor little Jack had depended very much 
 upon ' sister Rhoda,' and he was, besides, of a 
 very susceptible temperament, and grieved sadly 
 over his loss. 
 
 Eunice greeted the child, as he came up ; at 
 first he did not seem inclined to respond, but 
 some recollection crossed his mind, evidently, 
 of the intimacy between Eunice and his sister,
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 185 
 
 for he turned suddenly, and gave her his hand, 
 and even returned her kiss. 
 
 Eunice drew him to a seat beside her, and 
 said : 
 
 " I have not seen you in a good many days, 
 Jack ; shall I tell you why ? I have had a little 
 sick brother to take care of, and I did not like 
 to leave him long, for fear he would miss me, 
 and feel homesick. "Will not you and Arthur 
 come round and see him? He would like tc 
 see you, and play with you, very much !" 
 
 " Why don't you bring him here?" asked Jack. 
 
 " Because the doctor will not let him walk so 
 far." 
 
 "Can't he ride?" 
 
 "By the way, Eunice," interposed Mrs. 
 Merritt, " is he too large to ride in a child's 
 perambulator? We have a very strong one, 
 put away in the attic, and it does seem to me 
 that you might manage to make him very com- 
 fortable in it. Suppose we have it down, and 
 see ! Is he larger than Jack ?" 
 
 "O no, he is a little younger, and con- 
 siderably smaller, I should judge."
 
 186 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 "Well, Jack, go and 'ask Ann to bring it 
 down." 
 
 Jack soon re-appeared, wheeling the vehicle 
 into the room. Then he gathered himself into 
 it to convince Eunice that Ranney could ride 
 in it, very well. 
 
 " We can make a higher seat than that, very 
 easily, so that he can dispose of his limbs with 
 more comfort and elegance," said Mrs. Merritt, 
 smiling. You will not mind wheeling him about 
 in it, will you, dear ? Any one would conclude 
 that the child was unable to walk." 
 
 " O no !" exclaimed Eunice, earnestly ; " I 
 should not mind anything which would 
 give him so much pleasure as I think this 
 will." 
 
 " Dear child !" said Mrs. Merritt, " that is so 
 like Ehoda! I do not wonder that you two 
 were friends !" 
 
 " I know where you live !" said Jack : " shall 
 I take the carnage round for you ? and then I 
 can see your brother." 
 
 " Eunice is not going directly home, my dear ; 
 perhaps you had better wait until morning;
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAT. 187 
 
 then you can go, if she would like it, and stay 
 awhile with Ranney." 
 
 So it was settled ; and Eunice, after heartily 
 thanking Jack, and his mother, too, for the 
 proffered kindness, took her leave, and went tc 
 see Miss Lynda. 
 
 Happily the young lady was at home, having 
 just come in from a walk. 
 
 " I am 50 gl.-id you did not come a little 
 sooner, and find me out, my dear !" 
 
 " So am I," returned Eunice, " for more 
 reasons than one. I think I have found a way, 
 now, to go on with my much-missed lessons ; 
 if you are not tired of teaching me, and if 
 you will not object to having Ranney come 
 with me." 
 
 And Eunice explained about the perambu- 
 lator. 
 
 " I am very glad !" exclaimed Miss Frances. 
 " I have missed my pupil and friend very much ! 
 I shall be delighted to have you bring Rauney, 
 and I think I can find enough to amuse him. 
 when he is here, so that he will not mind oui 
 music."
 
 188 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 " I think there will be no difficulty in finding 
 amusement for him," said Eunice, smiling, as 
 she glanced around the pleasant parlor, which 
 was a sort of museum, in itself. 
 
 " How old is Eanney ?" 
 
 " Nearly eight ; but he is rather small for his 
 age : if he does not take a notion that the 
 vehicle is too babyish, I think he will enjoy 
 getting about in it, very much. It seems quite 
 strongly made, and of course the top pushes 
 back, out of the way." 
 
 " I should think it would do nicely, dear, if it 
 do not prove rather heavy work for you : you. 
 must not go too far with him." 
 
 " No ; but I can use it to bring him around 
 here. You will see us quite often, I warn 
 you!" 
 
 "I hope I shall! And now you can stay 
 and practice a little while, I know. Take off 
 your things, and then sit down here a moment, 
 first ; for I have some good news to tell you." 
 
 " More good news ?" exclaimed Eunice, quickly 
 placing herself beside her friend. 
 
 "Yes, darling; the girls have all decided
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 189 
 
 now ; Celia and Kitty, as well as the rest of 
 our class. We are to have the comfort of see- 
 ing them all come forward to Confirmation, 
 Sunday after next !" 
 
 " Oh, that is good news !" cried Eunice ; " I 
 am so glad, for them, and for you, too ! I 
 wonder" Eunice checked herself, and asked, 
 instead : 
 
 "Do you know of any others who will be 
 confirmed?" 
 
 "Not positively; but we hope that several 
 others will conclude to stand forth then on the 
 Lord's side. I did hope," added Frances, after 
 a pause, "that our cousin Dick would decide 
 aright this time ; but I fear he does not think 
 much of the subject." 
 
 Eunice looked up, wistfully. 
 
 " I was thinking of him !" she said. " Dear 
 Miss Lynde, I think he cares a good deal more 
 than one would suppose. I do yet hope he 
 will come forward !" 
 
 The shy manner of her little friend revealed to 
 Frances that she had suspected the state of the 
 case between herself and her so-called cousin.
 
 190 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 She drew Eunice close to her, and gave her a 
 loving kiss, as she replied : 
 
 " I hope so, too, darling ! Now come and let 
 us try that new anthem together !" 
 
 It was a fact, that Dick North was deeply 
 attached to Frances ; and that she could easily 
 have returned the attachment, but for the one 
 obstacle which caused her to keep a strict 
 guard upon her affections. Dick was, as she 
 believed, regardless of religious duties, living 
 without God in the world : and Frances Lynde 
 was not one to give her heart and hand into 
 the keeping of such a man. 
 
 Eanney was very much pleased with 
 his new conveyance, and also with the boy 
 friends who came to bring it ; for Arthur came 
 too. 
 
 Arthur was " nearly as big as brother George," 
 as Kanney confidentially informed him ; and 
 this led to an animated account of George's 
 exploits, which, to the town-boys, was very 
 amusing. 
 
 " It's most school-time," said Arthur ; " I 
 must be off ! Shall I come, some time, and give
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 191 
 
 you a ride in this thicg ? I'm stronger than 
 your sister ! " 
 
 Eanney was much pleased with the offer, and 
 thought Arthur was a real nice fellow, " most as 
 clever as Georgie ! " 
 
 Little Jack stayed an hour or two with Eau- 
 ney, which gave Eunice a capital chance to read 
 up her Latin ; and then she proposed that they 
 should take Eanney out ; which they did, and 
 all enjoyed it. 
 
 OLIO morning, when Eunice was studying, 
 Eanney asked for a paper and pencil, and 
 Eunice opened the drawer of the table in which 
 her drawing materials and sketches were kept, 
 to supply him. 
 
 " What is that, Eunie ?" said he, pointing to 
 one of her drawings. 
 
 She took it out, and showed it to him. 
 
 Mr. Hartwell was in the room ; a very un- 
 usual thing at that time of the day, but he had 
 been detained by some matters of business. 
 
 He looked up from his writing, and said : 
 
 " Eunice makes nice pictures, doesn't she, 
 little man?"
 
 192 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Please make some more, Eunie ; 
 why don't you ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't have Mr. Neville to show me 
 how," replied she, laughing. 
 
 " Shall we send her off to the picture-man, 
 Kanney, to learn to make more pictures ? 
 
 " Seriously, Eunice, you may as well be 
 taking a few more lessons ; your eyes are quite 
 well again, are they not ?" 
 
 " I think so, uncle ; I should at least be glad 
 to try ; but I do not know that I can leave 
 Rauuey, to take the lessons." 
 
 " Ho ! Yes you can ! I can stay up in 
 Aunt Mildred's room when you go," quoth 
 Banuey, who was quite interested in the picture 
 making. 
 
 Mrs. Hart well "wondered they had not 
 thought of it before," and so it was settled that 
 Eunice should re-commence the next day, which 
 was the day the class met. 
 
 "Well, my dear," said her aunt, as she re- 
 turned from her lesson, " what did Mr. Neville 
 say to his truant pupil ?" 
 
 " He seemed glad to have me begin again,
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAT. 193 
 
 and he said we must work in earnest, to make 
 Up for lost time." 
 
 " Do not let yourself become so engrossed as 
 to forget to be careful in using your eyes, my 
 dear child ! You will promise me to stop draw- 
 ing at once, when you feel the least pain or 
 weakness in them, will you not ?" 
 
 " Indeed I will, Aunt Edith. I suppose I 
 must expect some interruptions from them ; 
 and there must probably be some days when I 
 shall not be able to leave Banney. 
 
 " I told Mr. Neville he must not be surprised 
 if I should miss some lessons ; but I am very 
 glad to be able to go on, Aunt Edith, if only 
 for half the time." 
 
 Eunice was greatly favored in being spared 
 any further trouble with her eyes ; taught by 
 past experience, she was very careful to work 
 in a good light, and not too long at a time. 
 
 But her little charge sometimes interfered 
 with her delightful work; Eunice soon dis- 
 covered that it was harder to be patient when 
 interrupted in the midst of her drawing, than 
 
 at any other occupation ; and she was 
 13
 
 194 EUNICE 80MERS. 
 
 to keep a close watch over herself, to avoid 
 breaking her resolution. 
 
 The day on which she was to have taken the 
 third lesson, Banney was feeling more than 
 commonly unwell. It was a rainy day, and lie 
 had not been out, which perhaps aggravated 
 his miseiy ; and as the hour for the lesson drew 
 near, Eunice saw, with much disappointment, . 
 that there was little hope of her being able to 
 
 go- 
 Mrs. Hartwell was very busy, and had evi- 
 dently forgotten that it was "drawing day;" 
 and Aunt Mildred had a " poor turn," as she 
 would have described it, so Banney could not 
 stay with her. 
 
 There was nothing for it but resignation; 
 so Eunice put away her drawing-tools, with just 
 the faintest shadow of a sigh, and devoted her- 
 self to soothing and comforting her young 
 patient. 
 
 She spent some time in bathing and rubbing 
 the " place that ached," as Banney called it ; 
 then put on a comfortable little wrapper, which 
 Aunt Mildred had found strength to make for
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAT. 195 
 
 him, and took him on her lap by a front win- 
 dow, that he might be diverted by what was 
 passing, as well as by the story she was telling 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly Kanney sprang up, exclaiming joy- 
 full j", " There he comes ! I didn't s'pose he 
 would !" 
 
 " There who comes ?" said Eunice. " See 
 here, little man ! If you jump around in that 
 style, I shall have to bathe you again ! Who 
 is coming ?" 
 
 " Why, Koland ! He said he would. 
 
 " See ! He's been to that house opposite, 
 but I know he meaut to come here ! Yes, now 
 they've told him, and he is coming across !" 
 
 "Why did you not tell me before that he 
 was coming, you little rogue ?" cried Eunice, 
 hastily putting Kanney in trim to go down- 
 stairs. 
 
 The child forgot his aches in the pleasure of 
 greeting Roland, and Eunice was quite as 
 nmch pleased to see him, though wholly taken 
 by surprise. 
 
 " Ranney has been expecting you, it seems ;
 
 196 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 but he had not told me you were coming 
 here ; pray how did it happen ?" 
 
 " I only told him that I might possibly come 
 to Holmeford," said Roland : " it was not 
 settled when he left. 
 
 "Father was partly expecting to come on 
 here, on business ; and he had promised, if he 
 did so, to let me accompany him, as the 
 business was partly on my account." 
 
 Eunice looked the question which she did 
 not ask; and to which Roland replied, smil- 
 ing: 
 
 " Father thinks I need a year at some first- 
 rate school, to finish fitting for college ; and 
 Dr. Barnwell's has been recommended to him, 
 a little out of Holmeford, you know, just 
 far enough to have country privileges. 
 
 " We are to go out there, to see Dr. Barnwell 
 to-morrow, so I thought I would find you out 
 to-day, for I wanted very much to see you, and 
 Ranney." 
 
 A lively conversation followed. Roland had 
 to tell all the Mansfield news, and to answer 
 Ranney's eager questions. The little lad felt as
 
 INCIDENTS BY THE WAY. 197 
 
 if he had been away from home almost as long 
 as Eunice. 
 
 " And how have you got on with Mr. Hale 
 this winter?" Eunice asked. 
 
 " Oh, do you not know that Mr. Hale left, 
 some weeks ago ? He had a much better offer 
 than the trustees could make him, in Mansfield. 
 
 " We have had a lady teacher since, but I do 
 not think she will stay, permanently : the 
 Academy will be all ready for you to take, 
 Eunice, when you want it." 
 
 Eunice smiled ; and Roland added : 
 
 "You have been sadly hindered in your 
 studies this winter, haven't you? I was so 
 sorry to hear about your eyes." 
 
 " Yes, but it was not att lost time : uncle was 
 so kind, and took so much pains, that I think I 
 have improved faster than would be supposed." 
 
 " Improved in more ways than one !" was 
 Koland's mental comment, as Eunice arose to 
 speak to her Aunt Edith, whom she heard 
 passing in the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell entered, and gave Eoland 
 a warm greeting, and a cordial invitation to
 
 198 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 stay at her house ; but this he was unable to 
 accept. 
 
 The young friends and schoolmates com- 
 pared notes as to progress in their studies ; 
 and Roland exclaimed in surprise, when he 
 found how Eunice had got on. 
 
 " I don't think you could have accomplished 
 as much at school, with eyes !" he said. 
 
 Altogether it was a very pleasant incident, 
 this visit ; and Eunice concluded, after Roland 
 had gone, that it was just as well that she was 
 detained from her lesson, that day.
 
 'CHAPTEK XV. 
 
 $)Uasant 
 
 He willa His people to be glad, 
 
 Sin only can their peace destroy : 
 He never inado thee to be sad, 
 Who gave thee such a heart for joy." 
 
 jjKE you very tired, Ranney ?" 
 
 " Yes !" The answer was accom- 
 panied with the weary sigh which 
 meant " More than tired!" 
 
 Eunice laid down her book, and seated 
 herself in a lo\v chair. 
 
 " Come, dear, let us rock a little while, and it 
 will soon be time to go to rest." 
 
 It was just after dinner, and Cousin Dick 
 was in the room. Eanney looked a little shy, 
 as if fearing to be laughed at if he let his sister 
 hold him. But indeed the slight little figure 
 was no heavy burden; though his friends 
 
 199
 
 200 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 hoped that he gained a little, on the whole, the 
 improvement was not perceptible in his outward 
 appearance. 
 
 Oousin Dick felt too sorry and anxious for 
 him to have any disposition to tease. 
 
 He lifted him lightly upon his sister's lap : 
 " That's a capital way to rest, isn't it, Ranney?" 
 said he : " I wish I had a sister to pet me, Avhen 
 I have a headache !" 
 
 " What were you reading, Pussy ? shall 
 I read aloud to you ?" 
 
 " Thank you, Cousin Dick ; I was only look- 
 ing out the Collect, and so on, for to-morrow." 
 
 " The Fourth Sunday after Easter," said he : 
 " I shall like to read it, too." And he opened 
 the Prayer-book, and read the Collect rever- 
 ently. 
 
 " ' Almighty God, who alone canst order 
 the unruly wills and affections of sinful men ; 
 Grant unto Thy people, that they may love the 
 things which Thou commandest, and desire 
 that which Thou dost promise ; that so, among 
 the sundry and manifold changes of the world, 
 our hearts may surely there be fixed where
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 201 
 
 true joys are to be found : through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord." 
 
 He seemed struck with the words, and held 
 the book musiugly in his hand. Presently, 
 meeting a glance from Eunice, he said : 
 
 " It is appropriate, is it not, little cousin, for 
 one who is just beginning to wish that his 
 unruly will and affections may be thus ordered ?" 
 
 " It is appropriate for every one of us," said 
 Eunice, with a thrill of hope and pleasure ; 
 " but, oh, Cousin Dick ! I am so glad !" 
 
 " So glad of what ?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 " That you have decided ; that you will be 
 confirmed !" 
 
 " I have not said that, coz." 
 
 "But I know you will!" replied Eunice, 
 looking up at him with a happy smile. 
 
 Dick did not answer, but she knew that he 
 was not displeased. 
 
 " Shall I read on ?" he said ; and read the 
 Epistle, and the Gospel for the day. 
 
 "He will guide you into all truth," he 
 repeated, thoughtfully: "if we might only 
 experience that to be true, Eunice."
 
 202 EUNICE SOMEES. 
 
 " But it is ! I mean, we shall be sure to find 
 it so, Cousin Dick, if we will let, ourselves be 
 guided, or submit to be ' ordered,' as the 
 Collect says." 
 
 The young man gazed thoughtfully into her 
 earnest face. 
 
 " The ' ordering ' is not always as we should 
 
 
 
 choose for ourselves ; is it, Eunie ?" 
 
 For all answer, Eunice reached a hymn-book 
 from the table, and turned readily to one which 
 had of late become a favorite with her : the 
 now well-known hymn commencing : 
 " Lead, kindly Light." 
 
 She handed the book to him, pointing to this, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Is the Bishop coming to the church to- 
 morrow?" asked Banney. 
 
 " Ye$, dear." 
 
 " I wish I could go to church ! I do want to, 
 so much." 
 
 " Be patient, dear little man, and I hope you 
 will soon be able to go again ; but you could 
 not bear it now ; you would get too tired." 
 
 " I know what the Bishop said, when Boland
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 203 
 
 Wells, and the others, were confirmed : he 
 said : 
 
 " ' Defend, O Lord, this Thy child with Thy 
 heavenly gr.-ice !' 
 
 " I wish I were old enough to have the Bishop 
 put his hands on my head !" 
 
 Eunice glanced timidly at her cousin, who 
 sat, an interested listener, and awaited her reply. 
 
 "You will soon be old enough, darling! 
 But you remember Wlio placed His hands on 
 little children, and blessed them ?" 
 
 " Yes, Jesus !" said the child : 
 
 " I wish that His hands had been placed on my head, 
 That His arm had been thrown around me," 
 
 he added, quoting from his little hymn; but 
 the words startled Dick, who was not familiar 
 with them. 
 
 "But you know," rejoined his sister, that 
 hymn says, too : 
 
 " ' But still to His footstool in prayer I may go, 
 And ask for a share in His love !' " 
 
 Kiinney nodded, understandingly. 
 He seemed unusually bright, the next morn- 
 ing, and it was a lovely day.
 
 204 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Cousin Dick held a whispered consultation 
 with Mrs. Hurtwell and Eunice, the result 
 of which was a decision that Runney might 
 go to church. 
 
 Dick offered to wheel him thither, himself, 
 and to bring him home again. 
 
 The child seemed so greatly to enjoy the 
 service, and to appreciate the privilege of being 
 again at church, that his friends felt it would 
 be safe to repeat the experiment, at another 
 day. 
 
 And did Eunice enjoy the service ? 
 
 She did, indeed ! 
 
 Glancing towards her uncle's pew, from her 
 seat with the choir, she met the eye of her little 
 brother, beaming with pleasure, as he nestled 
 beside his aunt ; and saw her cousin Dick also, 
 evidently prepared to enter reverently and 
 heartily into the solemn services of the day. 
 
 The low tones of the organ recalled her 
 attention to her own duty ; and a pleasant and 
 blessed duty it seemed, that day 1 
 
 As the candidates for confirmation were 
 summoned to the chancel, Eunice felt her hand
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 205 
 
 clasped meaningly in that of her friend, Miss 
 Lyiide. 
 
 Dick North was among the number ; and the 
 four young girls, her classmates in Sunday- 
 school, and others whom they knew, and in 
 whom they were both interested. 
 
 They followed them in the reception of the 
 holy rite, with heartfelt sympathy and prayer. 
 
 That week was to bring Eunice a joyful sur- 
 prise. She was returning with Iluuney from 
 Miss Lyude's, one day, having been practising 
 with her, as usual. 
 
 As she drew near home, a carriage from the 
 depot drove up in front of the house, and a 
 gentleman alighted, who, as Eunice thought 
 at the little distance, looked wonderfully like 
 her uncle himself. 
 
 But who could be with him ? She had not 
 heard of any expected guests. 
 
 Certain mysterious observations which had 
 passed at breakfast that morning flashed 
 through her mind, and made her quicken her 
 pace, just as Banney shouted in great ex- 
 citement :
 
 206 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Eunice, see ! There is papa ! Yes, and 
 mamma too ! Oh, please hurry !" 
 
 This request was not needed. The perambu- 
 lator flew along the walk, and in another mo- 
 ment Eunice was fondly clasped in her mother's 
 arms. 
 
 Such a long embrace it was, that her father 
 at length smilingly asked : " Have you not a 
 kiss for me too, my daughter?" 
 
 Then followed a torrent of questions and 
 exclamations, which could not well be tran- 
 scribed. 
 
 As it proved, the visit had been rather sud- 
 denly resolved upon, in compliance with 
 repeated and urgent invitations from Mr. and 
 Mrs. Hartwell ; the latter had received word 
 that they were coming, the evening before, but 
 had concluded to let it be a surprise to Eunice 
 and Eanney, as indeed it was. 
 
 " And what did you do with all the children ?" 
 inquired Eunice, in a puzzled tone. 
 
 " The little girls and George are with Mrs. 
 "Wells, who kindly offered to take care of them 
 if we would come."
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 207 
 
 A slight tremor in her mother's voice showed 
 Eunice that she Avas thinking of her infant boy, 
 taken so lately into heavenly guardianship ; and 
 she clasped the dear hand she held with a 
 sympathizing pressure. 
 
 One principal inducement to this visit had 
 been that the parents might themselves see 
 Ranney's physician, and obtain careful instruc- 
 tions as to the course best to be pursued with 
 him, when he should return home. 
 
 " You will take us home when you go, will 
 you not ?" queried Eunice, when allusion was 
 made to this. , 
 
 " We thought a little of it, when we left 
 home, dear ; but our friends say ' no !' " 
 
 " Leave them here, by ah 1 means, another 
 month," said Mr. Hartwell. " It will be then 
 only the middle of June, and they will return 
 before the warmest and most trying weather. 
 
 " We think our little city is as pleasant as 
 most country places, at this season !" 
 
 " How wonderfully Holmeford has grown 
 and improved, since my last visit here !" re- 
 marked Mr. Soiners.
 
 208 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Tes ; we have, in fact, become so cityfied 
 tliat I do not know as you will find your 
 daughter contented with rural life again !" 
 
 Eunice smiled : and Mr. Somers rejoined in 
 the same playful tone : " You cannot tell what 
 Mansfield may aspire to be, in the course of a 
 few years; it may rival Hohneford ! But 
 really," he added, "joking apart, the proposed 
 railroad will make a great difference with our 
 place." 
 
 This conversation was at dinner-time. Cousin 
 Dick caught the last remark, and followed 
 it up with sundry interested inquiries. 
 
 Eunice wondered a little that he should seem 
 so much concerned in the progress of Mans- 
 field ; but as the ladies were engaged upon 
 topics of more immediate interest to her, she 
 did not hear all that was said. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Somers remained a whole week 
 in Holmeford, although they at first thought 
 they could stay but two days. 
 
 It was a delightful week to Eunice. It was 
 BO nice to have her mother become acquainted , 
 with dear gentle Aunt Mildred, whom she had
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 209 
 
 never met before ; and with her darling Miss 
 Lyiide. 
 
 Mrs. Somers went also with Eunice one day 
 to see Mrs. Merritt, who was quite indisposed at 
 the time, and unable to be out. 
 
 Eunice said 'she did want her mother to 
 know Rhoda's mother!' and she was not dis- 
 appointed in the interview. 
 
 " Don't you like Cousin Dick, mother dear ?" 
 she asked, one day. 
 
 " I do, indeed ; I think he is a really esti- 
 mable young man," was the reply. 
 
 "But isn't it odd that he and papa should 
 take such a mutual liking !" said Eunice. 
 
 " There they go, walking out again to- 
 gether !" 
 
 " Then you have not noticed the drift of their 
 conversation ?" said her mother : " I suppose 
 it is no secret from you, although of coarse you . 
 will not speak of the matter out of the family, 
 until it is fully settled. 
 
 " Cousin Dick thinks seriously of entering 
 into partnership with your father, in his busi- 
 ness." 
 
 14
 
 210 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! Is it possible ? How nico 
 that would be ! But I thought," she added, 
 " that father's business of late had been hardly 
 sufficient to offer many inducements to a part- 
 ner!" 
 
 " Very true ; but you know, my love, he has 
 been crippled by ill-health, and want of means. 
 Our friend Dick has capital to invest, and has 
 been looking around for a good opening, to 
 start for himself. He is well suited with your 
 father's line of business, and seems to put a 
 high value upon his experience and wisdom ; 
 none too high, you and I would say ! Then you 
 are aware, dear, that the new railroad is fairly 
 commenced and is to be pushed through with 
 all possible expedition ; and this, as Dick has 
 foresight enough to perceive, will make a great 
 difference in the business of our town. 
 
 " Still, even if they resolve upon the partner- 
 ship, they will not fully decide to go on at 
 Mansfield, until Dick has been there, to look 
 around with your father. He proposes now 
 to escort you and Eanney home, next month, 
 and see the place for himself."
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 211 
 
 Eunice clapped her hands in delight. 
 
 Mrs. Somers smiled, and said: "Do not be 
 setting your heart too much upon this plan, 
 nay darling ; you know it may very possibly 
 fall through." 
 
 " 1 will try not to, but I'm afraid I cannot 
 help thinking of it !" 
 
 She mused a little, and then said : 
 
 " I have had some lessons, you know, this 
 uinter, about setting my heart too strongly 
 on any plans ; but after all, mother, don't you 
 think it is right to look on the bright side, and 
 see all the pleasant things we can ?" 
 
 " By all means, my darling ; and you can 
 understand that to one who has truly committed 
 his way unto the Lord, there is always some- 
 thing to make the heart rejoice, yes, and sing 
 for joy, even in the darkest hours ! 
 
 " Do you remember those lines in the little 
 poem we were looking over last evening ? 
 
 ' ' Let thy heart open to the bliss 
 
 Ho would breathe in at every pore ; 
 Lire but in Him, thou canst not miss 
 His mercies in their boundless store.'
 
 212 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " And then again : 
 
 ' ' And so this world, in its pure prime, 
 Was once an easier way to God. 
 But still 'tis glorious, and the path 
 Even of its fallen beauty, lies 
 Open to love, and clear for faith, 
 Step after step, into the skies !' " 
 
 Dr. Browne, in his interview with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Somers, gave them considerable encour- 
 agement with regard to Kannej. 
 
 He thought that with careful management he 
 might escape any tedious chronic disease ; jet 
 he warned them that the child might be 
 delicate and ailing, even with the best of care, 
 for months, perhaps years. 
 
 This opinion was much more favorable than 
 their fears had led them to anticipate. 
 
 They returned home, at the close of their 
 pleasant visit, relieved and hopeful as to their 
 little boy, and sincerely pleased and thankful 
 for the evident improvement of their eldest 
 child. 
 
 Eunice had indeed improved, as Roland had 
 observed, 'in more ways than one,' during her 
 sojourn in Holineford.
 
 PLEASANT THINGS. 213 
 
 She had grown and strengthened physically ; 
 and, although she was not one who would be 
 pronounced handsome, she possessed the charm 
 of expressive features, animated by intelligence, 
 and rendered winning by the gentle loving spirit 
 within. 
 
 Yes, the heart of the father and mother 
 rejoiced especially, that their child had per- 
 ceptibly grown and increased in the knowledge 
 of Christ Jesns our Lord. 
 
 Dearly would her intellectual advantages 
 have been purchased, in the estimation of these 
 faithful Christian parents, had she failed to 
 make progress in heavenly wisdom ; had the 
 influences of her winter's home blighted, or 
 stunted the growth of that plant of the Lord's 
 planting which they had so devotedly nurtured; 
 the character of a disciple of Christ !
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 "Stotet Courts*!." 
 
 1 No dream : bnt an abiding consciousness 
 Of an approving God ; a righteous aim ; 
 An Arm outstretched to guide them, and to b]0s8 1" 
 
 I HE visit of the parents of Eunice 
 had given much pleasure to all the 
 household, as well as to Eunice and 
 
 
 
 little Kanney. 
 
 " I shall expect more of yon, my dear," said 
 Miss Dora, in her lively way, "now that I have 
 seen your parents. You ought to be a pretty 
 good girl, with such a mother !" 
 
 Eunice thought so too. 
 
 The days sped rapidly, more so than ever, 
 now that the time was fixed for her return 
 home. There was so much that she would like 
 to do before leaving Holmeford. 
 (214)
 
 "SWEET COUNSEL." 215 
 
 Ranney was not particularly better ; but 
 Aunt Mildred was. 
 
 She was very foud of the child, and liked to 
 have him with her ; and he was very happy in 
 her room. 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about Ranney, when 
 he is with me, my dear ;" said the kind old 
 lady, when Eunice looked in, one morning, 
 thinking she might be wearied of her young 
 visitor.* 
 
 "Let him stay here as much as he likes, 
 unless it is time for some medicine, or nursing. 
 I kuow you can make use of all your time, in 
 these busy days." 
 
 Eunice saw very little of her cousin Dick, 
 who seemed unusually occupied ; though he 
 found time for an occasional allusion to ' the 
 famous time ' he and Ranney would have, when 
 he took his vacation, and went home to Mans- 
 field with them. 
 
 The passing seasons of the Church were not 
 unnoticed, amid the eager claims of earthly 
 work. 
 
 On Monday of "Whitsun-week, Eunice had
 
 216 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 proposed to take K;imiey to church, with the 
 aid of the friendly wheels which had been such 
 a help to her; and then, after service, to go 
 to Miss Lyude's to practise. 
 
 The morning proved rainy, and consequently 
 she was expecting to give up going, but Mrs. 
 Hartwell interposed. 
 
 "My sore throat will prevent me from going 
 out, but I can attend to our boy, and you can 
 go, Eunice. 
 
 "You need not hasten home, either. I 
 expect Ranney will be very much amused with 
 the paint-box which Dick brought for him, 
 Saturday night. Ah, I forgot to mention it to 
 you ! I thought it would come in play for just 
 such a time : so you can practise as long as 
 your throat Avill bear it : I am glad mine is not 
 to be tired in that way this morning !" 
 
 " I wish every part of me were as tough as 
 my throat !" cried Eunice, gayly ; " I think that 
 is made of gutta-percha ; it never tires ! But 
 auntie, I am very much obliged to you for 
 letting me go. I will try to make good use of 
 my morning.
 
 "SWEET COUNSEL." 217 
 
 " How kind Cousin Dick was to think of a 
 paint-box for Ranuey ! I will cut out some 
 pictures from those pictorial ' Weeklies,' in the 
 library, if you have done with them, before I 
 go ; ai:d show him how to color them." 
 
 Kauney was delighted with his new employ- 
 ment, and Eunice left him seated at a table 
 with his coloring apparatus before him, happy 
 as a king. 
 
 " I suppose we are not to have many more of 
 these pleasant singing hours, Eunie ! " said 
 Miss Lynde, when there was a pause in their 
 practising. 
 
 " No ; but they have given me something to 
 remember you b}-, as long as I live ; though I 
 never could forget my darling teacher ! It is 
 so nice to be able to read music, and sing by 
 note ; and I really am not afraid to try a new 
 tune now ! 
 
 " How I ivisli I could do something to show 
 how much I thank you for all the pains you 
 have taken to teach me ! " 
 
 " Why, my dear child, I have been * thanked ' 
 and rewarded all along ! "I have only one
 
 218 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 further reward to crave, and that I need hardly 
 ask ! " 
 
 " What is it? " inquired Eunice, eagerly. 
 
 " That this talent, which I have been per- 
 mitted to aid in developing, may ever be conse- 
 crated." 
 
 Perceiving that Eunice looked a little awed 
 and perplexed, she hastened to add : 
 
 " I mean, darling, that in the first place, you 
 will always be ready to serve God with your 
 voice, as for instance you have had opportunity 
 to do already, this spring." 
 
 " It seems to me now that I shall always be 
 glad to do that /" said Eunice. " I wonder if 
 I can help at all in our choir at home? 
 
 "Now I think of it, mother mentioned that 
 one lady who used to sing has married and left 
 town. Perhaps I shall find work there !" 
 
 " And from your buoyant tone, dearie, I see 
 that you deem it pleasant work. 
 
 " So it is, and a great privilege : and yet you 
 may meet some trying things in it : you may 
 hear unpleasant, or perhaps even unkind criti- 
 cisms upon your singing, when you have been
 
 "SWEET COUNSEL." 219 
 
 humbly trying to do your best, and when yon 
 are conscious that you are supplying a place 
 which might else be unfilled. 
 
 " I speak of these things only to warn you, 
 darling, in case God gives you this work to do, 
 to remember that it is in His service, and for 
 Him ; and that will help you to be patient, and 
 not easily provoked." 
 
 " I icttl try to remember, dear Miss Lynde ! 
 But you said, ' In the first place ; ' how else can 
 I consecrate my voice ? " 
 
 " By resolving never to sing any profane 
 or irreverent words ; or any sentiment which 
 you would feel ashamed to avow, in any other 
 form." 
 
 " I hope I should not do that ;" said Eunice. 
 
 " Ton look a little shocked, dear ; but indeed, 
 we need to be a little on the watch in this 
 matter: very strange and unseemly words are 
 often uttered, unthinkingly, disguised by some 
 popular or pleasing air ! " 
 
 " I believe," said Eunice, after a pause, " my 
 singing lessons may prove more useful to me 
 than my drawing: although I have enjoyed
 
 220 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 that so much, when 1 could go on with it ! But 
 I'm afraid what I have learned will be pretty 
 much a loss, for I cannot do much yet without 
 a teacher, and I don't know when I shall ever 
 be taught any further ; sometimes I think it 
 was not wise to begin ! " 
 
 " Then you think wrongly, my dear ! It was 
 right and wise to use the opportunity as long 
 as it was given you. You cannot tell of how 
 much use the knowledge you have now gained 
 may be to you, if you should never be able to 
 learn more of the art. 
 
 " When I was a little girl I went to school to 
 a lady who was very ingenious at different kinds 
 of work. 
 
 "She always kept some bit of light work in 
 the drawer of her table, in the school-room, to 
 take up at recess, or when she had a spare 
 moment or two. 
 
 " I remember once standing by her, watching 
 her busy fingers at a piece of netting, which 
 looked like puzzle-work to me. 
 
 " I said something to this effect : that ' I
 
 "SWEET COUNSEL." 221 
 
 should like to know Low to do that, if I could 
 ever make it of any use.' 
 
 " ' I shall be very glad to show you, some 
 time,' said my teacher ; ' and as to making use 
 of it, do you always make a point to learn 
 everything worth knowing, as you have oppor- 
 tunity ; and it will be sure to come in play, in 
 some way.' 
 
 " I have very often proved the truth of this 
 saying of my old teacher. So do not quarrel 
 with your drawing-lessons, Miss Eunice." 
 
 Eunice smiled. " I suspect," she said, " that 
 I set out with too magnificent plans and desires, 
 and so I feel disappointed, when they come to 
 mind. 
 
 "And I am always doing that same thing, 
 Miss Lynde. 
 
 " I do wish that is, I think it would be such 
 a comfort if we could know just what we had 
 before us, to do, in our lives ; and then perhaps 
 we should not make so many mistakes, and try at 
 so many things that we can never succeed with." 
 
 " Stop, stop, my dear girl ! You are on the 
 wrong track entirely !
 
 222 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Do not wish that we could see before us in 
 the path of life ; we are far happier as we are ; 
 our Father ' knoweth the way that we take ;' 
 ' Our times are in His hand.' 
 
 " And as to trying at so many things that seem 
 of no use ; that reminds me of school-days 
 again. 
 
 " Think how many of our tasks, as little chil- 
 dren, seem to us of no possible use ; how often 
 we have heard some sturdy little fellow mutter, 
 ' "What's the good of learning this !' Yet all the 
 while, his intellectual powers were being ^de- 
 veloped and disciplined to grapple with future 
 difficulties, and remove obstacles in his onward 
 career. % 
 
 " It is just so, very often, darling, with those 
 things that we regard as mistakes, a waste of 
 time and effort. Often we live to see the good 
 that has come to us through these very means ; 
 and if we cannot see, we ' know that all things 
 work together for good to them that love 
 God ;' even their failures." 
 
 Eunice mused a little over these words. 
 
 "I know what you mean, Miss Lynde ; but
 
 "SWEET COUNSEL." 223 
 
 we ought to look forward, and plan, and try to 
 do \vh;it is for the best ; shouldn't we ?" 
 
 " Think over the Collect which we use this 
 week, dear, aud it will answer you. 
 
 "Yes; we are taught to pray that we may 
 ' hare a right judgment in all things.' 
 
 " But we also pray that the same blessed 
 Spirit who alone can guide us, will cause us 
 * evermore to rejoice in His holy comfort,' 
 whether our plans seem to us to succeed, or to 
 fail." 
 
 " Our Collects always give us something to 
 think about," responded Eunice. 
 
 " And you have helped me so much in using 
 them. Dear Miss Lynde, how I shall miss 
 you !" 
 
 " Call me Frances now, Eunice ; you aud I 
 are to be always friends, you know," said her 
 companion, drawing her more closely to her 
 siile. " Aud, you may not always miss me !" 
 
 Eunice looked up suddenly, aud catchiug the 
 significant look and smile which accompanied 
 these words, a whole train of delightful possi- 
 bilities rushed across her mind.
 
 224 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 " No, no," said her friend, laughingly, placing 
 her hand on her lips as Eunice was about to 
 interrogate her : 
 
 " I shall not explain my rash announcement, 
 so you need ask no questions, now. Wait 
 patiently a little longer, my dear." 
 
 " Well, but } T OU cannot keep me from guess- 
 ing," replied Eunice, mischievously. " Oh, if 
 things should come out as I hope, it would be 
 almost too nice !" 
 
 And Eunice tripped homeward that morning 
 with a light step, a happy heart, and a mind 
 full of useful and helpful thoughts.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 ' Love all on earth that charms then ao 
 With a whole heart ; 'tis life to love, 
 But still remember, life below 
 la but the school of Life Above I" 
 
 | HE middle of June, the time appointed 
 for the return, was now at hand. 
 
 Mr. Neville, in parting with his 
 pupil, gave her many useful directions for im- 
 proving herself at home in drawing ; and 
 warmly expressed the hope that he should have 
 the pleasure of instructing her again, before 
 rery long. 
 
 The packing up was rather a different matter 
 from that when Eunice left home. Aunt Dora, 
 under pretext of " giving her dear girl all the 
 time possible for her studies, now that her eyes 
 were better," had taken charge of her Spring 
 15 (225)
 
 226 EUNICE SOBERS. 
 
 outfit, aided and abetted by generous Aunt 
 Mildred ; and it was found necessary to replace 
 the little old-fashioned hair trunk with one much 
 more capacious, to be returned by Cousin Dick. 
 
 Eunice spent an hour or two of her last after- 
 noon in Holrneford with Aunt Mildred. 
 
 She was unable to sit up that day, but re- 
 clined on her lounge, and Eunice sat on a low 
 seat beside her, holding her hand in both her 
 own. 
 
 Both felt that it might be their last opportu- 
 nity for " a good talk," as Aunt Mildred termed 
 it. 
 
 " I hardly think I shall tarry here until you 
 come again to Holmeford, my darling," she 
 said ; " but you will not forget the old auntie 
 who lo-ved you very much, will you?" 
 
 Eunice kissed her fondly, with tears in her 
 eyes, for answer. 
 
 "We shall meet again, dear child, in our 
 Father's House ; and then we shall recount the 
 mercies of these days with thankful hearts, and 
 praise Him who led us to be ' helpers of each 
 other's joy.' "
 
 HOME AGAIN. 227 
 
 " I think that help has been all on one side, 
 dear Aunt Mildred !" Eunice said, smiling 
 through her tears : " you have been doing 
 something to make me happy continually, 
 since I came here." 
 
 " And you have been a great comfort to me, 
 my love ! 
 
 " But Aunt Edith is calling ; I must not keep 
 you any longer now ; you will come in to- 
 morrow to say ' Good-bye !' ' 
 
 It was rather a hard task to say good-bye, 
 when the time came; for Eunice had reason 
 to feel warmly and gratefully attached to her 
 Holmeford friends. 
 
 They had a pleasant journey home ; Cousin 
 Dick was exceedingly kind, making Eanney as 
 comfortable as possible, and causing the time 
 to pass very agreeably to Eunice. 
 
 Dick -was lively as ever, but his conversation 
 had lost the flippant tone which had once 
 struck Eunice unpleasantly. The two had now 
 many subjects in common, of real interest; and 
 Dick no longer regarded his cousin as a child, 
 to be teased and bantered for his amusement.
 
 228 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 At Lome once more ! Arid how delightful it 
 w.is to be again in the midst of the dear 
 circle. 
 
 The dear little place was looking its very 
 prettiest ; so in fact was Mansfield in general ; 
 and Dick was quite charmed with his proposed 
 place of residence. 
 
 He and Mr. Somers were together most of 
 the time, during his stay, talking up their 
 mutual plans. 
 
 Eunice was delighted to see that her father 
 appeared in better health than she had seen 
 him in a long time ; and he was evidently 
 encouraged and hopeful as to business pros- 
 pects. 
 
 At the tea-table, the evening before Dick 
 was to return to Holmeford, the announcement 
 was made that all was arranged, for the new 
 partnership, to go into effect in the early 
 autumn. 
 
 The boys received the tidings with a shout 
 of joy, excusable under the circumstances ; 
 George, as well as Ranney, having found out 
 that Cousin Dick was " tip-top," as they
 
 HOME AGAIN. 229 
 
 expressed themselves ; " the nicest sort of a 
 fellow for a grown-up cousin !" George added. 
 
 Mrs. Somers and Eunice were no less pleased, 
 although more quiet in their demonstrations of 
 joy. 
 
 " Are you really coming back to Mansfield to 
 stay, Cousin Dick ?" queried Bess : " and will 
 you live with us, and be our cousin all the 
 time?" 
 
 "I'll be your cousin, unchangeably, little 
 lady ; I'll promise, so far ! But as to where I 
 shall live, and how, I am not so certain." 
 
 Meeting a merry glance from Eunice, he 
 added : 
 
 " I may be obliged to consult some one else 
 in making such arrangements." 
 
 "Eunice evidently fancies herself in the 
 secret," observed Mrs. Somers : " and I judge 
 from her face that she has no doubt of the 
 arrangements being satisfactory to all con- 
 cerned." 
 
 "I don't know how they may feel on tbe 
 subject in Holmeford;" said Eunice, "but I 
 am sure we shall have reason to rejoice."
 
 230 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 Eunice made an early visit to baby "Walter's 
 grave, her little sisters leading the way. It 
 was in a lovely spot, and the sister felt that 
 she would do well to visit it often, and thus 
 remind herself of resolves seriously and earn- 
 estly made, but which she feared, from past 
 experience, might be too easily broken. 
 
 Eunice readily fell into a round of duties, 
 when settled again at home. 
 
 Ranney, at her request, remained her especial 
 charge ; the little fellow was evidently improv- 
 ing, though slowly ; he enjoyed being at home, 
 and with the other children, once more, but 
 when he was feeling poorly, or in pain, he was 
 easily crossed and irritated by the others. 
 
 Eunice tried hard to teach him patience and 
 forbearance ; she often told him of her friend 
 Rhoda. Ranney was always interested in hear- 
 ing of her ; and Eunice, while teaching him, 
 humbly endeavored to teach herself also, con- 
 stantly, by the remembrance of that sweet 
 example. 
 
 Eunice did not attempt much in the way of 
 study, for the summer, except an occasional
 
 HOME AGAIN. 231 
 
 review, occupying a few hours of each week ; 
 and some practice at drawing. 
 
 But, early in July, Roland returned home. 
 He had been visiting relatives in other places, 
 since his short stay in Holmeford. 
 
 He was full of the spirit of study, expecting 
 to enter Dr. Barnwell's school at the beginning 
 of the fall term. 
 
 " Suppose, Eunice," said he, when they had 
 one day been talking upon their favorite themes, 
 "suppose we study together, for an hour or 
 two, every day when you can spare the time ; 
 we might read Latin together, and help each 
 other ; what do you say ?" 
 
 "You can very easily arrange to spare the 
 time, I think, daughter ;" said Mrs. Somers, to 
 whom Eunice had appealed by a questioning 
 look; "and I think it will be an excellent 
 plan 1" 
 
 And so it proved ; if the satisfaction of the 
 young people was any test. 
 
 The little band of singers who led in the 
 church music at Mansfield, gladly welcomed an
 
 232 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 additional voice, when Eunice modestly offered 
 her aid. 
 
 And Eunice found another field of work 
 opened before her. 
 
 Talking one day with their venerable rector, 
 and answering his inquiries about Church work 
 in Holmeford, she chanced to allude to the 
 .Infant Class of the Sunday-school. 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Parker, that is something I 
 am very anxious to see started here. There is 
 quite a flock of little ones, of suitable age, in 
 the parish, if I could but find a teacher familiar 
 with the work." 
 
 "Eunice, dear," said her mother, after a 
 pause, " did you not gain a little experience, 
 when you were entrusted with Miss Scott's 
 class, for a time ? I reeolleot your aunt men- 
 tioned the circumstances, in one of her letters, 
 while you were troubled with your eyes, last 
 winter." 
 
 "Indeed! Did you so? l?hen, my dear, 
 you will be just the one to undertake this work 
 for me. 
 
 " And a good strong voice, too ! You can
 
 HOME AGAIN. 233 
 
 train the little things in singing. My dear 
 child, do not object ; I said you might under- 
 take this ' for me,' but you know Who calls you 
 to it, through me ; and Whom you may serve 
 in taking up this duty." 
 
 " But I am so young, dear Mr. Parker : in- 
 deed I should be glad to do it, if it were not 
 for that." 
 
 " You are young, but you had early nurture, 
 my dear ; and you have some especial qualifi- 
 cations. Besides, your little scholars will be 
 young, in proportion ; and you will be all the 
 time out-growiug this objection. 
 
 " What say you, then ; shall I gather my little 
 lambs, and make a beginning next Sunday ?" 
 
 And Eunice made answer, as she felt con- 
 strained to do, to a similar request, before : 
 
 " If you think I can do it, sir, I will try" 
 
 Correspondence with Holmeford was kept 
 tip briskly through the summer. 
 
 One letter, received by Eunice from her 
 friend, Frances Lynde, will furnish some ex- 
 tracts which may interest the reader.
 
 234 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 " Holmeford is very quiet now ; in fact, it is 
 too warm for mucli exertion. 
 
 " You ask if I expect to leave town this 
 summer : I think not ; as it will probably be 
 my last summer under my father's roof, I do 
 not feel much disposition to roam. 
 
 " Yes, Eunie, the time is decided upon ; it 
 is to be near Christmas ; probably the middle 
 of December. And having honored you with 
 this confidence, I have now a request to make 
 of you. 
 
 " I want you to be one of my young brides- 
 maids. I shall have two of my Sunday-school 
 girls besides, I think ; but I have set my heart 
 upon having you. 
 
 " Consult your dear mother ; and in your 
 next letter promise me that you will be 
 here. 
 
 " I called at your aunt's, a few days since, 
 and sat awhile with Mrs. Ellett. I think she is 
 a lovely old lady. She spoke very fondly 
 of you, and seemed to miss you very much. I 
 think she has failed since I saw her last. 
 
 " Your Aunt Edith spoke of her desire that
 
 HOME AGAIN. 235 
 
 you should spend some time with them again 
 this Fall, and perhaps go on again with your 
 drawing. 
 
 "Perhaps I should not mention this, but 
 I judged from her manner of speaking that she 
 had already made the proposal : if you should 
 do so, you might be on hand at the time I need 
 your services. 
 
 " Dick was delighted with his visit at Mans- 
 field, and is well satisfied with his prospects. 
 
 " He is quite desirous that I should see the 
 place ; but I prefer to wait now until I see it as 
 my home ; although I have also your tempting 
 invitation as an inducement, for which many 
 thanks. 
 
 " I must not omit to mention that I saw Mrs. 
 Merritt recently. She bears her loss in a truly 
 Christian spirit, although she evidently misses 
 her dear daughter more and more. The next 
 children are boys, you know ; and Rhoda was 
 very much of a companion for her mother, 
 although so young. 
 
 " Mr. Robertson inquired after you when I 
 saw him last : indeed many friends here hold
 
 236 EUNICE SOMEKS. 
 
 you in loving remembrance ; but none more 
 truly do so than 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " FRANCES LYNDE." 
 
 Eunice handed the letter to her mother, and 
 mused, while she was reading it. 
 
 This was the first intimation, except in a 
 general way, of her Aunt Edith's intended 
 invitation. 
 
 Mrs. Somers gave back the letter, saying 
 quietly : 
 
 " Well, dear, what do you think of it ?" 
 
 "I hardly know, mother; it will require a 
 good deal of thought. I should like very 
 much to be there at the time of the wedding, if 
 yu can afford to let me go. But, about the 
 longer stay, there will be so much to consider : 
 it seems very soon to leave you alone again ; and 
 then there is Banney, it will depend a good deal 
 upon how he gets on ; and my little class, too." 
 
 Some further discussioy. followed, as was 
 natural ; but at length Eunice remarked, laugh- 
 ingly :
 
 HOME AGAIN. 237 
 
 "After all, mother darling, auntie has not 
 invited me yet, and many things may happen 
 to hinder the plan. So we need not decide the 
 matter yet." 
 
 Mrs. Somers knew that her sister was in 
 earnest in the proposal, and, as matters stood 
 then, it seemed that it would be well for 
 Eunice to accept it ; but it was not necessary 
 to say this, and the subject was dropped, for 
 that time. She thought, however, with real 
 gratification, of the different manner in which 
 a similar proposition had been regarded by her 
 child the year before. 
 
 Then, although the difference betrayed it- 
 self less by words than by other unmistakable 
 tokens, all was eager, impetuous desire to 
 enter upon the path which promised so fully to 
 gratify her inclination and ambition. 
 
 Noiv the first question seemed to be, " What 
 is my duty ?" " Lord, what wilt Thou have me 
 to do ?" and she appeared ready to acquiesce 
 cheerfully in whatever decision should seem to 
 be right* 
 
 And here we must take leave of the young
 
 238 EUNICE SOMERS. 
 
 disciple, some of whose life lessons have filled 
 these humble pages. 
 
 If any of our readers would fain follow her 
 farther in her course, let them rest content 
 with the assurance, that, having sincerely com- 
 mitted her way unto the Lord, her song, even 
 to the end, will be the same : 
 
 " Though here and there some other lot 
 
 Than I had wished befell ; 
 Truth never failed, nor love forgot ; 
 All hath been wondrous well !"
 
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