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she fed her hungry soul with these husks of comfort.

When she heard Christopherā€™s step she moved about quickly to get a light. He frowned when he saw her; he had always resented her sitting up for him. He sat down by the stove and took off his boots, while Eunice got a lunch for him. After he had eaten it in silence he made no move to go to bed. A chill, premonitory fear crept over Eunice. It did not surprise her at all when Christopher finally said, abruptly, ā€œEunice, Iā€™ve a notion to get married this spring.ā€

Eunice clasped her hands together under the table. It was what she had been expecting. She said so, in a monotonous voice.

ā€œWe must make some arrangement forā€”for you, Eunice,ā€ Christopher went on, in a hurried, hesitant way, keeping his eyes riveted doggedly on his plate. ā€œVictoria doesnā€™t exactly likeā€”well, she thinks itā€™s better for young married folks to begin life by themselves, and I guess sheā€™s about right. You wouldnā€™t find it comfortable, anyhow, having to step back to second place after being mistress here so long.ā€

Eunice tried to speak, but only an indistinct murmur came from her bloodless lips. The sound made Christopher look up. Something in her face irritated him. He pushed back his chair impatiently.

ā€œNow, Eunice, donā€™t go taking on. It wonā€™t be any use. Look at this business in a sensible way. Iā€™m fond of you, and all that, but a man is bound to consider his wife first. Iā€™ll provide for you comfortably.ā€

ā€œDo you mean to say that your wife is going to turn me out?ā€ Eunice gasped, rather than spoke, the words.

Christopher drew his reddish brows together.

ā€œI just mean that Victoria says she wonā€™t marry me if she has to live with you. Sheā€™s afraid of you. I told her you wouldnā€™t interfere with her, but she wasnā€™t satisfied. Itā€™s your own fault, Eunice. Youā€™ve always been so queer and close that people think youā€™re an awful crank. Victoriaā€™s young and lively, and you and she wouldnā€™t get on at all. There isnā€™t any question of turning you out. Iā€™ll build a little house for you somewhere, and youā€™ll be a great deal better off there than you would be here. So donā€™t make a fuss.ā€

Eunice did not look as if she were going to make a fuss. She sat as if turned to stone, her hands lying palm upward in her lap. Christopher got up, hugely relieved that the dreaded explanation was over.

ā€œGuess Iā€™ll go to bed. Youā€™d better have gone long ago. Itā€™s all nonsense, this waiting up for me.ā€

When he had gone Eunice drew a long, sobbing breath and looked about her like a dazed soul. All the sorrow of her life was as nothing to the desolation that assailed her now.

She rose and, with uncertain footsteps, passed out through the hall and into the room where her mother died. She had always kept it locked and undisturbed; it was arranged just as Naomi Holland had left it. Eunice tottered to the bed and sat down on it.

She recalled the promise she had made to her mother in that very room. Was the power to keep it to be wrested from her? Was she to be driven from her home and parted from the only creature she had on earth to love? And would Christopher allow it, after all her sacrifices for him? Aye, that he would! He cared more for that black-eyed, waxen-faced girl at the old Pye place than for his own kin. Eunice put her hands over her dry, burning eyes and groaned aloud.

 

Caroline Holland had her hour of triumph over Eunice when she heard it all. To one of her nature there was no pleasure so sweet as that of saying, ā€œI told you so.ā€ Having said it, however, she offered Eunice a home. Electa Holland was dead, and Eunice might fill her place very acceptably, if she would.

ā€œYou canā€™t go off and live by yourself,ā€ Caroline told her. ā€œItā€™s all nonsense to talk of such a thing. We will give you a home, if Christopher is going to turn you out. You were always a fool, Eunice, to pet and pamper him as youā€™ve done. This is the thanks you get for itā€”turned out like a dog for his fine wifeā€™s whim! I only wish your mother was alive!ā€

It was probably the first time Caroline had ever wished this. She had flown at Christopher like a fury about the matter, and had been rudely insulted for her pains. Christopher had told her to mind her own business.

When Caroline cooled down she made some arrangements with him, to all of which Eunice listlessly assented. She did not care what became of her. When Christopher Holland brought Victoria as mistress to the house where his mother had toiled, and suffered, and ruled with her rod of iron, Eunice was gone. In Charles Hollandā€™s household she took Electaā€™s placeā€”an unpaid upper servant.

Charles and Caroline were kind enough to her, and there was plenty to do. For five years her dull, colorless life went on, during which time she never crossed the threshold of the house where Victoria Holland ruled with a sway as absolute as Naomiā€™s had been. Carolineā€™s curiosity led her, after her first anger had cooled, to make occasional calls, the observations of which she faithfully reported to Eunice. The latter never betrayed any interest in them, save once. This was when Caroline came home full of the news that Victoria had had the room where Naomi died opened up, and showily furnished as a parlor. Then Euniceā€™s sallow face crimsoned, and her eyes flashed, over the desecration. But no word of comment or complaint ever crossed her lips.

She knew, as every one else knew, that the glamor soon went from Christopher Hollandā€™s married life. The marriage proved an unhappy one. Not unnaturally, although unjustly, Eunice blamed Victoria for this, and hated her more than ever for it.

Christopher seldom came to Charlesā€™ house. Possibly he felt ashamed. He had grown into a morose, silent man, at home and abroad. It was said he had gone back to his old drinking habits.

One fall Victoria Holland went to town to visit her married sister. She took their only child with her. In her absence Christopher kept house for himself.

It was a fall long remembered in Avonlea. With the dropping of the leaves, and the shortening of the dreary days, the shadow of a fear fell over the land. Charles Holland brought the fateful news home one night.

ā€œThereā€™s smallpox in Charlottetownā€”five or six cases. Came in one of the vessels. There was a concert, and a sailor from one of the ships was there, and took sick the next day.ā€

This was alarming enough. Charlottetown was not so very far away and considerable traffic went on between it and the north shore districts.

When Caroline recounted the concert story to Christopher the next morning his ruddy face turned quite pale. He opened his lips as if to speak, then closed them again. They were sitting in the kitchen; Caroline had run over to return some tea she had borrowed, and, incidentally, to see what she could of Victoriaā€™s housekeeping in her absence. Her eyes had been busy while her tongue ran on, so she did not notice the manā€™s pallor and silence.

ā€œHow long does it take for smallpox to develop after one has been exposed to it?ā€ he asked abruptly, when Caroline rose to go.

ā€œTen to fourteen days, I calcā€™late,ā€ was her answer. ā€œI must see about having the girls vaccinated right off. Itā€™ll likely spread. When do you expect Victoria home?ā€

ā€œWhen sheā€™s ready to come, whenever that will be,ā€ was the gruff response.

A week later Caroline said to Eunice, ā€œWhateverā€™s got Christopher? He hasnā€™t been out anywhere for agesā€”just hangs round home the whole time. Itā€™s something new for him. I sā€™pose the place is so quiet, now Madam Victoriaā€™s away, that he can find some rest for his soul. I believe Iā€™ll run over after milking and see how heā€™s getting on. You might as well come, too, Eunice.ā€

Eunice shook her head. She had all her motherā€™s obstinacy, and darken Victoriaā€™s door she would not. She went on patiently darning socks, sitting at the west window, which was her favorite positionā€”perhaps because she could look from it across the sloping field and past the crescent curve of maple grove to her lost home.

After milking, Caroline threw a shawl over her head and ran across the field. The house looked lonely and deserted. As she fumbled at the latch of the gate the kitchen door opened, and Christopher Holland appeared on the threshold.

ā€œDonā€™t come any farther,ā€ he called.

Caroline fell back in blank astonishment. Was this some more of Victoriaā€™s work?

ā€œI ainā€™t an agent for the smallpox,ā€ she called back viciously.

Christopher did not heed her.

ā€œWill you go home and ask uncle if heā€™ll go, or send for Doctor Spencer? Heā€™s the smallpox doctor. Iā€™m sick.ā€

Caroline felt a thrill of dismay and fear. She faltered a few steps backward.

ā€œSick? Whatā€™s the matter with you?ā€

ā€œI was in Charlottetown that night, and went to the concert. That sailor sat right beside me. I thought at the time he looked sick. It was just twelve days ago. Iā€™ve felt bad all day yesterday and to-day. Send for the doctor. Donā€™t come near the house, or let any one else come near.ā€

He went in and shut the door. Caroline stood for a few moments in an almost ludicrous panic. Then she turned and ran, as if for her life, across the field. Eunice saw her coming and met her at the door.

ā€œMercy on us!ā€ gasped Caroline. ā€œChristopherā€™s sick and he thinks heā€™s got the smallpox. Whereā€™s Charles?ā€

Eunice tottered back against the door. Her hand went up to her side in a way that had been getting very common with her of late. Even in the midst of her excitement Caroline noticed it.

ā€œEunice, what makes you do that every time anything startles you?ā€ she asked sharply. ā€œIs it anything about your heart?ā€

ā€œI donā€™tā€”know. A little painā€”itā€™s gone now. Did you say that Christopher hasā€”the smallpox?ā€

ā€œWell, he says so himself, and itā€™s more than likely, considering the circumstances. I declare, I never got such a turn in my life. Itā€™s a dreadful thing. I must find Charles at onceā€”thereā€™ll be a hundred things to do.ā€

Eunice hardly heard her. Her mind was centered upon one idea. Christopher was illā€”aloneā€”she must go to him. It did not matter what his disease was. When Caroline came in from her breathless expedition to the barn, she found Eunice standing by the table, with her hat and shawl on, tying up a parcel.

ā€œEunice! Where on earth are you going?ā€

ā€œOver home,ā€ said Eunice. ā€œIf Christopher is going to be ill he must be nursed, and Iā€™m the one to do it. He ought to be seen to right away.ā€

ā€œEunice Carr! Have you gone clean out of your senses? Itā€™s the smallpoxā€”the smallpox! If heā€™s got it heā€™ll have to be taken to the smallpox hospital in town. You shanā€™t stir a step to go to that house!ā€

ā€œI will.ā€ Eunice faced her excited aunt quietly. The odd resemblance to her mother, which only came out in moments of great tension, was plainly visible. ā€œHe shanā€™t go to the hospitalā€”they never get proper attention there. You neednā€™t try to stop me. It wonā€™t put you or your family in any danger.ā€

Caroline fell helplessly into a chair. She felt that it would be of no use to argue with a woman so determined. She wished Charles was there. But Charles had already gone, post-haste, for the doctor.

With a

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