Electa Holland was Charles' unmarried sister. She had
kept house for Benjamin until he married; then Naomi
had bundled her out. Electa had never forgiven her for
it. Her hatred passed on to Naomi's children. In a
hundred petty ways she revenged herself on them. For
herself, Eunice bore it patiently; but it was a
different matter when it touched Christopher.
Once Electa boxed Christopher's ears. Eunice, who was
knitting by the table, stood up. A resemblance to her
mother, never before visible, came out in her face like
a brand. She lifted her hand and slapped Electa's cheek
deliberately twice, leaving a dull red mark where she
struck.
"If you ever strike my brother again," she said, slowly
and vindictively, "I will slap your face every time you
do. You have no right to touch him."
"My patience, what a fury!" said Electa. "Naomi
Holland'll never be dead as long as you're alive!"
She told Charles of the affair and Eunice was severely
punished. But Electa never interfered with Christopher
again.
All the discordant elements in the Holland household
could not prevent the children from growing up. It was
a consummation which the harrassed Caroline devoutly
wished. When Christopher Holland was seventeen he was a
man grown - a big, strapping fellow. His childish
beauty had coarsened, but he was thought handsome by
many.
He took charge of his mother's farm then, and the
brother and sister began their new life together in the
long-unoccupied house. There were few regrets on either
side when they left Charles Holland's roof. In her
secret heart Eunice felt an unspeakable relief.
Christopher had been "hard to manage," as his uncle
said, in the last year. He was getting into the habit
of keeping late hours and doubtful company. This always
provoked an explosion of wrath from Charles Holland,
and the conflicts between him and his nephew were
frequent and bitter.
For four years after their return home Eunice had a
hard and anxious life. Christopher was idle and
dissipated. Most people regarded him as a worthless
fellow, and his uncle washed his hands of him utterly.
Only Eunice never failed him; she never reproached or
railed; she worked like a slave to keep things
together. Eventually her patience prevailed.
Christopher, to a great extent, reformed and worked
harder. He was never unkind to Eunice, even in his
rages. It was not in him to appreciate or return her
devotion; but his tolerant acceptance of it was her
solace.
When Eunice was twenty-eight, Edward Bell wanted to
marry her. He was a plain, middle-aged widower with
four children; but, as Caroline did not fail to remind
her, Eunice herself was not for every market, and the
former did her best to make the match. She might have
succeeded had it not been for Christopher. When he, in
spite of Caroline's skillful management, got an inkling
of what was going on, he flew into a true Holland rage.
If Eunice married and left him - he would sell the farm
and go to the Devil by way of the Klondike. He could
not, and would not, do without her. No arrangement
suggested by Caroline availed to pacify him, and, in
the end, Eunice refused to marry Edward Bell. She could
not leave Christopher, she said simply, and in this she
stood rock-firm. Caroline could not budge her an inch.
"You're a fool, Eunice," she said, when she was obliged
to give up in despair. "It's not likely you'll ever
have another chance. As for Chris, in a year or two
he'll be marrying himself, and where will you be then?
You'll find your nose nicely out of joint when he
brings a wife in here."
The shaft went home. Eunice's lips turned white. But
she said, faintly, "The house is big enough for us
both, if he does."
Caroline sniffed.
"Maybe so. You'll find out. However, there's no use
talking. You're as set as your mother was, and nothing
would ever budge her an inch. I only hope you won't be
sorry for it."
When three more years had passed Christopher began to
court Victoria Pye. The affair went on for some time
before either Eunice or the Hollands go wind of it.
When they did there was an explosion. Between the
Hollands and the Pyes, root and branch, existed a feud
that dated back for three generations. That the
original cause of the quarrel was totally forgotten did
not matter; it was matter of family pride that a
Holland should have no dealings with a Pye.
When Christopher flew so openly in the face of this
cherished hatred, there could be nothing less than
consternation. Charles Holland broke through his
determination to have nothing to do with Christopher,
to remonstrate. Caroline went to Eunice in as much of a
splutter as if Christopher had been her own brother.
Eunice did not care a row of pins for the Holland-Pye
feud. Victoria was to her what any other girl, upon
whom Christopher cast eyes of love, would have been - a
supplanter. For the first time in her life she was torn
with passionate jealousy; existence became a nightmare
to her. Urged on by Caroline, and her own pain, she
ventured to remonstrate with Christopher, also. She had
expected a burst of rage, but he was surprisingly good-
natured. He seemed even amused.
"What have you got against Victoria?" he asked,
tolerantly.
Eunice had no answer ready. It was true that nothing
could be said against the girl. She felt helpless and
baffled. Christopher laughed at her silence.
"I guess you're a little jealous," he said. "You must
have expected I would get married some time. This house
is big enough for us all. You'd better look at the
matter sensibly, Eunice. Don't let Charles and Caroline
put nonsense into your head. A man must marry to please
himself."
Christopher was out late that night. Eunice waited up
for him, as she always did. It was a chilly spring
evening, reminding her of the night her mother had
died. The kitchen was in spotless order, and she sat
down on a stiff-backed chair by the window to wait for
her brother.
She did not want a light. The moonlight fell in with
faint illumination. Outside, the wind was blowing over
a bed of new-sprung mint in the garden, and was
suggestively fragrant. It was a very old-fashioned
garden, full of perennials Naomi Holland had planted
long ago. Eunice always kept it primly neat. She had
been working in it that day, and felt tired.
She was all alone in the house and the loneliness
filled her with a faint dread. She had tried all that
day to reconcile herself to Christopher's marriage,
and
had partially succeeded. She told herself that she
could still watch over him and care for his comfort.
She would even try to love Victoria; after all, it
might be pleasant to have another woman in the house.
So, sitting there, she fed her hungry soul with these
husks of comfort.
When she heard Christopher'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, "Eunice, I've a
notion to get married this spring."
Eunice clasped her hands together under the table. It
was what she had been expecting. She said so, in a
monotonous voice.
"We must make some arrangement for - for you, Eunice,"
Christopher went on, in a hurried, hesitant way,
keeping his eyes riveted doggedly on his plate.
"Victoria doesn't exactly like - well, she thinks it's
better for young married folks to begin life by
themselves, and I guess she's about right. You wouldn't
find it comfortable, anyhow, having to step back to
second place after being mistress here so long."
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.
"Now, Eunice, don't go taking on. It won't be any use.
Look at this business in a sensible way. I'm fond of
you, and all that, but a man is bound to consider his
wife first. I'll provide for you comfortably."
"Do you mean to say that your wife is going to turn me
out?" Eunice gasped, rather than spoke, the words.
Christopher drew his reddish brows together.
"I just mean that Victoria says she won't marry me if
she has to live with you. She's afraid of you. I told
her you wouldn't interfere with her, but she wasn't
satisfied. It's your own fault, Eunice. You've always
been so queer and close that people think you're an
awful crank. Victoria's young and lively, and you and
she wouldn't get on at all. There isn't any question of
turning you out. I'll build a little house for you
somewhere, and you'll be a great deal better off there
than you would be here. So don't make a fuss."
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.
"Guess I'll go to bed. You'd better have gone long ago.
It's all nonsense, this waiting up for me."
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, "I told you
so." Having said it, however, she offered Eunice a
home. Electa Holland was dead, and Eunice might fill
her place very acceptably, if she would.
"You can't go off and live by yourself," Caroline told
her. "It'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 you've done. This is the thanks you get
for it - turned out like a dog for his fine wife's
whim! I only wish your mother was alive!"
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 Holland's
household she took Electa's place - 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 Naomi's had been. Caroline'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 Eunice'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 Holland'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 Charles' 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.
"There's smallpox in Charlottetown - five o
r 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."
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
Victoria's housekeeping in her absence. Her eyes had
been busy while her tongue ran on, so she did not
notice the man's pallor and silence.
"How long does it take for smallpox to develop after
one has been exposed to it?" he asked abruptly, when
Caroline rose to go.
"Ten to fourteen days, I calc'late," was her answer. "I
must see about having the girls vaccinated right off.
It'll likely spread. When do you expect Victoria home?"
"When she's ready to come, whenever that will be," was
the gruff response.
A week later Caroline said to Eunice, "Whatever's got
Christopher? He hasn't been out anywhere for ages -
just hangs round home the whole time. It's something
new for him. I s'pose the place is so quiet, now Madam
Victoria's away, that he can find some rest for his
soul. I believe I'll run over after milking and see how
he's getting on. You might as well come, too, Eunice."
Eunice shook her head. She had all her mother's
obstinacy, and darken Victoria's door she would not.
She went on patiently darning socks, sitting at the
west window, which was her favorite position - 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.
"Don't come any farther," he called.
Caroline fell back in blank astonishment. Was this some
more of Victoria's work?
"I ain't an agent for the smallpox," she called back
viciously.
Christopher did not heed her.
"Will you go home and ask uncle if he'll go, or send
for Doctor Spencer? He's the smallpox doctor. I'm
sick."
Caroline felt a thrill of dismay and fear. She faltered
a few steps backward.
"Sick? What's the matter with you?"
"I 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.
I've felt bad all day yesterday and to-day. Send for
the doctor. Don't come near the house, or let any one
else come near."
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.
"Mercy on us!" gasped Caroline. "Christopher's sick and
he thinks he's got the smallpox. Where's Charles?"
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.
"Eunice, what makes you do that every time anything
startles you?" she asked sharply. "Is it anything about
your heart?"
"I don't - know. A little pain - it's gone now. Did you
say that Christopher has - the smallpox?"
"Well, he says so himself, and it's more than likely,
considering the circumstances. I declare, I never got
such a turn in my life. It's a dreadful thing. I must
find Charles at once - there'll be a hundred things to
do."
Eunice hardly heard her. Her mind was centered upon one
idea. Christopher was ill - alone - 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