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"I think, rather, of the trials life may bring, Victoria," he answered, "of the hours when judgment halts, when the way is not clear. Do you remember the last night you came to Jabe Jenney's? I stood in the road long after you had gone, and a desolation such as I had never known came over me. I went in at last, and opened a book to some verses I had been reading, which I shall never forget.
Fitch insisted upon untying the horse, while Victoria renewed her promises to the children. There were two ways of going back to Fairview, a long and a short way, and the long way led by Jabe Jenney's farm. Victoria came to the fork in the road, paused, and took the long way.
You probably remember him in that Meader case, he isn't a man one would be likely to forget, and I know that this quarrel with his father isn't of Austen's seeking." "Oughtn't he to be told at once?" said Victoria. "Yes," said the doctor; "time is valuable, and we can't predict what Hilary will do. At any rate, Austen ought to know but the trouble is, he's at Jenney's farm.
And he went out, and across to the stable to harness Pepper. Austen did not believe Euphrasia. On that eventful evening when Victoria had called at Jabe Jenney's, the world's aspect had suddenly changed for him; old values had faded, values which, after all, had been but tints and glows, and sterner but truer colours took their places.
And to Austen, in the twilight in front of Jabe Jenney's, the affair might well have assumed the proportions of an intimacy of long standing rather than that of the chance acquaintance of an hour. Friends in common, modes of life in common, and incidents in common are apt to sweep away preliminaries.
He rang the stable-bell, and as he waited for an answer to his summons, the sense of his remoteness from these surroundings of hers deepened, and with a touch of inevitable humour he recalled the low-ceiled bedroom at Mr. Jenney's and the kitchen in Hanover Street; the annual cost of the care of that lawn and driveway might well have maintained one of these households.
Austen had not forgotten his promise to Euphrasia, and he had gone to Hanover Street many times since his sojourn at Mr. Jabe Jenney's. Usually these visits had taken place in the middle of the day, when Euphrasia, with gentle but determined insistence, had made him sit down before some morsel which she had prepared against his coming, and which he had not the heart to refuse.
Jenney's ancestors, which Victoria and other people had often paused on their drives to admire, and on the hillside was a little, old-fashioned flower garden; lilacs clustered about the small-paned windows, and a bitter-sweet clung to the roof and pillars of the porch.
Jabe Jenney, being a person of importance in the town of Leith, had a house commensurate with his estate. The house was not large, but its dignity was akin to Mr. Jenney's position: it was painted a spotless white, and not a shingle or a nail was out of place. Before it stood the great trees planted by Mr.
Fitch insisted upon untying the horse, while Victoria renewed her promises to the children. There were two ways of going back to Fairview, a long and a short way, and the long way led by Jabe Jenney's farm. Victoria came to the fork in the road, paused, and took the long way.
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