Had it not been for the delight of Oswald's coming, Jean might have felt slightly flat. She had just heard that Cyril would only be at home for a week this Christmas.
"The dear boy had a cough," Miss Devereux said—anybody else would have called it "a scrape." And she meant to give him a few weeks at Bournemouth.
Lady Lucas had recommended change, and change was so good for a boy of his age. Perhaps in the summer she might take him abroad. Lady Lucas thought it would be a good plan. Even now, Sybella always wanted somebody else's opinion to bolster up her own.
Evelyn was alone in her boudoir when Jean entered, and there were traces of tears on her face. Jean asked no questions. It was not her way to show a solicitude which might be unwelcome. She pulled off her thick ulster, and sat down to talk about Oswald's coming.
Generally Evelyn liked to hear about Oswald, because it gave her pleasure to see the glowing sunshine in the sister's eyes, when his name was spoken; but to-day her attention wandered past control; and Jean soon dropped her own affairs, waiting in silence for Evelyn to take the initiative.
For a good while the silence lasted, unbroken. Evelyn was doing nothing, not even pretending to work. She only sat gazing into the fire with eyes which had their largest and saddest look. Jean had often seen her so before; and usually the mood would pass off in talk upon other matters. To-day she seemed unable to converse; and Jean, after waiting a reasonable time, took the initiative herself.
"Has something worried you very much?" she asked, in her direct serious style.
"The Atherstones have been here to lunch."
"Yes." Jean knew that they were not favourites with Evelyn; and she could not wonder.
Since the Colonel in public and in private systematically opposed and abused Mr. Trevelyan, it was not surprising that Jean disliked him. Mr. Trevelyan could afford to smile with grim unconcern: but naturally his daughter felt for him.