Evelyn sighed. "I wish I had not let him go. Suppose he takes a bad chill?"
"But why should one expect it?"
"I don't know. I have had such a feeling this afternoon of some trouble ahead. Do you know what that is? It comes sometimes and lasts for hours, and nothing happens, and then I laugh at myself; but when it comes again I am frightened. I never felt so when I was a girl—only the last two or three years. It was that which made me beg my husband's pardon just now—a kind of dread. I had worried him, and he is so kind and good. When he held me in his arms, I kept thinking, 'Suppose he should never hold me so again?' Why does one have such fancies? I often do, and they lead to nothing—but they might."
"If one is always expecting trouble, one is sure to be in the right some day, because troubles do come sooner or later," said Jean, with severe common-sense.
"That is so like you," Evelyn said, with a sad smile. "But one can hardly reason away such feelings. I suppose they are partly physical—when one is not very strong. I wish he were safe back. Jean, I think we will go to the library. Walters will bring tea there presently. You don't mind staying with me a little longer? The snow seems getting very thick—but I feel as if could not bear to be alone. You won't leave me yet?"
"O no: and I don't mind any amount of snow," Jean could truly answer.
Two hours passed, and Jean was still at the Park, for she could not quit Evelyn. General Villiers remained absent, and Jean had resolved to wait till he should appear.
Not that there was the slightest cause for anxiety, she told herself. Though the wind howled, and the snow fell heavily, it was not a storm of exceptional violence; and though the General was an elderly man for his years, he could be counted well up to a four or five miles' walk.
Jean did not stay on the General's account, but for Evelyn's sake. They had had their tea long since, and Evelyn had walked up and down the library, as a vent to her restlessness, till strength failed. She was leaning back now in an easy-chair, every muscle in her fair face tense with suppressed agitation. She seemed equally unable to endure conversation and silence.
"Sit close to me," she whispered, if the girl moved. "Jean, let me feel you close!" came repeatedly; yet when Jean spoke, she hardly responded.