"That's right. I am proud of my girl. Now sit up, and be brave. No, don't stand. I'll be tea-maker for once. You want something to eat."
"Oh, I can't!"
"You must. It will do nobody any particular good for you to starve yourself."
The essential common-sense of the remark was so like what she herself might have said to another, that Jean almost smiled. She was placed by Mr. Trevelyan in his deep arm-chair, made to lean back, and supplied with necessaries—nay, finding how she trembled, he even held the full cup to her lips. Though the first few mouthfuls threatened to choke her, a different state of things speedily followed. The inward shuddering grew less; and she was at length able to say with some degree of composure—
"Father, you don't think Evelyn will miss me when she wakes?"
"I don't know, my dear," he answered, too truthful to deny the possibility. "I only know that no choice was left to us. Miss Devereux has the rights of kinship; and we have only the rights of friendship. After all, the matter is in Mrs. Villiers' own hands. If she chooses, she can dismiss Miss Devereux and send for you."
"And if she does—"
"Then she shall have you."
Jean went to bed, more satisfied. Sleep seemed impossible, but she was young and healthy, and she had gone through severe exertion. Strange to say, the last impression on her mind, as she passed into dreamland, was not of the ghastly scene upon the marshes, but of her father's arm around her.
"O, I do love him!" she half unconsciously murmured.