There was at once, almost unconsciously on Evelyn's part, a slight drawing back from the Trevelyans; too slight to be noted by outsiders, too decided not to be noted by themselves. She was the same in manner when they met, but she did not press for frequent visits from Mr. Trevelyan or Jean. They did not speak of it, one to another, but both alike ceased to go often to the Park, waiting for renewed invitations to do so; which invitations did not come. Evelyn had sent for Mr. Kennedy after the funeral; and thenceforward, she was perceived no more within the walls of Dulveriford Church. Had not her husband always wished her to attend only St. John's?
The St. John's people were greatly touched to see the fair young widow, with her sad face and voluminous crape, seated in the chancel, having the General's empty chair beside her. Mr. Kennedy took care to supply no end of mournful hymns and sorrowful sermons, as particularly suited to a widow's frame of mind, forgetting, good man, in his sympathy with her, that the entire congregation did not consist of widows. When she came gliding out of Church at the end of the Service, half the elderly ladies present, widows or no, would have liked to press forward and sympathetically squeeze the hand of Mrs. Villiers of Dutton Park. But Evelyn had the art of keeping people at a distance; and few actually ventured. Those who tried it once were so distinctly bowed aside that they did not try it a second time; yet poor Evelyn took herself to task afterwards; for were they not his friends?
It might have been expected that Cyril would come home earlier than usual, on account of his sister's trouble; and indeed he was actually sent for to the funeral. Only two days before, however, mild scarlatina broke out in the school, and Cyril was among the first victims to the attack. Sybella, in dire alarm, announced that she could neither have him at the Brow, nor meet him anywhere else these holidays—self being as usual her first thought. It was quite impossible that she should be exposed to infection! Somebody else might undertake Cyril—or Cyril could remain at school!
"Then as soon as it is counted right for him to travel, I shall have him to stay with me at the seaside," Evelyn said, hardly caring to veil her contempt for the other's puny self-regard.
"Jean, what do you think of this?" asked her father, three or four days after Christmas.
He was alone with her in the morning-room.
"This" meant a letter from Oswald, which he handed to Jean, and she read it slowly, concealing what she felt. The one delight in prospect had been Oswald's New Year visit, and now he wished not to come. He had an invitation from a friend in Town, and the house was one where there would be "lots of fun." It would be "awfully nice;" and he knew they would not mind his going "just this time." The very next leave he could get, he would be sure to come home.
"Well, Jean?"
"He wants it very much. May he, father?"
"You will not be too direfully disappointed?"