Jem did not at once reply. He had seldom passed through a sharper ordeal than this interview. The whole force of his powerful will was needed to restrain the rush of feeling, aroused by her look of sorrow, to hold back words and looks which must have revealed his love. He had long ceased to ask whether or no he loved Evelyn. He knew only too well that he never had loved, and never could love, any other woman. Hitherto he had not shown his love; nor did he now: though to hide it at such a moment, to keep up a merely kind and interested manner, taxed his self-control to the utmost. If Evelyn had never seen him so pale, she had also never seen him more composed—in feature; but the struggle brought on trembling; and Jem was thankful when Evelyn sat down, so that he might do the same.
"You will help me, will you not?" she went on earnestly. "Jean must not know yet. If the loss has to be borne, she will bear it; only we must spare her the uncertainty. You will send a telegram, of course, to Melbourne, to know if they started."
Jem signified assent.
"I suppose the answer will hardly arrive for a day or two; and you could forward it at once to Rouen. Jean will be out of reach there of gossip. Will you help me to arrange things? I am not very well, and a little trip abroad might be expected to do me good. Don't you think so? Look—" and she held out her hand—"you see how thin I have grown. Jean noticed that; and you can say that I need a change. Say anything you like, only make her come with me to-morrow. She will understand the need not to put off, if we go at all."
Jem took in his own the offered hand, and viewed critically the frail fingers, as Jean had done.
Evelyn became aware of his trembling; and it seemed to her not quite consistent with her theory of Jem's inviolable composure. A momentary feeling of surprise was created.
But the next instant, he dropped her hand, saying—
"Yes, you are much too thin."
"And you will help me?"
"If I can do anything. I should be glad to spare Jean."