"You have had an unpleasant voyage."
"Very," Jean said, with sufficient brevity, as she walked by his side.
"Mr. Trevelyan asked me to inform you that news has come from abroad—good news."
"A telegram!"
"That—and more!"
"My father—and—"
"They did not go in the unfortunate 'Spanish Gipsy.' There was a change of plans just at last. Both are safe and well . . . I think you had better take my arm."
For a moment, Jean was rather near loss of consciousness. Long suspense and want of sleep had told upon her; but with a determined effort she rallied, after her father's fashion.
"Thanks—no need. You are sure—quite sure?"
"Perfectly. There can be no mistake. They did take their passage in the 'Spanish Gipsy;' but soon afterwards, they managed to get off—at some little sacrifice of money. The fact is, Sir Cyril had not patience. He was anxious to get home; and the long voyage meant too much delay. They would not write word of this change, thinking that it would make a pleasant surprise; and they have come straight by Suez."