He never went out in the evening now, and only twice to the House, when his vote was more than usually important; but Mrs. Evelyn was taking Sydney into society, and the shrinking Esther needed a chaperon much more, being so little aware of her own beauty, that she was wont to think something amiss with her hair or her dress when she saw people looking at her.
Sydney had no love for the gaieties, and especially tried to avoid their own county member, who showed signs of pursuing her. Her real delight and enthusiasm were for the surprise parties, to which she always inveigled her mother when it was possible. Mrs. Evelyn was not by any means unwilling, but Cecil and Esther loved them not, and much preferred seeing the Collingwood Street cousins without the throng of clever people, who were formidable to Esther, and wearisome to Cecil.
Jock seldom appeared on these evenings. He was working harder than ever. He was studying a new branch of his profession, which he had meant to delay for another year, and had an appointment at the hospital which occupied him a great deal. He had offered himself for another night-school class, and spent his remaining leisure on Dr. and Mrs. Lucas, who needed his attention greatly, though Mrs. Lucas had her scruples, feared that he was overdoing himself, and begged his mother to prohibit some of his exertions. Dr. Medlicott himself said something of the same kind to Mrs. Brownlow. “Young men will get into a rush, and suffer for it afterwards,” he said, “and Jock is looking ill and overstrained. I want him to remember that such an illness as he had in Switzerland does not leave a man’s heart quite as sound as before, and he must not overwork himself.”
“And yet I don’t know how to interfere,” said his mother. “There are hearts and hearts, you know,” she added.
“Ah! Work may sometimes be the least of two evils,” and the doctor said no more.
“So Jock will not come,” said Mrs. Evelyn, opening a note declining a dinner in Cavendish Square.
“His time is very much taken up,” said his mother. “It is one of his class-nights.”
“So he says. It is a strange question to ask, but I cannot help it. Do you think he fully enters into the situation?”
“I say in return, Do you remember my telling you that the two cousins always avoided rivalry?”
“Then he acts deliberately. Forgive me; I felt that unless I was certain of this virtual resignation of the unspoken hope, I was not acting fairly in allowing—I cannot say encouraging—what I cannot help seeing.”