“Does she know, Eva? Do you ever hear from her now?”
“Yes, often—but do not think too much of those things just yet.”
“And Julian?”
“He has often come to ask after you,” she said blushing, “but he is afraid to see you, lest it should do you harm just now.”
“Perhaps he is right. We are not all enemies, then?”
“Enemies with Julian and Violet? Oh no.”
Though the engagement of Kennedy with Violet had been broken off by the common desire of Julian and Mr Kennedy, the two families still continued their affectionate intercourse, and bewailed the sad necessity which drove them to a step so painful, yet so unavoidably required by the welfare of all concerned. And from the first they hoped that all might yet be well, while some among them began to fancy that if Kennedy and Violet should ever be united, it would not be the only close bond between hearts already full of mutual affection.
So Julian still came daily during Kennedy’s illness to see Eva and Mr Kennedy, and to inquire after the sufferer’s health. And sometimes he took them for a walk in the grounds or the immediate neighbourhood of Camford, a place which they had never visited before, and which to them was full of interest.
Eva had often heard of the glories of Saint Werner’s chapel, and on the Sunday she asked Julian if it would be possible for her to go with her father to the evening service there.
“Oh yes,” said Julian; “certainly. I will get one of the Fellows to take you in. It is a remarkable sight, and I think you ought to go.”