CHAPTER VII.—STAYING TO DINNER.
Again at luncheon that day Evelyn was missing. Lady Frances looked round: Audrey was in her place; Miss Sinclair was seated not far away; the Squire took the foot of the table; the servants handed round the different dishes; but still no Evelyn had put in an appearance.
“I wonder where she can be,” said the Squire. “She looked a little wild and upset when she left me. Poor little girl! Do you know, Frances, I feel very sorry for her.”
“More than I do,” said Lady Frances, who at the same time had an uncomfortable remembrance of the look Evelyn had given her when she had left her presence. “Don’t let us talk any more about her now, Edward,” she said to her husband. “There is only one thing to be done for the child, and that I will tell you by and by.”
The Squire was accustomed to attend to his wife’s wishes on all occasions, and he said nothing further. Audrey felt constrained and uncomfortable. After a slight hesitation she said:
“Do let me find Evelyn, mother. I have been expecting her to join me the whole morning. She does not, of course, know about our rules yet.”
“No, Audrey,” said her mother; “I prefer that you should not leave the table.—Miss Sinclair, perhaps you will oblige me. Will you go to Evelyn’s room and tell her that we are at lunch?”
Miss Sinclair rose at once. She was absent for about five minutes. When she came back there was a distressed look on her face.
“Well, Jenny, well?” said Audrey in a voice of suppressed excitement. “Is she coming?”
“I think not,” said Miss Sinclair.—“I will explain matters to you, Lady Frances, afterwards.”