“But you are not really strong yet,” said her mother. “And if you do anything foolish out of a kind of bravado, you may really lay yourself up, and think how disagreeable that would be!”
Philippa, who was present, glanced at her sister. She was certainly looking more fragile than usual. The excitement, and, to a certain extent, fatigue of the last few days were telling upon her, and a feeling of additional anxiety came upon the younger girl.
“I shall really not be a bit surprised at anything that happens,” she said, in a tone of annoyance. “You are quite right, mamma, and I wish you would frighten Evelyn well. She is sometimes as silly about herself as if she were no older than Vanda,” and the laugh with which Mrs Headfort treated this remonstrance was by no means reassuring.
This conversation took place on Tuesday—Friday was the day fixed for Evelyn’s journey. Late on Thursday evening Mrs Raynsworth and her eldest daughter were sitting alone in the drawing-room, or, to be more exact, Evelyn was lying on a couch while her mother sat beside her.
“Don’t look so worried, mamma dear,” said the younger woman. “I really am better; I don’t think there is actually much the matter with me; I have just overtired myself a little. I shall be all right once I start to-morrow.”
“It is your going alone,” said Mrs Raynsworth, despondently.
Evelyn stroked her mother’s hand.
“How funny you are!” she said; “you didn’t mind it half so much at first as Philippa did, and now she says nothing more about it, and you have begun to worry yourself. But as for Philippa, where can she be? I’ve scarcely seen her to-day.”
“She was out for some time this afternoon,” said Mrs Raynsworth. “I was rather surprised at it, for she knows I am uneasy about you.”
As she spoke, the door opened and her younger daughter entered.