to put
books on the shelves. Oh, that was no two years ago; it was yesterday,
this morning! Not a tone of his voice had escaped her memory. She had
only to think of the moment when he held his hand to her and said, 'Let
us be friends,' and her heart leaped now as it had leaped then. Could
not her passion reach him, wherever he was? Could he sleep peacefully
through nights which for her were one long anguish?

So it went on to winter, and now she had more rest; her brain was
dulled with the foul black atmosphere; she slept more, though a sleep
which seemed to weigh her down, an unhealthful torpor. The passion of
her misery had burned itself out.

Lydia came and spent Christmas Day with her. They talked of their
memories, and Thyrza asked questions about Gilbert Grail, as she had
several times done of late. Lydia had no very cheerful news to give of
him.

'Mrs. Grail can't do any work now. She sits by the fire all day, and at
night she won't let him do anything but talk to her. It isn't at all a
good servant they've got. She's expected to come at eight in the
morning, but it's almost always nine before she gets there.'

'Couldn't you find someone better, Lyddy?'

'I'm trying to, but it isn't easy. I do what I can myself. Mrs. Grail
sometimes seems as if she doesn't like me to come about. She wouldn't
speak to me this morning; I'm sure I don't know why. She's changed a
great deal from what she was when you knew her. And she can't bear to
have things moved in the room for cleaning; she gets angry with the
servant about it, and then the girl talks to her as she shouldn't, and
it makes her cry.'

'Is she impatient with Gilbert?' Thyrza asked.

'No, I don't think so. But she always wants him to be by her. If he's a
few minutes late, she knows it, and begins to fret and worry.'

'So he sits all the evening just keeping her company?'

'Yes. He reads to her a good deal, generally out of those religious
books--you remember? I feel sorry for her; I'm so sure there's other
things he might read would give her a deal more comfort. And you'd
think he never got a bit tired, he's that kind and good to her, Thyrza.'

'Yes, I know he must be. Does Mr. Ackroyd ever come to see him?'

'Not to the house, no. Nobody comes.'

Thyrza was very silent after this.

Two weeks later, when the new year was frost-bound, Lydia received this
letter from her sister.

'I want to come and see you in the old room, as I said I should, and