at
the same time I want to see Gilbert. But I must see him alone. I could
come at night, and you could be at the door to let me in, couldn't you,
dear? You said that Mrs. Grail goes to bed early; I could see Gilbert
after that. You may tell him that I am coming, and ask him if he will
see me. I hope he won't refuse. Write and let me know when I shall be
at the door--to-morrow night, if possible. You will be able to send a
letter that I shall get by the first post in the morning.'

Had the visit proposed been a secret one, to herself alone, Lydia would
not have been much surprised, as Thyrza had several times of late said
that she wished to come. But the desire to see Gilbert was something of
which no hint had been given till now. Strange fancies ran through her
head. She doubted so much on the subject, that she resolved to say
nothing to Gilbert; if Thyrza persisted in her wish, it would be
possible to arrange the interview when she was in the house. She wrote
in reply that she would be standing at the front door at half-past
eight on the following evening.

Exactly at the moment appointed, a closely-wrapped figure hurried
through the darkness out of Kennington Road to the door where Lydia had
been waiting for several minutes. The door was at once opened. Thyrza
ran silently up the stairs; her sister followed; and they stood
together in their old home.

Thyrza threw off her outer garments. She was panting from haste and
agitation; she fixed her eyes on Lydia, but neither spoke nor smiled.

'Are you sure you did right to come, dearest?' Lydia said in a low
voice.

'Yes, Lyddy, quite sure,' was the grave answer.

'You look worse to-night--you look ill, Thyrza.'

'No, no, I am quite well. I am glad to be here.'

Thyrza seated herself where she had been used to sit, by the fireside.
Lydia had made the room as bright as she could. But to Thyrza how bare
and comfortless it seemed! Here her sister had lived, whilst she
herself had had so many comforts about her, so many luxuries. That
poor, narrow bed--there she had slept with Lyddy; there, too, she had
longed vainly for sleep, and had shed her first tears of secret sorrow.
Nothing whatever seemed altered. But yes, there was something new;
above the bed's head hung on the wall a picture of a cross, with
flowers twined about it, and something written underneath. Noticing
that, Thyrza at once took her eyes away.

'It's a bitter night,' Lydia said, approaching her an