e terrible. But Totty had a kind heart, and would keep the secret,
perchance could advise in some way. Though what advice could anyone
give?

What voice was that? She had heard someone knock at Bunce's door, then
heard Bunce go down. He was coming up again, and someone with
him--someone who spoke in a voice which made her heart leap. She sprang
to the door to listen. Bunce and his companion entered the opposite
room, and shut themselves in. Thyrza opened her door as softly as
possible, leaned forward, listened. Yes, it was _his_ voice!

What was he doing here? He had not come to the library, had not kept
his promise. Was it not a promise to her? He had said that she should
see him again, should be in the room alone with him, talk with him for
one hour--one poor, short hour; and in the end it was denied. Why did
he come to see Mr. Bunce? But he was well; nothing had happened to him,
which all day had been her dread.

She would not try to overhear their conversation. Enough that he was
safe in that next room, never mind for what purpose he came. She was
near to him again.

She threw up her hands against the door, and leaned her face, her bosom
on it. Her throat was so dry that she felt choking; her heart--poor
heart! could it bear this incessant throbbing pain? She swallowed
tears, and had some little bodily solace.

But if Totty should come! She hoped to be alone as long as he was
there. It was so sweet to be near him, and alone!

And Totty did not come. Of a sudden the opposite door opened. He was
leaving, going forth again she knew not whither--only that it was away
from her.

Then desire became act. She heard the house-door close, and on the
moment sped from the room. She scarcely knew what she said to Bunce on
the stairs. Now she was in the street. Which way? There he was, there,
at but a little distance.

But she must not approach him here, in this street. Any moment Totty
might come--one of the Bowers might pass. She kept at an even
remoteness, following him. Into Paradise Street, into High Street, out
into Lambeth Road, with the bridge in sight. He meant to go along the
Embankment. But it was quieter here. A quickened step, almost a run,
and she was by his side.

'Mr. Egremont!'

He stood.

'Mr. Egremont. I thought it was you. I wanted--'

They were under the church. As Thyrza spoke, the bells suddenly broke
out with their harsh clanging; they had been ringing for the last
twenty minutes, and were