Saturday. To-night and to-morrow night
(Thursday and Friday) Thyrza and he were to go and purchase such
articles of furniture and the like as would be needed for the new house
(the list was long since carefully made out, and the places of purchase
decided upon), and these would be taken in by Mrs. Butterfield. On
Saturday afternoon the contents of Gilbert's own room were to be
removed; on that and the following night he would sleep under the new
roof, and by Monday morning would have things in sufficient order to
allow of Mrs. Grail and Lydia coming, for these two were to keep each
other company whilst he and his wife were away. By this scheme he might
work on to the end of the week, and suffer no loss of wages.

But Gilbert was not a machine, unhappily for himself. Even had nothing
external occurred to trouble the order he had planned, his own mood
would probably have rendered steady work impossible now that he could
positively count on his fingers the days before his marriage
day--before the day which would make him a free man. It was hard to
believe that two such blessings could descend upon a mortal at once. It
seemed to him that the very hours, as they went by, looked on him with
faces of mysterious menace, foretelling a dread successor. Since Monday
he had with difficulty accomplished his tasks; each time he hastened
home it was with unreasoning fear lest something bad come to pass in
his absence. And now it was no longer only apprehension. Thyrza was
changing under his eyes. She was physically ill, and he knew that some
agitation possessed her mind. She shrank from him.

The glimmer of early morning at the parlour window was cold and
threatening. A faint ray of sunlight showed itself, only to fade upon a
low, rain-charged sky. The sounds of labour recommencing were as
wearisome to him as they always are to one who has watched through an
unending night. The house itself seemed unnaturally silent.

Mrs. Grail came in at length, and looked at him anxiously. Her own eyes
lacked the refreshment of sleep.

'I didn't feel able to go, mother,' he said. 'I want to hear how Thyrza
is as soon as possible. Perhaps you can go up presently?'

She murmured an assent, and began to lay the table.

In a few minutes she ascended very quietly and listened at the girls'
door. Her report was that she could hear no sound; they must both be
sleeping.

An hour went by. Mother and son made no pretence of conversing. Gilbert
kept