tered was
verbally true. Before rising, Thyrza had said: 'I will marry him.' In
the possible breaking of this bond Lydia saw such a terrible danger
that her instincts of absolute sincerity for once were overridden. If
she spoke falsely, it was to save her sister. Thyrza once married, the
face of life would be altered for her; this sudden passionate love
would fall like a brief flame. Lydia had decided upon a bold step. As
soon as it was possible, she would go and see Mr. Egremont, see him
herself, and, if he had any heart or any honour, prevail with him that
Thyrza might be spared temptation. But the marriage must first be over,
and must be brought about at all costs.

In her life she had never spoken an untruth for her own advantage. Now,
as she spoke, the sense that her course was chosen gave her courage.
She looked Gilbert at length boldly in the face. His confidence in her
was so great that, his own desires aiding, he believed her to the full.
Thyrza's suffering, he said to himself, had not the grave meaning he
had feared; it was something that must be sacred from his search.

So much power was there in Lydia's word, uttered for her sister's
saving.

All day long it rained. Gilbert did not go from the house. He wrestled
with hope, which was still only to be held by persistent effort.
Sunshine would have aided him, but all day he looked upon a gloomy, wet
street. At dinner-time he had all but made up his mind to go to work;
the thought, however, was too hateful to him. And he felt it would be
hard to meet men's faces. Perhaps there would be comfort by the morrow.

Thyrza did in fact come down for tea. She spoke only a few words, but
she seemed stronger than in the morning. Lydia had a brighter face too.
They went up again together after the meal.

Another night passed. Lydia slept. She believed that the worst was
over, and that there might after all be no postponement of the
marriage. For Thyrza had become very quiet; she seemed worn out with
struggle, and resigned. Her sleep, she said, had been good. Yet her
eyelids were swollen; no doubt she had cried in the night.

Lydia had no intention of leaving home. Gilbert had gone to work,
reassured by her report the last thing on the previous evening.

There was no more speech between the sisters on the subject of their
thoughts. Through the morning Thyrza lay so still that Lydia, thinking
her asleep, now and then stepped lightly and bent over her. Each time,
howev