e excited all her fiercest
emotions as did this attack upon her sister. Running homewards, she
felt the will and the strength to take the life of her enemy. She had
entered the Bowers' house, and left it, by the private door; it was
well that she had met no one.

She remembered that Thyrza must not discover her excitement, and went
up the stairs slowly, regaining breath, trying to smooth her face. A
fable to account for Mr. Boddy's summons was ready on her tongue. She
entered, and found an empty room.

So Thyrza had gone down to Mrs. Grail after all. That was good. The
poor girl was making a brave struggle, and would conquer herself yet.
If only Bower's gossip could be kept from Gilbert, But there was still
a long time till Monday, still two whole days, and Bower, determined as
he evidently was to work mischief, would not neglect the supreme
opportunity. It would have been better if Gilbert had not returned to
work.

She took off her things.

What was that lying on the table? An envelope, a dirty one which had
been in the drawer for a long time; on it was written 'Lyddy.' It was
Thyrza's writing. Lydia opened it. Inside was a rough piece of white
paper, torn off a sheet in which something had been wrapped. It was
written upon, and the writing said this:

'I have gone away. I can't marry Gilbert, and I can't tell him the
truth. Remember your promise. Some day I shall come back to you, when
everything is different. Remember your promise, so that Gilbert can go
to the library just the same. No harm will come to me. Good-bye, my
dear, dear sister. If you love me you will say you know nothing, so
that it will be all right for Gilbert. Good-bye, Lyddy, darling.'

Crushing the paper in her hand, Lydia, just as she was, ran out into
the street. It was not yet dark. Instinctively, after one glance
towards Kennington Road, she took the opposite way and made for Newport
Street. Thyrza would communicate with Totty Nancarrow, if with any one
at all; she would not go there at once, but Totty must be won over to
aid in discovering the child and bringing her back.

It rained, not heavily, but enough to dew Lydia's hair in a few
minutes. Little she thought of that. Thyrza wandering alone--straying
off into some far part of London; Thyrza, ill as she was--with at most
a few pence to procure lodging for this one night--alone among what
dangers! The thought was fire in her brain.

She was in Paradise Street, and someone stood in