ll, when it destroys itself.'

He said it with a sad smile. Mrs. Ormonde turned again to the subject
of Annabel. They decided that it was better to say nothing to her as
yet.

In a fortnight Thyrza went to Eastbourne. She had written a letter to
Lydia a few days after her establishment with Mrs. Emerson--a letter
without any address at the head of it. Mrs. Emerson posted it in a
remote district, that the office stamp might give no clue. Mrs. Ormonde
provided her with lodgings at the side of Eastbourne farthest from The
Chestnuts, in the house of a decent woman who did sewing for the Home.
That her days might not become wearisome for lack of occupation, it was
arranged that Thyrza should give her landlady occasional help with the
needle.

Her main task, however, was to recover health and strength. The sea air
helped her a little, but the heaviness of her heart kept her frame
languid. At first she could walk only the shortest distances; as soon
as she reached the sands, she would sit down wearily and fix her eyes
seawards, gazing with what other thoughts than when that horizon met
her vision for the first time! She had great need of uttering all her
sorrow, but could not do so to Mrs. Ormonde; it seemed to her that it
would be an unpardonable presumption to speak of Mr. Egremont as she
thought of him, and perhaps she could not have brought herself to tell
such a secret, whoever had been involved in it, to one who, kind as she
was, remained in many senses a stranger. To Lyddy, and to her alone,
she could have poured out all her heart. The longing for her sister was
now ceaseless. She grieved that she had left London without seeing her.
In the night she sometimes cried for hours because Lyddy was so far
from her.

Mrs. Ormonde came to see her every other day. Though nothing had been
said on the point, Thyrza understood that, for some reason, she was not
expected to go to The Chestnuts. And, indeed, it was too far for her to
walk in her present weak state.

But one evening she was drawn in that direction. Her landlady had gone
to Hastings, and would be absent till the next day. It was not the day
for Mrs. Ormonde's visit, and rain since morning had made it impossible
to leave the house; the hours had dragged wearily. After tea the clouds
broke, and soon there were warm rays from the westering sun. Thyrza was
glad to leave her room. She walked into the main street of the town,
for her solitude was become a pain, and she