eze
when they were brought out of doors. Thyrza had not been resting for
more than a minute or two, when a voice spoke from the other side of
the wall, so plainly that she started, thinking she was observed and
addressed. The voice was Mrs. Ormonde's.

'So at last,' she said, 'you have come.'

There was a brief silence, then the tones for which she waited once
more fell upon her ear.

'You are alone to-night?' asked Egremont.

'Quite. I have been reading and thinking. Shall we go into the house?'

'If you will let me, I had rather sit with you here.'

Again there was silence. When Mrs. Ormonde spoke, it was in a lower
voice, and such as one uses in reply to a look of affection.

'Why have you kept me in anxiety about you for so long, Walter?'

'I have had no mind to speak to any one, not even to you. I had nothing
to tell you that would please you to hear. Often I have resolved to
leave England for good, and give no account of myself to any one. It
seemed unkind of you not to write. I waited till I knew you must have
heard all that people had to say of me, and then every day I expected
your letter. You could only be silent for one reason.'

'Why, then, have you come now?'

'Because I am ill and can be alone no longer.'

Thyrza scarcely breathed. It was as though all her senses had merged in
one--that of hearing. Her eyes beheld nothing, and she was conscious of
no more bodily pain. She listened for the very breathing of the two,
who were so close to her that she might almost have touched them.

'How do you know that people are occupying themselves with your
concerns at all?'

'From Jersey I went to France. When I reached London again, knowing
nothing of what had happened whilst I was away, I met Dalmaine and his
wife at Charing Cross station. They turned away, and refused to speak
to me. When I got home, I found what it meant. Grail told me plainly
what the general opinion was.'

'You saw Grail?'

'Of course. You think, naturally, that I should have hidden my face
from him.'

'Don't be so harsh with me. You forget that I have still to learn
everything.'

'Yes, I will tell you; I will explain; I will defend myself. I want
your sympathy, and I will do my best to prove that I am not
contemptible.'

'Hush! Be quiet for a moment. I have not written to you because I
thought it needless to make conjectures, and ask questions, and give
assurances, when you were sure, sooner or later, to come and tell me