hings off. You're going to stay with me to-night, you
know. Sit still, and let me take them off. Dear, good old Lyddy! Oh,
will you do my hair for me tomorrow morning? Think of doing my hair
again! Poor old Lyddy, you always did cry when you were glad, and never
for anything else. Shall I sit on your lap, like I used to do after I'd
been naughty, years and years ago? Oh, years and years; you don't know
how old I am, Lyddy. You don't think you're still older than me, do
you? No, that's all altered. Mrs. Guest here asked me how old I was the
other day, and I wouldn't tell her, because the truth wasn't true. I
was so ill, Lyddy dear; I did think I should die, and I should have
wished to, but for you. I couldn't send for you: I was ashamed to. I'd
behaved too bad to you and to everybody. But people were kind, much
kinder than they'd need have been. Some day I'll go and see Mrs. Gandle
and tell her I haven't forgotten her kindness. You shall go with me,
Lyddy. But no, no; you wouldn't like. We'll forget all about that.'

'Where was that, Thyrza?'

'A place where I got work. Do you know where the Caledonian Road is?'

Lydia tightened her embrace, as if shame and hardship still threatened
her dear one and she would guard her from them.

'But how did you get better? What happened then?'

'When I was very bad, Mrs. Gandle one night looked in my pocket to see
if I'd anything about me to show where I belonged. And she found that
bit of paper with Mrs. Ormonde's name and address. But wait, Lyddy;
I've something to say. Did you do as I asked, about not telling any one
where I was?'

'I didn't tell any one, Thyrza. Nobody knew where I was going. I mean,
of course I told Gilbert that I was going to you, but not where you
were.'

Thyrza, after a short pause, asked very quietly:

'How is Gilbert, Lyddy?'

'He seems pretty well, dear.'

'Has he--has he felt it very hard?'

She kept her eyes veiled, and pressed her head closer to Lydia's
shoulder.

'He's had a great deal to go through, dear.'

The touch of severity in Lydia's voice came of her thoughts turning to
Egremont. But Thyrza felt herself judged and rebuked; she trembled.

'What is he doing?' she asked, in a voice barely audible.

'He goes to work, as usual. It's a new place.'

'Poor Gilbert Oh, I'm sorry for him! He never deserved this of me.
Lyddy,' she added in a whisper, 'it makes you so cruel to other people
when you love anyone.'

Lydia found no answer.