Thus did the worthy pair link together conjectural cause and effect, on principles which their habit of mind dictated.

On one point Mrs. Bower was right.  Mary and Lydia had not come together since the former’s triumph over her friend.  Lydia still visited the shop to see Mr. Boddy, but generally at the times when Mary was away at prayer-meetings.

There was no sign that she suffered at all, the good Lyddy; the trouble of those days before Christmas was lost in the anticipation of the great change that was soon to come upon her sister’s life.  To that she had resolved to look forward cheerfully; the better she came to know Gilbert, the warmer grew her affection for him.  They were made to be friends; in both were the same absolute honesty of character, the same silent depths of tenderness, the same stern self-respect.  Brother and sister henceforth, with the bond of a common love which time, whether it brought joy or sorrow, could but knit closer.

From the first there was, of course, an understanding that the marriage should take place as soon as the house was ready for Gilbert’s tenancy.  Thyrza went secretly and examined the dwelling from the outside, more than once.  That Lydia would come and live there went without saying.  She pretended to oppose this plan at first; said she must be independent.

‘Very well,’ said Thyrza, crossing her hands on her lap, ’then I shan’t be married at all, Lyddy, and Mr. Grail had better be told at once.’

There was laughing, and there were kind words.

‘I don’t think you ought still to call him Mr. Grail,’ said Lydia.

’Gilbert?  I shall have to say it to myself for a few days.  Still, it’s a nice name, isn’t it?’

Yes, that point needed no discussion; where Thyrza abode, there abode Lydia, until—­but sadness lay that way.  Mrs. Grail was equally clear as to the arrangements concerning herself; she would keep two rooms and continue to live m Walnut Tree Walk.  Thyrza thought this would be unkindness to the old lady, but Mrs. Grail had a store of wisdom and was resolute.  In practice, she said, she would not at all feel the loneliness; she could often be at the house, and it had occurred to her that her son in the Midlands would be glad to send one of his two girls to live with her for, say, half a year at a time.  Gilbert understood the good sense of this disposition.

The weather continued doleful, until at length, in the last week of February, there came a sudden change.  A rioting east wind fell upon the murky vapours of the lower sky, broke up the league of rain and darkness, and through one spring-heralding day drove silver fleece over deeps of clear, cold blue.  The streets were swept of mire; eaves ceased to distil their sooty rheum; even in the back-ways of Lambeth there was a sunny gleam on windows and a clear ring in all the sounds of life.

It was Saturday.  Between Egremont and Grail it had been decided that the latter should to-day take Thyrza to inspect the house.  Egremont had gained the surly compliance of the caretaker—­the most liberal treatment made no difference in the strange old woman’s moroseness—­ and Grail, promising himself pleasure from Thyrza’s surprise, said nothing more than that he wished to see her at three in the afternoon.