‘Lydia,’ he said, gravely, ’you shouldn’t have allowed her to go out.  She isn’t in a fit state to leave the house.’

‘It was wrong, I know,’ she said, standing just inside the door of the parlour.

Gilbert mentioned that he had seen Egremont.  Before she could check herself, Lydia exclaimed: 

‘Where?’

He looked at her in surprise.  She turned very pale.  Mrs. Grail was also gazing at her.

‘It was at the end of Newport Street,’ Gilbert replied.  ’Why are you so anxious to know where?’

’I’m sure I don’t know.  I’m worrying so about that child.  I spoke without thinking at all.’

Half an hour more passed, then, as all sat silently together, they heard the front door opening.  Lydia started up.

’Don’t move, Gilbert!  Let me go up with her.  She’ll be afraid of being scolded.’

She went out into the passage.  The little lamp hung against the wall as usual, and when by its light she saw Thyrza, she was made motionless by alarm.  Not only was the girl’s face scarcely recognisable; her clothing was stained and in disorder.

‘Thyrza!’ she whispered.  ‘My darling, what has happened?’

The other, with a terrified look at the Grails’ door, ran past and up the stairs, speaking no word.  Her sister followed.

In the room, Thyrza did not sit down, though her whole body trembled.  She took off her hat, and tried to undo her jacket.

‘What is it?’ Lydia asked, coming near to her.  ’Where have you been?  What’s made you like this?’

She was almost as pale as her sister, and fear pressed on her throat.  Knowing what she did, she imagined some dreadful catastrophe.  Thyrza seemed unable to speak, and her eyes were so wild, so pain-stricken, that they looked like madness.  She tried to smile, and at length said disconnectedly: 

’It’s nothing, Lyddy—­only frightened—­somebody—­a drunken man—­ frightened me, and I fell down.  Nothing else!’

Lydia could make no reply.  She did not believe the story.  Silently she helped to remove the jacket, and led Thyrza to a chair.  Then she drew the dear head to her and held it close against her breast.

‘You are so cold, Thyrza!  Where have you been?  Tell me, tell Lyddy!’

’Totty wasn’t at home.  I walked a little way.  Gilbert doesn’t know?  You haven’t told him?’

’No, no, dear, it’s all right.  Come nearer to the fire:  oh, how cold you are!  Sit on my lap, dearest; rest your head against me.  Why have you been crying, Thyrza?’

There was no answer.  Held thus in her sister’s arms, Thyrza abandoned herself, closed her eyes, let every limb hang as it would, tried to be as though she were dead.  Lydia thought at first that she had lost consciousness, but her cry brought an answer.  They sat thus for some minutes.

Then Thyrza whispered: 

‘I’m poorly, Lyddy.  Let me go to bed.’