’I don’t really know anything, love—­it’s only that I can’t help thinking—­I’ve noticed things.’

Thyrza raised herself upon one arm.  She was terror-stricken.

’What have you noticed?  Tell me at once!  You’ve no right to say things of that kind!  Can’t I be poorly without you talking as if I’d done something wrong?  What have I done?  Nothing, nothing!  Leave me alone, Lyddy!  Go downstairs, and leave me to myself!’

‘But you don’t understand me,’ pleaded the other.  ’I don’t think you’ve done anything, but I know you’re in trouble—­how can I help knowing it?’

’But you said you’ve noticed things.  What do you mean by that?  You’d no right to say it if you don’t mean anything!  You’re trying to frighten me!  I can’t bear you sitting there!  I want to be alone!  If you must stay in the room, go away and sit by the fire.  Haven’t you no sewing to do?  You’ve always got plenty at other times.  Oh, you make me feel as if I should go mad!’

Lydia withdrew from the bedside.  She sat down in a corner of the room and covered her face with her hands.

Thyrza fell back exhausted.  She had wrought herself almost to hysteria, and, though she could not shed tears, the dry sobs seemed as if they would rend her bosom.

Minutes passed.  She turned and looked at her sister.  Lydia was bent forward, propping her forehead.

‘Lyddy, I want you.’

Lydia came forward.  She had been crying.  She fell on her knees by the bed.

’Lyddy, what did you mean?  It’s no good denying it, you meant something.  You said you’d noticed things You’ve no right to say that and say no more.

’You won’t tell me what your secret is without me saying what I’ve thought?’

‘I’ve got no secret!  I don’t know what you mean by secret!’

‘Thyrza—­have you—­have you seen Mr. Egremont tonight?’

They looked at each other.  Thyrza’s lips were just parted; she drew herself back, as if to escape scrutiny.  The arm with which she supported herself trembled violently.

‘Why do you ask that?’ she said, faintly.

‘That’s what I meant, Thyrza,’ the other whispered, with a face of fear.

’Have I seen Mr. Egremont?  I don’t know what you’re thinking of?  Why should I see Mr. Egremont?  What have I to do with him?’

Lydia put her hand forward and touched her sister.

‘Thyrza!’ she cried, passionately.  ’Tell me!  Tell me everything!  I can’t bear it!  If you have ever so little love for me in your heart —­tell me!’

Thyrza could no longer keep her raised position.  She fell back.  Then with one hand she caught the railing at the head of the bed and held it convulsively, whilst she buried her face in the pillow.

Lydia bent over her, and said in low, quick tones: