‘I didn’t feel able to go, mother,’ he said.  ’I want to hear how Thyrza is as soon as possible.  Perhaps you can go up presently?’

She murmured an assent, and began to lay the table.

In a few minutes she ascended very quietly and listened at the girls’ door.  Her report was that she could hear no sound; they must both be sleeping.

An hour went by.  Mother and son made no pretence of conversing.  Gilbert kept an open book before him.  Rain had begun to fall, and the sky darkened as the minutes ticked themselves away by the clock on the mantel-piece.

Then there was a sound on the stairs.  Lydia came into the room, and with her Thyrza.

Lydia smiled, and tried to draw attention from her sister by lamenting their lateness at the meal.

‘We were afraid you’d have gone away again,’ she said to Gilbert.

‘I don’t think I shall go to work this morning,’ he replied quietly.

She became silent.  Thyrza had drawn a chair to the table.  One saw that she had risen with difficulty—­that she with difficulty sat upright.

Gilbert, without speaking, went and sat by her.  Lydia was dreading questions, but she did injustice to the delicacy of his mind.  Mrs. Grail just said:  ‘You’re very pale still, dear,’ and nothing more.

The meal was made as short as possible.  Then Lydia helped Mrs. Grail to take the things to the kitchen.  Thyrza, before coming down, had asked to be left alone with Gilbert for a few minutes.

Grail was at the window, watching the rain.  He heard Thyrza approaching him, and turned.

‘Gilbert,’ she said, without raising her eyes, ’I’m behaving very unkindly to you.  Will you forgive me?’

‘How are you behaving unkindly, Thyrza?’ he asked, with gently expressed surprise.

’I’ve been keeping away from you.  I couldn’t help it.  I don’t feel myself.’

‘You are ill, Thyrza.  Am I to forgive you for that?’

’Yes, I am ill.  Gilbert, is it too late to ask you?  Will you put it off for a week, one week?’

He let a minute pass before replying.  Seeing that she trembled as she stood, he led her to a chair, the chair in which she always sat.

‘Dear,’ he said at length, ‘I will do whatever you wish.’

’I shall be better by then, I think.  But I’ll go with you to buy the things just the same.’

‘We can leave that for a few days,’ he said absently.

‘It wouldn’t make any difference to you at the library?’

’None, I am sure, I will write and tell Mr. Egremont.  He will be very sorry to hear of your illness.’

She stood up, and looked at the clock.

‘I’ve made you late for your work.’

‘I shan’t go to-day.’

‘You won’t go?’ she asked.

‘I can’t, Thyrza.  I’m too uneasy about you.’

‘Don’t be that, Gilbert, I promise you to try and get better.’