pleased her just as well for Thyrza to marry Grail if the latter had had no thought of quitting his familiar work.  Consequently it was no difficulty to her to leave altogether out of sight Egremont’s purposed benefits to Gilbert.  She no longer believed that he was innocent of designs in his intercourse with Thyrza.  This change was a natural enough consequence of Lydia’s character, just as it had been perfectly natural for her to think and speak as she had done under the first shock of her sister’s flight.  Since then she had suffered terribly, and the suffering turned her against him who was the plain cause of it.

‘What is the post-mark on the envelope?’ Gilbert asked, Lydia continuing to brood over her jealousies and dreads.

The stamp was ‘Charing Cross.’  Small help derivable from that.

‘She doesn’t even say whether she’ll write again,’ Lydia murmured.

Gilbert said presently:  ’I shall write to Mr. Egremont, and tell him that we have heard.’

‘Oh no!’ Lydia protested, indignantly.  ’Why should you tell him?  You mustn’t do that, Gilbert; I don’t want him to know.’

’I promised him, Lyddy.  Of course I shouldn’t tell him where she was, if we knew, but I promised to let him hear if we had any news.’

’Then I don’t see why you promised such a thing.  It doesn’t concern him.’

Gilbert was troubled by this persistence.  Lydia spoke with earnest disapproval.  He could not do as he wished in defiance of her, yet he must certainly keep his promise to Egremont.

‘You must remember,’ he said gently, ’that he has reason to be anxious, as well as we.’

‘What have we to do with that?’ she replied, stubbornly.  ’He has no right to think anything about her.’

’I mean, Lyddy, that he is troubled because of our trouble.  All I want to do is to tell him that a letter has come from Thyrza, without address, and that she says she has found friends.  Won’t you consent to that?’

After a short silence, Lydia replied: 

‘I won’t say any more, Gilbert.  As you like.’

’No, that’s not enough.  I must have your full agreement.  It’s either right or wrong to do it, and you must make up your mind clearly.’

‘I shouldn’t wonder if he knows,’ she said briefly.

’He doesn’t know.  I shall not distrust him again.  He would have told me.’

‘Then you had better write.’

‘You see that I ought to?’

‘Yes, as you promised.  But I can’t see why you did.’

This form of consent had to suffice, feminine as it was.  But Gilbert knew Lydia well by this time, and no trifling fault could touch his deep affection and respect for her.