Lydia was in doubt.  The thought of introducing a stranger to this room to sit and pore upon the dead face with cold interest was repugnant to her.  Yet if Thyrza’s face really could be preserved, to look at her, for others dear to her to look at, that would be much.  She gave her assent.

Mary Bower came frequently; her silent presence was a help to Lydia through the miseries of the next few days.

One other there was who asked timidly to be allowed to see Thyrza once more—­her friend Totty.  She sought Mary Bower, and said how much she wished it, though she feared Lydia would not grant her wish.  But it was granted readily, Totty had her sad pleasure, and her solemn memory.

Mrs. Ormonde knew that it was better for her not to attend the funeral.  On the evening before, she left at the house a small wreath of white flowers.  Lydia, Gilbert, Mary Bower, Luke Ackroyd and his sister, these only went to the cemetery.  He whom Thyrza would have wished to follow her, in thought at least, to the grave, was too far away to know of her death till later.

The next day, Lydia sat for an hour with Ackroyd.  They did not speak much.  But before she left him, Lydia looked into his face and said: 

’Do you wish me to believe, Luke, that I shall never see my sister again?’

He bent his face and kept silence.

’Do you think that I could live if I believed that she was gone for ever?  That I should never meet Thyrza after this, never again?’

‘I shall never wish you to think in that way, Lyddy,’ he answered, kindly.  ’I’ve often talked as if I knew things for certain, when I know nothing.  You’re better in yourself than I am, and you may feel more of the truth.’

The next morning, Lydia went to her work as usual.  Gilbert had already returned to his.  The clear winter sunshine was already a thing of the far past; in the streets was the slush of thaw, and darkness fell early from the obscured sky.

CHAPTER XLI

THE LIVING

This winter the Newthorpes spent abroad.  Mr. Newthorpe was in very doubtful health when he went to Ullswater, just before Egremont’s return to England, and by the end of the autumn his condition was such as to cause a renewal of Annabel’s former fears.  On a quick decision, they departed for Cannes, and remained there till early in the following April.

‘There’s a sort of absurdity,’ Mr. Newthorpe remarked, ’in living when you can think of nothing but how you’re to save your life.  Better have done with it, I think.  It strikes me as an impiety, too, to go playing at hide-and-seek with the gods.’

They came back to Eastbourne, which, on the whole, seemed to suit the invalid during these summer months.  He did little now but muse over a few favourite books and listen to his daughter’s conversation.  Comparatively a young man, his energies were spent, his life was behind him.  To Annabel it was infinitely sorrowful to have observed this rapid process of decay.  She could not be persuaded that the failure of his powers was anything more than temporary.  But her father lost no opportunity of warning her that she deceived herself.  He had his reasons for doing so.