Thyrza drew a little apart.

‘I feel I shall be glad to be his wife,’ she said firmly.  ’I felt I must say “yes,” and I don’t think I shall ever be sorry.  I could never have said “yes” to Mr. Ackroyd, Lyddy!’ She sprang forward and held her sister again.  ’You know why I couldn’t!  You can’t keep secrets from me, though you could from any one else.  You know why I could never have wished to marry him!’

They held each other in that unity of perfect love which had hallowed so many moments of their lives.  Lydia’s face was hidden.  But at length she raised it, to ask solemnly: 

‘It was not because you thought this that you promised Mr. Grail?’

‘No, no, no!’

’Blue-eyes, nobody ’ll ever love me but you.  And I don’t think I shall ever have a sad minute if I see that you’re happy.  I do hope you’ve done right.’

’I’m sure I have, Lyddy.  You must tell Mary to-morrow.  And grandad—­ think how surprised they’ll be!  Of course, everybody’ll know soon.  I shall go to work to-morrow, you know I’m quite well again.  And Lyddy, when I’m Mrs. Grail of course, Mr. Ackroyd ’ll come and see us.’

Lydia made no reply to this.  She could not tell what had happened between herself and Mary Bower, and the mention of Ackroyd’s name was now a distress to her.  She moved from her seat, saying that it was long past supper-time.

Thyrza went down to see Mrs. Grail next morning just before setting out for work.  The piece of news was communicated to her, and she hastened with it to her sister.  But Gilbert had requested that they would as yet speak of it to no one; it was better to wait till Mr. Egremont had himself made the fact known among the members of his class.  Lydia was much impressed with Gilbert’s behaviour in keeping that good fortune a secret in the interview with Thyrza.  It heightened her already high opinion of him, and encouraged her to look forward with hope.  Yet hope would not come without much bidding; doubts and anxieties knocked only too freely at her heart.

One evening Lydia, returning from making a purchase for Mrs. Grail, met Ackroyd.  It was at the Kennington Road end of Walnut Tree Walk.  He seemed to be waiting.  He raised his hat; Lydia bent her head and walked past; but a quick step sounded behind her.

‘Miss Trent!  Will you stop a minute?’

She turned.  Luke held out his hand.

‘It’s a long time since we spoke a word,’ he said, with friendliness.  ’But we’re not always going to pass each other like that, are we?’

Lydia smiled; it was all she could do.  She did not know for certain that he had yet heard the news.

‘I want you,’ he continued ’to give your sister my good wishes.  Will you?’

‘Yes, I will, Mr. Ackroyd.’

’Grail came and told me all about it.  It wasn’t pleasant to hear, but he’s a good fellow and I’m not surprised at his luck.  I haven’t felt I wanted to quarrel with him, and I think better of myself for that.  And yet it means a good deal to me—­more than you think, I dare say.’