'Don't come with me,' she said.

'Yes, you must let me. I was going to try and see you tonight, Lydia, to ask what--'

'And I wanted to see you. I felt I must tell you how well everything seemed to be going. Oh, and now--How shall I tell Gilbert? How _shall_ I tell him? What ought I to do, Mr. Ackroyd? Thyrza made me promise faithful I wouldn't tell her secret. She says that, in the note. I'm sure she hasn't gone--gone to him. She couldn't marry Gilbert, and yet she doesn't want him to lose the library. That's why she's gone; I know it is. She believes I shall keep my promise. But what must I do? How can I pretend I don't know anything?'

'I don't think you can.'

'I didn't care for anything as long as it helped her. Mr. Boddy sent for me just now--that was why I had to go out. Mrs. Bower had been telling him. I said it was all a lie from beginning to end. Didn't I do right, Mr. Ackroyd? I'd say and do anything for Thyrza. But how can I keep it from Gilbert flow?'

'You can't, Lydia. He's bound to hear from somebody. And if you feel so sure that she hasn't gone--'

'She hasn't She hasn't! You promised me you wouldn't think harm of her.'

'Indeed I won't. But Grail's bound to know. I can't see that you'll make it a bit better by denying.'

'But my promise to Thyrza! The last thing she ever asked of me. And Gilbert 'll refuse the place; I know he will!'

'Yes, he will. There's no man could take it after this. I'm right down sorry for poor Grail.'

They were in Walnut Tree Walk by this time.

'Don't come any farther,' Lydia said. 'Thank you for being so kind to me. Here, take these things of your sister's; you can just carry them back--or I'll leave them, if you like.'

'No, you shan't have that trouble. If Gilbert's home you ought to tell him now. He'll go to the police station, and ask them to help to find her. Let me know at once If you hear anything. She may come back.'

'No, she won't.'

'Run into the house at once.'

The parlour door opened as she entered the passage. Gilbert came out.

'Where has Thyrza gone to?' he asked, after examining her for an instant.

She could not speak, and could not stir from the place. Her hope had been to have time before she saw him.

'Lydia, where has Thyrza gone?'

She stepped into the room. The piece of paper was still crushed within her hand; she held it closer still.

'She's gone away, Gilbert. I don't know where. I had to go out, and when I came back she was gone. Perhaps she'll come back.'

Mrs. Grail was in the background. She was supporting herself by a chair; her face gave proof of some agitation just experienced. Gilbert was very pale, but when Lydia ended he seemed to master himself and spoke with an unnatural calm.

'Have you heard anything,' he asked, 'of a calumny the Bowers have been spreading, about your sister and Mr. Egremont?'

'Yes. I have heard it.'

'When did it first come to your knowledge?'

'On Wednesday night. Mr. Ackroyd told me.'

'And did Thyrza hear of it?'

'No, Gilbert. I think not.'

He moved in surprise.

'You say she has gone? What makes you think she has left us?'

To hide anything now was worse than useless. Without speaking, she held to him the scrap of paper. He, having read, turned to his mother.

'Will you let us be alone, mother?'

The poor old woman went with bowed head from the room. Gilbert's voice dropped to a lower note.

'Lydia, as you have shown me this, you must have decided that you cannot keep the promise which is spoken of here.'

'I can't keep it, Gilbert, because you might think worse of Thyrza if I do.'

'Think worse? Then you suppose I believe what is said about her--about Thyrza?'

'I can't think you believe what Mr. Bower _wishes_ people to, but you can't know how little she's been to blame.'

He was silent, then said:

'I came home a few minutes ago, thinking that what Bunce has just told was a mere lie, set afloat by someone who wished us harm. I thought Thyrza knew of the lie, and that it had made her ill--that she could not bring herself to speak to me of it. But I see there's something more.'

She stood before him like one guilty. His calmness was terrible to her.

She seemed to feel in herself all the anguish which he was repressing.

He continued:

'You told me yesterday morning that Thyrza still wished to marry me.

This note shows me why you said that, and in what sense you meant it. I don't blame you, Lydia; you were loyal to your sister. But I must ask you something else now, and your answer must be the simple truth. Does Thyrza love Mr. Egremont?'

'Yes, Gilbert.'

She said it with failing voice, and, as soon as she had spoken, burst into tears.

'Oh, I have broken the promise I made to my dear one! The last thing she asked, and perhaps I shall never see her again! What could I do, Gilbert? If I kept it back, you'd have thought there was something worse. She seems to have behaved cruel to you, but you don't know what she's gone through. She's so ill; she'll go somewhere and die, and I shall never hear her speak to me again! I've been unkind to her so often; she doesn't know how I love her! Gilbert, help me to find her! I can't live without my sister. Don't be angry with her, Gilbert; she's suffered dreadful; if you only knew! She tried so hard. Her last thought was about you, and how she could spare you. Forgive her, and bring her back to me. What shall we do to find her? Oh, I _can't_ lose her, my little sister, my dear one!'

One would have thought Gilbert had no grief of his own, so anxiously did he try to comfort her.

'Lyddy,' he said, when she could listen to him, 'you are _my_ sister, and will always be. If I could think unkindly of Thyrza now, I should show that I was never worthy of her. Don't hurt me by saying such things. We will find her; have no fear, we will find her.'

'And you'll do as she wished? You'll still go to the library?'

'I can't think of myself yet, Lyddy. You must have her back again, and there'll be time enough to think of trifles.'

'But let me tell you all I know, Gilbert. He doesn't love her; you mustn't think that. There's never been a word between them. She went to help him with the books, and so it came on her.'