She laid her hand upon his arm. Ackroyd took the hand and held it whilst he compelled her to listen to him. 'Lydia, we can't go till you've heard everything. I've got more to tell you.' 'More? What is it? A man that 'll say so much 'll say anything. You've told me quite enough, I should think, considering it's about my own sister.' 'But, Lydia, do listen to me, my poor girl! Try and quiet yourself, and listen to me. There's nothing more of Bower's telling; he didn't say any more; and there was more harm in his way of telling it than in the story itself. But I have something to tell you that I've found out myself.' She looked him in the face. Her hand she had drawn away. 'And _you_ are going to say harm of Thyrza!' she said under her breath, eyeing him as though he were her deadliest enemy. 'Think and say of me what you like, Lydia. I've got something that I must tell you; if I don't, I'd a deal better never have said anything at all. You're not right about the library. There _are_ books there, and Mr. Egremont has been busy with them of a morning.' 'But how can _you_ know better than Gilbert?' she cried. 'I know, because I went last night to find out. As soon as I'd heard Bower's tale, I went. And I was there again to-day, at dinner-time, and I saw your sister come out of the door.' She was silent. In spite of her passionate exclamations, a suspicion had whispered within her from the first, a voice to which she would lend no ear. Now she was constrained to think. She remembered Thyrza's lateness at dinner on Monday; she remembered that Thyrza had been from home each morning this week. And if it were true that books had arrived at the library, and that Gilbert knew nothing of it--Was _this_ the explanation of Thyrza's illness, of her inexplicable agitations, of her sleeplessness? She could not raise her head. Ackroyd too kept silent. She asked at length: 'Have you anything more to tell me?' 'Yes, I _have_ something more. It's another thing that I found out last night, after leaving Bower. Say that you don't accuse me of conduct as bad as Bower's!' he added, vehemently. 'I _must_ tell you everything, and it makes me seem as if I told it for the sake of telling. Say you believe in my honesty, at all events!' 'I don't accuse you of anything,' she replied, still under her breath. 'What is it you have to say?'