'That is plausible; but you are mistaken. Long ago I talked to her with much seriousness of all her future. I spoke of the chances of her being able to earn a living with her voice, and purposely discouraged any great hope in that direction. Her needlework, and what she had been trained to at the Home, were, I showed her, likely to be her chief resources. I have even tested her on the subject of her returning to live with her sister.' 'Hope has overcome all these considerations. You kept her sister from knowing where she was. Why, if there was not some idea of severing her from her old associations?' 'I explained it to her in one of our talks. I showed her that her rashness had made it very difficult to aid her.' 'You spoke of me to her?' 'Never, as I have told you. Nor has she ever mentioned you. I pointed out to her that of course I could not explain the state of things to the Emersons, and therefore Lydia had better not visit her for some time.' Egremont sat down at a distance, and brooded. 'But a contradiction is involved!' he exclaimed presently. 'How can a girl of her character have forgotten so quickly such profound emotion?' 'You must not forget that weeks passed between my finding her and her going to live with the Emersons. During all that time the poor girl was wretched enough.' 'Weeks!' 'Her cheerfulness only came with time, after that.' 'And it is your conviction that she has absolutely put me out of her mind? That she has found sufficient happiness in the progress she has felt herself to be making?' 'That is my firm belief. Her character is not so easy to read as to-day's newspaper. She can suffer, I think, even more than most women, but she has, too, far more strength than most women, a mind of a higher order, purer consolations. And she has art to aid her, a resource you and I cannot judge of with assurance.' Walter looked up and said: 'You are describing a woman who might be the most refined man's ideal.' 'I think so.' 'You admit that Thyrza is in every way more than fit to be my wife.' 'I will admit that, Walter.' 'Then I am astonished at your tone in speaking of what I mean to do.' 'You have asked me two questions,' said Mrs. Ormonde, her face alight with conviction. 'Please answer two of mine. Is this woman worthy of a man's entire love?' He hesitated, but answered affirmatively. 'And have you that entire love to give her? Walter, the truth, for she is very dear to me.' (In her room in London Thyrza sat, and said to herself, 'To-morrow he comes!') He answered: 'I have not.' 'Then,' Mrs. Ormonde said, a slight flush in her cheeks, 'how can you express surprise at what I do?' A long silence fell. Walter brooded, something of shame on his face from that confession. Then he came to Mrs. Ormonde's side, and took her hand.