He stood as if doubting. Both her hands were together in his he searched her blue eyes, and their depths rendered to him a sweetness and purity before which his heart bowed in worship. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Thyrza reddened and kept her eyes down. 'May I go now?' she said, when, after kissing her hands, he had released them at the first feeling that they were being drawn away. 'If you wish to, Thyrza.' 'I'll stay if you like, Mr. Grail, but--I think--' She had risen. The warmth would not pass from her cheeks, and the sensation prevented her from looking up; she desired to escape and be alone. 'Will you come down and speak to mother in the morning?' Gilbert said, relieving her from the necessity of adding more. 'She will have something to tell you.' 'Yes, I'll come. Good-night, Mr. Grail.' Both had forgotten the book that was to have been selected. Thyrza gave her hand as she always did when taking leave of him, save that she could not meet his eyes. He held it a little longer than usual, then saw her turn and leave the room hurriedly. An hour later, when Mrs. Grail came into the parlour, Gilbert drew from its envelope and handed to her the letter he had received from Egremont on Christmas Eve. She read it, and turned round to him with astonishment. 'Why didn't you tell me this, child? Well now, if I didn't _think_ there was something that night! Have you answered? Oh no, you're not to answer for a week.' 'What's your advice?' 'Eh, how that reminds me of your father!' the old lady exclaimed. 'I've heard him speak just with that voice and that look many a time. Well, well, my dear, it's only waiting, you see; something comes soon or late to those that deserve it. I'm glad I've lived to see this, Gilbert.' He said, when they had talked of it for a few minutes: 'Will you show this to Thyrza to-morrow morning?' She fixed her eyes on him, over the top of her spectacles, keenly. 'To be sure I will. Yes, yes, of course I will.' 'She's been here for a few minutes since tea. I told her if she'd come down in the morning you'd have something to tell her.' 'She's been here? But why didn't you call me? I must go up and speak.' 'Not to-night, mother. It was better that you weren't here. I had something to say to her--something I wanted to say before she heard of this. Now she has a right to know.' Lydia returned shortly after eight o'clock. She had walked about aimlessly for an hour and a half, avoiding the places where she was likely to meet anyone she knew. She was chilled and wretched. Thyrza said nothing till her sister had taken off her hat and jacket and seated herself. 'When did you see Mr. Ackroyd last?' she inquired. 'I'm sure I don't know,' was the reply. 'I passed him in the Walk about a week ago.' 'But, I mean, when did you speak to him?' 'Oh, not for a long time,' said Lydia, smoothing the hair upon her forehead. 'Why?' 'He seems to have forgotten all about me, Lyddy.'