'Thyrza!' she whispered. 'My darling, what has happened?'
The other, with a terrified look at the Grails' door, ran past and up the stairs, speaking no word. Her sister followed.
In the room, Thyrza did not sit down, though her whole body trembled. She took off her hat, and tried to undo her jacket.
'What is it?' Lydia asked, coming near to her. 'Where have you been? What's made you like this?'
She was almost as pale as her sister, and fear pressed on her throat. Knowing what she did, she imagined some dreadful catastrophe. Thyrza seemed unable to speak, and her eyes were so wild, so pain-stricken, that they looked like madness. She tried to smile, and at length said disconnectedly:
'It's nothing, Lyddy—only frightened—somebody—a drunken man—frightened me, and I fell down. Nothing else!'
Lydia could make no reply. She did not believe the story. Silently she helped to remove the jacket, and led Thyrza to a chair. Then she drew the dear head to her and held it close against her breast.
'You are so cold, Thyrza! Where have you been? Tell me, tell Lyddy!'
'Totty wasn't at home. I walked a little way. Gilbert doesn't know? You haven't told him?'
'No, no, dear, it's all right. Come nearer to the fire: oh, how cold you are! Sit on my lap, dearest; rest your head against me. Why have you been crying, Thyrza?'