There was no answer. Held thus in her sister's arms, Thyrza abandoned herself, closed her eyes, let every limb hang as it would, tried to be as though she were dead. Lydia thought at first that she had lost consciousness, but her cry brought an answer. They sat thus for some minutes.
Then Thyrza whispered:
'I'm poorly, Lyddy. Let me go to bed.'
'You shall, dear. I'll sit by you. You'll let me stay by you?'
'Yes.'
As her clothes were removed she shook feverishly.
'They won't come up?' she asked several times. 'Mrs. Grail won't come? Go and tell them I've got a headache, and that it'll be all right in the morning.'
'They won't come, dear. Get into bed, and I'll go and tell them directly.'
She could have wept for misery, but she must be strong for Thyrza's sake. Whatever hope remained depended now upon her own self-command and prudence. When Thyrza had lain down, Lydia succeeded in showing almost a cheerful face.
'I'll just go down and say you're poorly. You won't move till I come back?'