'I don't really know anything, love—it's only that I can't help thinking—I've noticed things.'
Thyrza raised herself upon one arm. She was terror-stricken.
'What have you noticed? Tell me at once! You've no right to say things of that kind! Can't I be poorly without you talking as if I'd done something wrong? What have I done? Nothing, nothing! Leave me alone, Lyddy! Go downstairs, and leave me to myself!'
'But you don't understand me,' pleaded the other. 'I don't think you've done anything, but I know you're in trouble—how can I help knowing it?'
'But you said you've noticed things. What do you mean by that? You'd no right to say it if you don't mean anything! You're trying to frighten me! I can't bear you sitting there! I want to be alone! If you must stay in the room, go away and sit by the fire. Haven't you no sewing to do? You've always got plenty at other times. Oh, you make me feel as if I should go mad!'
Lydia withdrew from the bedside. She sat down in a corner of the room and covered her face with her hands.
Thyrza fell back exhausted. She had wrought herself almost to hysteria, and, though she could not shed tears, the dry sobs seemed as if they would rend her bosom.
Minutes passed. She turned and looked at her sister. Lydia was bent forward, propping her forehead.
'Lyddy, I want you.'
Lydia came forward. She had been crying. She fell on her knees by the bed.