'Will you let us be alone, mother?'
The poor old woman went with bowed head from the room. Gilbert's voice dropped to a lower note.
'Lydia, as you have shown me this, you must have decided that you cannot keep the promise which is spoken of here.'
'I can't keep it, Gilbert, because you might think worse of Thyrza if I do.'
'Think worse? Then you suppose I believe what is said about her—about Thyrza?'
'I can't think you believe what Mr. Bower wishes people to, but you can't know how little she's been to blame.'
He was silent, then said:
'I came home a few minutes ago, thinking that what Bunce has just told was a mere lie, set afloat by someone who wished us harm. I thought Thyrza knew of the lie, and that it had made her ill—that she could not bring herself to speak to me of it. But I see there's something more.'
She stood before him like one guilty. His calmness was terrible to her. She seemed to feel in herself all the anguish which he was repressing. He continued:
'You told me yesterday morning that Thyrza still wished to marry me. This note shows me why you said that, and in what sense you meant it. I don't blame you, Lydia; you were loyal to your sister. But I must ask you something else now, and your answer must be the simple truth. Does Thyrza love Mr. Egremont?'