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The contention was over, and the tenderness came back. 'Speak something for me to Gilbert, Lyddy! Say I what can I say? I do feel for him; I can never forget his goodness as long as I live. Tell him to forget all about me, How wrong I was ever to say that I loved him! Then again, in a whisper: 'What about Mr. Ackroyd, dearest? 'The same. They're not married yet. I dare say they will be soon.
Lyddy heard the violin and the man's voice as he talked to the child, heard them night after night; and when she went home to the little brown house to light the fire on the hearth and let down the warm red curtains, she fell into sweet, sad reveries; and when she blew out her candle for the night, she fell asleep and dreamed new dreams, and her heart was stirred with the rustling of new-born hopes that rose and took wing like birds startled from their nests.
'Yes, yes, Lyddy; I understand, There's a deal of talk about him. I'm sorry. He's done me more than one good turn, and I hope he'll get straight again yet. I'm afraid, my dear, as you know the disappointment Lydia interrupted with firmness. 'That's no excuse at all not a bit! If he really felt the disappointment so much he ought to have borne it like a man. Other people have as much to bear.
"That looks like cookin'! All I meant was, 't Ephraim ought not to be doin' his own cookin' that is if you can call it cookin' but then, of course, 'tis cookin' there's all kinds o' cookin'. I went cook myself, when I was a boy." After supper, Aunt Lyddy sat down to knit, and Joshua drew his chair up to an open window, to smoke his pipe. In this vice Aunt Lyddy encouraged him.
The father was almost always away from home; his sister kept the house, and Lyddy stayed in the nursery, bathing the babies and putting them to bed, dressing them in the morning, and playing with them in the safe privacy of the garden or the open attic.
'I've done wrong to you and to Gilbert, but do try and forgive me. Why are you so quiet? Haven't you love enough for me to do just this? She stood up, flushed and with wild eyes. 'Be quiet, Thyrza dearest! pleaded her sister. 'Then answer me, Lyddy I Promise me! 'I want to know one thing first. Have you seen Mr. Egremont?
Thyrza had resolved that she would not tell her sister the truth of everything for a long time; some day she would do so, when the new life had become old habit. But, as they sat by the fire and spoke in low voices, she was impelled to make all known. Why should there any longer be a secret between Lyddy and herself?
She's a good girl, Lyddy is, an' would you believe the money an' all hasn't gone to her brains, though what with workin' like a horse an' me to steady her, an' shrewder than the lawyers themself, if I do say it, she ain't had much chance. And here's The Place." And here was The Place.
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.
"I wish Lyddy was here. She would convince you you were standing in your own light," returned Lyddy's widower in a perplexed tone. "I don't need one to come from the dead to show me my own mind," retorted Miss Doolittle, firmly. "Well, like enough you are right," said Captain Ben, mildly, putting a few stems of barberries in her pail; "ma' be it wouldn't be best. I don't want to be rash."
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