'I have been poorly, dear, but I am quite well again now.' That sentence was the one her eye always turned to.

The writing was not quite the same as Thyrza's used to be; it showed weakness, she thought.
She had foreseen this, that Thyrza would fall ill; in fear of that she had deprived herself of all save the barest necessaries, that she might save a little money.

But strangers had tended her sister, and with her gladness at receiving news mingled jealousy of the hands that had been preferred to her own.

Only now the bitterness of separation seemed to be tasted to the full.
At half-past nine she went downstairs again, knowing that she would find Gilbert alone.

He was sitting unoccupied, as always now in the evenings, for his books gathered dust on the unregarded shelves.