'What does Ursula know about the present fashion? She has spent the last
year in the wards of St. Thomas's, my dear,' dropping her voice, and
taking up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses to inspect me more critically,--a
mere habit, for I had reason to know Aunt Philippa was not the least
near-sighted. 'I cannot see any occasion for you to dress so dowdily,
with three hundred a year to spend absolutely on yourself; for of course
poor Charlie's little share has come to you. You could surely make
yourself presentable, especially as you know we are going to Hyde Park
Mansions to see Lesbia.'

This was too much for my equanimity. 'What does it matter? I am not
coming with you, Aunt Philippa,' I retorted, somewhat vexed at this
personality; but Sara overheard us, and strove to pour oil on the
troubled waters.

'Leave Ursula alone, mother: she looks tolerably well this afternoon;
only mourning never suits a dark complexion--' But I did not wait to
hear any more. I wandered about the place disconsolately, pretending to
examine things with passing curiosity, but my eyes were throbbing and my
heart beating angrily at Sara's thoughtless speech. A sudden remembrance
seemed to steal before me vividly: Charlie's pale face, with its sad,
sweet smile, haunted me. 'Courage, Ursula; it will be over soon.' Those
were his last words, poor boy, and he was looking at me and not at Lesbia
as he spoke. I always wondered what he meant by them. Was it his long
pain, which he had borne so patiently, that would soon be over? or was
it that cruel parting to which he alluded? or did he strive to comfort
me at the last with the assurance--alas! for our mortal nature, so sadly
true--that pain cannot last for ever, that even faithful sorrow is
short-lived and comforts itself in time, that I was young enough to
outlive more than one trouble, and that I might take courage from this