He was always so fond of you both.

He used to say very often that he wished that I knew you; that you were so good, so unlike other people; that you bore your trouble so beautifully.' 'I bore my trouble well! Oh, Miss Hamilton, it is impossible that he could have said that, when he knew how rebellious I was.' But here I could say no more.
'Don't cry, Ursula,' she said, very sweetly; 'you are not rebellious now.
Oh, I used to be so sorry for you; you little thought at that dreadful time, when you were so lonely and desolate, that a girl whom you had never seen, and perhaps of whom you had never heard, was praying for you with all her heart.

That is what I mean by saying that I have known you for a long time.' By mutual impulse we bent forward and kissed each other,--a quiet lingering kiss that spoke of full understanding and sympathy.

I had promised Uncle Max to be good to this girl, to do all I could to help her, but I did not know as I gave that promise how my heart would cleave to her, and that in time I should grow to love her with that rare friendship that is described in Holy Writ as 'passing the love of women.' We were silent for a little while, and then by some sudden impulse I began to speak of Max; I told her that I felt a little anxious about him, that he did not seem quite well or quite happy.
'I have thought so myself,' she returned, very quietly.
'Max is so good that I cannot bear to see him unhappy,--he is so unselfish, so full of thought for other people, so earnest in his work, so conscientious and self-denying.' 'True,' she replied, taking up a little toy screen that lay in her lap and shielding her face from the flame: 'he is all that.

If any one deserves to be happy, it is your uncle.' I was glad to hear her say this, but her voice was a little constrained.
'He seems very far from happy just now,' was my answer: 'he looks worn and thin, as though he were overworking himself.