'Oh, Ursula, I think you are to be envied! If I could only come with you and work too!--but there is mother, she could not do without me, and so we must just go on in the same old way.' I was so shocked at the hopelessness of her tone, so taken aback at her words, that I could not answer her for a moment: it seemed inconceivable to me that she could be saying such things.

Poor pretty Lesbia, whom Charlie had loved and whom I considered a mere fragile butterfly.

She was quite pale now, and her eyes filled suddenly with tears.
'You do not believe me, Ursula; no, I was right--you never understood me.
I often told dear Charlie so.

You think, because I laugh and dance and do as other girls do, that I have forgotten--that I do not suffer.

Do you think I shall ever find any one so good and kind in this world again?
Oh, you are hard on me, and I am so miserable, so unhappy, without Charlie.
And I am not like you: I cannot work myself into forgetfulness; I must stop with mother and do as she bids me, and she says it is my duty to be gay.' I was so ashamed of myself, of my mean injustice, that I was very nearly crying myself as I asked her pardon.
'Why do you say that ?' she returned, almost pettishly, only she looked so miserable.