’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 thought?

I looked down at the black dress, such as I had worn nearly two years for him, and raged as I remembered Sara’s flippant words.  ’My darling, I would wear mourning for you all my life gladly,’ I said, with an inward sob that was more anger than sorrow, ’if I thought you would care for me to do it.  Oh, what a world this is, Charlie! surely vanity and vexation of spirit!’

I did not mean to be cross with Sara, but my thoughts had taken a gloomy turn, and I could not recover my spirits:  indeed, as we drove down Bond Street, where Sara had some glittering little toy to purchase, I reiterated my intention of not calling at Hyde Park Mansions.

‘I do not want any tea,’ I said wearily, ’and I would rather go home.  Give my love to Lesbia; I will see her another day.’

‘Lesbia will be hurt,’ remonstrated Sara.  ’What a little misanthrope you are, Ursula!  St. Thomas’s has injured you socially; you have become a hermit-crab all at once, and it is such nonsense at your age.’

‘Oh, let me be, Sara!’ I pleaded; ’I am tired, and Lesbia always chatters so; and Mrs. Fullerton is worse.  Besides, did you not tell me she was coming to dine with us this evening?’

’Yes, to be sure; but she wanted us to meet the Percy Glyns.  Mirrel and Winifred Glyn are to be there this afternoon.  Never mind, Lesbia will understand when I say you are in one of your ridiculous moods.’  And Sara hummed a little tune gaily, as though she meant no offence by her words and was disposed to let me go my own way.

‘The carriage can take you home, Ursula; we can walk those few yards,’ observed Aunt Philippa, as she descended leisurely, and Sara tripped after her, still humming.  But I took no notice of her words:  I had had enough dulness and decorum to last me for some time, and the Black Prince and his consort Bay might find their way to their own stables without depositing me at the front door of the house at Hyde Park Gate.  I told Clarence so, to his great astonishment, and walked across the road in an opposite direction to home, as though my feet were winged with quicksilver.