'Yes, yes, you are like her, Ursula. You have got just the same quiet way. Your voice always reminds me of hers. She was a dear, good sister to me, more like a mother than a sister. I think if she had lived she would have been a great comfort to me now, Ursula.' 'I know I am not so good as my mother, but I should like to be a comfort to you in her place.' I suppose Max's ear detected the suppressed pain in my voice, for as he looked at me his manner changed; the old affectionate smile came to his lips, and he put his hands lightly on me, as though to keep me near him. 'You have been a comfort to me, my dear. You and I have always understood each other. I think you are as good as gold, Ursula.' 'Then why not trust me, Max? Why not tell me what makes you so unhappy?' 'Little she-bear,' he said, still smiling, 'you must not begin to growl at me after this fashion, because I am somewhat hipped and want a change. There is no need to be anxious about me. A man in my position must have his own and other people's difficulties to bear. No, no, my dear, you have a wise head, but you are too young to take my burdens on your shoulders. What should you know about an old bachelor's worries?' 'An old bachelor,' I returned indignantly, 'when you know you are young and handsome, Max! How can you talk such nonsense?' I could see he was amused at this. 'You must not expect me to believe that; a man is no judge of his own looks: but I never thought much about such things myself. I detest the notion of a handsome parson. There, we will dismiss the subject of your humble servant. I want to ask you a favour, Ursula.' And then I knew that all my coaxing had been in vain, and that he did not mean to tell me what troubled him and made him look so pinched and worn. But, in spite of this preface, he kept me waiting for a long time, while he sat silently looking into the fire and stroking his brown beard. 'Ursula,' he began at last, still gazing into the red cavern of coals, as though he saw visions there, 'I want you and Miss Hamilton to be great friends. I am sure that she has taken to you, and she likes few people, and it will be very good for her to be with you.' Max's speech took me somewhat by surprise. I had not expected him to mention Miss Hamilton's name. 'She is not happy,' he went on, 'and she is more lonely than other girls of her age. Miss Elizabeth is a nice bright little thing, but, as Lawrence says, she wants ballast; she is a child compared to Gladys,--Miss Hamilton, I mean.' And here Max stammered a little nervously. 'No, you are right, she is not happy,' I returned quietly; 'she gives me the impression that she has known some great trouble.'