on his shoulder and
obliged him to look at me.

'It is not only a headache. You are unhappy about something; as though
I do not see that. Max, you know we have always been like brother and
sister, and I want you to tell me what has grieved you.'

That touched him, as I knew it would, for he had dearly loved his sister.

'I wish your mother were here now,' he returned, in a moved voice. 'I
wish poor Emmie were here: there were not many women like her. One could
have trusted her with anything.'

'I think I am to be trusted too, Max.'

'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