She sank by the parapet, with her face on the stone, and then nothing disturbed the breathless silence but one sudden, suddenly arrested moan.
When Ursula came down next morning there were circles under her eyes. Yet she had slept peacefully enough towards dawn. It must have been the merest accident that Aunt Louisa noticed—for the first time, she declared—some faint suggestion of gray about her niece’s brown ripple of hair.
“I am going to town on business,” said Ursula, “so I shall want the carriage, if you please.”
“Dear me, how annoying!” exclaimed Tante Louisa. “I had been wanting to drive across to Mevrouw Noks, and arrange about Tryphena. You’re sure you couldn’t select another day?”
“Quite sure,” answered Ursula, cutting bread. “It is business which can’t be put off.”
“Well, that’s very provoking. But if you’re going to town you must bring me some floss-silk from the Berlin-wool shop.”
“I am going to the Hague,” answered Ursula.
“The Hague? Oh, you’re sure to be able to match it there. I must give you a bit to take with you.” Tante Louisa felt aggrieved, for did she not pay her “pension”?