The doctor was out; Mrs.
Jessop I saw down the long garden, bonnetted and shawled, busy among her gooseberry-bushes--so we were safe.
As I have said, Ursula sat knitting, but her eyes had a soft dreaminess.

My entrance had evidently startled her, and driven some sweet, shy thought away.
But she met me cordially--said she was glad to see me--that she had not seen either of us lately; and the knitting pins began to move quickly again.
Those dainty fingers--that soft, tremulous smile--I could have hated her! "No wonder you did not see us, Miss March; John has been very ill, is ill now--almost dying." I hurled the words at her, sharp as javelins, and watched to see them strike.
They struck--they wounded; I could see her shiver.
"Ill!--and no one ever told me!" "You?
How could it affect you?
To me, now"-- and my savage words, for they were savage, broke down in a burst of misery--"nothing in this world to me is worth a straw in comparison with John.

If he dies--" I let loose the flood of my misery.

I dashed it over her, that she might see it--feel it; that it might enter all the fair and sightly chambers of her happy life, and make them desolate as mine.

For was she not the cause?
Forgive me! I was cruel to thee, Ursula; and thou wert so good--so kind! She rose, came to me, and took my hand.