Ursula listened in amazement. She was not enough a student of human nature to explain her uncle’s change of front. She went and sat down on the bench beside her aunt, with a few kind words about the weather.
“Oh, beautiful!” gasped Mevrouw Mopius. “Jacóbus, don’t you think it is time we went home?”
Jacóbus assented, and in the midst of plans for to-morrow sought to impress upon Ursula the number and importance of his acquaintances as instanced by frequent salutes.
Ursula came upon her aunt alone in the drawing-room half an hour before dinner. The vast apartment was darkened to a mellow glow behind its yellow venetians. Mevrouw Mopius sat with closed eyes and cavernous cheeks before her unused frame. She stirred as the door opened, and beckoned her niece to her side.
“My dear,” she said in a faint voice, “come and sit by me for a minute. I have something to ask you.” Ursula obeyed. “Your uncle was speaking of the opera for to-morrow night. I want you to tell him you don’t care to go.”
“But I do care,” objected the girl. “I think it’s simply glorious. I’ve never been to the opera before.”
“My dear, I can assure you it’s not worth seeing. The singers make such a noise you can’t hear a word they say. Not that that matters, for they always say the same thing.”
“Oh, but I should like it,” repeated Ursula.
“Say, for my sake, that you don’t care to go.” Mevrouw Mopius’s manner became very nervous. “Ursula, I _can’t_ go out at night. Have you set your heart on this performance?”
“Yes, aunt,” said the girl, frankly; “but, even if I hadn’t, I shouldn’t know of any valid excuse. However, I can very well go with Harriet and uncle. I’ll tell him you’d rather not.”
Mevrouw Mopius clutched her arm. “Hold your tongue,” she said, quite roughly. “I didn’t want to have you here. I tell you so honestly. I knew it would be like this. It was Jacóbus. Poor fellow, I suppose he felt how dull the house was getting.” She paused meditatively. “He’d never go without me; he wouldn’t enjoy himself.”
“I’m sure I didn’t ask to come,” protested Ursula, “but now I’m here, I can’t begin inventing a parcel of lies. You must tell uncle yourself, aunt, please.”
Mevrouw Mopius tightened her grip till the nails dug into the flesh. She turned her dull eyes full on Ursula. “Girl,” she gasped, “what are you, with your little pleasures or prejudices to come athwart such a sorrow as mine? I’ll tell you my secret, if it must be. Swear, first, that you’ll not breathe it to a living soul.”