two teaspoonfuls
of water for the space of half a minute, and held it to my mouth.

"I am like Rebecca at the well. Drink, Eleazer," she cried, gaily.

John looked on. "I am very thirsty, too," said he, in a low voice.

The young girl hesitated a moment; then filled and offered to him the
Arcadian cup. I fear he drank out of it a deeper and more subtle
draught than that innocent water.

Both became somewhat grave, and stood, one on either side the stream,
looking down upon it, letting its bubbling murmur have all the talk.
What it said I know not: I only know that it did not, could not, say
to those two what it said to me.

When we took leave of our acquaintances Mr. March was extremely
courteous, and declared our society would always be a pleasure to
himself and his daughter.

"He always says so formally, 'my daughter,'" I observed, breaking the
silence in which they had left us. "I wonder what her Christian name
is."

"I believe it is Ursula."

"How did you find that out?"

"It is written in one of her books."

"Ursula!" I repeated, wondering where I had heard it before. "A pretty
name."

"A very pretty name."

When John fell into this echo mood I always found it best to fall into
taciturnity.

CHAPTER XIII

Next day, the rain poured down incessantly, sweeping blindingly across
the hills as I have rarely seen it sweep except at Enderley. The
weather had apparently broken up, even thus early in the autumn; and
for that day, and several days following, we had nothing but wind,
rain, and storm. The sky was as dusky as Miss March's grey gown;
broken sometimes in the evening by a rift of misty gold, gleaming over
Nunnely Hill, as if to show us what September sunsets might have been.

John went every day to Norton Bury that week. His mind seemed
restless--he was doubly kind and attentive to me; but every night I
heard him go out in all the storm to walk upon the common. I longed to
follow him, but it was best not.

On the Saturday morning, coming to breakfast, I heard him ask Mrs. Tod
how Mr. March was? We knew the invalid had been ailing all the week,
nor had we seen him or his daughter once.

Mrs. Tod shook her head ominously. "He is very bad, sir; badder than
ever, I do think. She sits up wi' him best part of every night."

"I imagined so. I have seen her light burning."

"Law, Mr. Halifax! you don't be walking abroad of nights on the Flat?
It's terrible bad for your health," c