best of her youth—and he jilts her. He can't, Frances; he must behave like a gentleman."
The tears fell down Mrs. Parsons' careworn cheeks—the slow, sparse tears of the woman who has endured much sorrow.
"Don't let us judge him, Richmond. We're so ignorant of the world. You and I are old-fashioned."
"There are no fashions in honesty."
"Let us send for William. Perhaps he'll be able to advise us."
William was Major Forsyth, the brother of Mrs. Parsons. He was a bachelor, living in London, and considered by his relatives a typical man of the world.
"He'll be able to talk to the boy better than we can."
"Very well, let us send for him."
They were both overcome by the catastrophe, but as yet hardly grasped the full extent of it. All their hopes had been centred on this marriage; all their plans for the future had been in it so intricately woven that they could not realise the total over-throw. They felt as a man might feel who was crippled by a sudden accident, and yet still pictured his life as though he had free use of his limbs.... Mrs. Parsons wrote a telegram, and gave it to the maid. The servant went out of the room, but as she did so, stepped back and announced:
"Miss Clibborn, ma'am."
"Mary!"
The girl came in, and lifted the veil which she had put on to hide her pallor and her eyes, red and heavy with weeping.
"I thought I'd better come round and see you quietly," she said. "I suppose you've heard?"
"Mary, Mary!"
Mrs. Parsons took her in her arms, kissing her tenderly. Mary pretended to laugh, and hastily dried the tears which came to her eyes.
"You've been crying, Mrs. Parsons. You mustn't do that.... Let us sit down and talk sensibly."
She took the Colonel's hand, and gently pressed it.
"Is it true, Mary?" he asked. "I can't believe it."
"Yes, it's quite true. We've decided that we don't wish to marry one another. I want to ask you not to think badly of Jamie. He's very—cut up about it. He's not to blame."
"We're thinking of you, my dear."
"Oh, I shall be all right. I can bear it."
"It's not honourable what he's done, Mary," said the Colonel.
"Oh, don't say that, please! That is why I came round to you quickly. I want you to think that Jamie did what he considered right. For my sake, don't think ill of him. He can't help it if he doesn't love me. I'm not very attractive; he must have known in India girls far nicer than I. How could I hope to keep him all these years? I was a fool to expect it."
"I am so sorry, Mary!" cried Mrs. Parsons. "We've looked forward to your marriage with all our hearts. You know Jamie's been a good son to us; he's never given us any worry. We did want him to marry you. We're so fond of you, and we know how really good you are. We felt that whatever happened after that—if we died—Jamie would be safe and happy."
"It can't be helped. Things never turn out in this world as one wants them. Don't be too distressed about it, and, above all things, don't let Jamie see that you think he hasn't acted—as he might have done."
"How can you think of him now, when your heart must be almost breaking?"
"You see, I've thought of him for years," answered Mary, smiling sadly. "I can't help it now. Oh, I don't want him to suffer! His worrying can do no good, I should like him to be completely happy."
Colonel Parsons sighed.
"He's my son, and he's behaved dishonourably."
"Don't say that. It's not fair to him. He did not ask me for his release. But I couldn't marry him when I knew he no longer cared for me."
"He might have learned to love you, Mary," said Mrs. Parsons.
"No, no! I could see, as he pressed me to marry him notwithstanding, he was hoping with all his might that I would refuse. He would have hated me. No; it's the end. We have separated for ever, and I will do my best to get over it."
They fell into silence, and presently Mary got up. "I must go home now, and tell mamma."
"She'll probably have hysterics," said Mrs. Parsons, with a little sniff of contempt.
"No, she'll be delighted," returned Mary. "I know her so well."
"Oh, how much you will have to suffer, dearest!"
"It'll do me good. I was too happy."
"Don't you think you could wait a little before telling anyone else?" asked the Colonel. "Major Forsyth is coming down. He may be able to arrange it; he's a man of the world."
"Can he make Jamie love me? Ah, no, it's no good waiting. Let me get it over quickly while I have the courage. And it helps me to think I have something to do. It only means a few sneers and a little false sympathy."
"A great deal of real sympathy."
"People are always rather glad when some unhappiness befalls their friends! Oh, I didn't mean that! I don't want to be bitter. Don't think badly of me either. I shall be different to-morrow."
"We can never think of you without the sincerest, fondest love."
At that moment James, who did not know that Mary was there, came into the room. He started when he saw her and turned red; but Mary, with a woman's self-possession, braced herself together.
"Oh, Jamie, I've just been having a little chat with your people."
"I'm sorry I interrupted you," he answered, awkwardly. "I didn't know you were here."
"You need not avoid me because we've broken off our engagement. At all events, you have no reason to be afraid of me now. Good-bye! I'm just going home."
She went out, and James looked uncertainly at his parents. His father did not speak, staring at the ground, but Mrs. Parsons said:
"Mary has been asking us not to be angry with you, Jamie. She says it's not your fault."
"It's very kind of her."
"Oh, how could you? How could you?"
XI
Not till luncheon was nearly finished did Mary brace herself for the further ordeal, and in a steady, unmoved voice tell Colonel and Mrs. Clibborn what had happened. The faded beauty merely smiled, and lifted her eyes to the chandelier with the expression that had melted the hearts of a thousand and one impressionable subalterns.
"I knew it," she murmured; "I knew it! You can't deceive a woman and a mother."
But
