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James had found his uncle out when he was quite a boy, and seeing his absurdity, had treated him ever since with good-natured ridicule. "I wonder what they think he can say?" he asked himself. James was profoundly grieved at the unhappiness which bowed his father down. His parents had looked forward with such ecstatic pleasure to his arrival, and what sorrow had he not brought them! "I wish I'd never come back," he muttered. He thought of the flowing, undulating plains of the Orange Country, and the blue sky, with its sense of infinite freedom. In that trim Kentish landscape he felt hemmed in; when the clouds were low it seemed scarcely possible to breathe; and he suffered from the constraint of his father and mother, who treated him formally, as though he had become a stranger. There was always between them and him that painful topic which for the time was carefully shunned. They did not mention Mary's name, and the care they took to avoid it was more painful than would have been an open reference. They sat silent and sad, trying to appear natural, and dismally failing; their embarrassed manner was such as they might have adopted had he committed some crime, the mention of which for his sake must never be made, but whose recollection perpetually haunted them. In every action was the belief that James must be suffering from remorse, and that it was their duty not to make his burden heavier. James knew that his father was convinced that he had acted dishonourably, and he--what did he himself think? James asked himself a hundred times a day whether he had acted well or ill; and though he forced himself to answer that he had done the only possible thing, deep down in his heart was a terrible, a perfectly maddening uncertainty. He tried to crush it, and would not listen, for his intelligence told him clearly it was absurd; but it was stronger than intelligence, an incorporeal shape through which passed harmlessly the sword-cuts of his reason. It was a little devil curled up in his heart, muttering to all his arguments, "Are you sure?" Sometimes he was nearly distracted, and then the demon laughed, so that the mocking shrillness rang in his ears: "Are you sure, my friend--are you sure? And where, pray, is the honour which only a while ago you thought so much of?"

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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?"