James felt no relief. He had looked forward to a sensation of freedom such as a man might feel when he had escaped from some tyrannous servitude, and was at liberty again to breathe the buoyant air of heaven. He imagined that his depression would vanish like an evil spirit exorcised so soon as ever he got from Mary his release; but instead it sat more heavily upon him. Unconvinced even yet that he had acted rightly, he went over the conversation word for word. It seemed singularly ineffectual. Wishing to show Mary that he did not break with her from caprice or frivolous reason, but with sorrowful reluctance, and full knowledge of her suffering, he had succeeded only in being futile and commonplace.

He walked slowly towards Primpton House. He had before him the announcement to his mother and father; and he tried to order his thoughts.

Mrs. Parsons, her household work finished, was knitting the inevitable socks; while the Colonel sat at the table, putting new stamps into his album. He chattered delightedly over his treasures, getting up now and then gravely to ask his wife some question or to point out a surcharge; she, good woman, showed interest by appropriate rejoinders.

"There's no one in Tunbridge Wells who has such a fine collection as I have."

"General Newsmith showed me his the other day, but it's not nearly so good as yours, Richmond."

"I'm glad of that. I suppose his Mauritius are fine?" replied the Colonel, with some envy, for the general had lived several years on the island.

"They're fair," said Mrs. Parsons, reassuringly; "but not so good as one would expect."

"It takes a clever man to get together a good collection of stamps, although I shouldn't say it."

They looked up when James entered.

"I've just been putting in those Free States you brought me, Jamie. They look very well."

The Colonel leant back to view them, with the satisfied look with which he might have examined an old master.

"It was very thoughtful of Jamie to bring them," said Mrs. Parsons.

"Ah, I knew he wouldn't forget his old father. Don't you remember, Frances, I said to you, 'I'll be bound the boy will bring some stamps with him.' They'll be valuable in a year or two. That's what I always say with regard to postage stamps; you can't waste your money. Now jewellery, for instance, gets old-fashioned, and china breaks; but you run no risk with stamps. When I buy stamps, I really feel that I'm as good as investing my money in consols."

"Well, how's Mary this morning?"

"I've been having a long talk with her."

"Settled the day yet?" asked the Colonel, with a knowing little laugh.

"No!"

"Upon my word, Frances, I think we shall have to settle it for them. Things weren't like this when we were young. Why, Jamie, your mother and I got married six weeks after I was introduced to her at a croquet party."

"We were married in haste, Richmond," said Mrs. Parsons, laughing.

"Well, we've taken a long time to repent of it, my dear. It's over thirty years."

"I fancy it's too late now."

The Colonel took her hand and patted it.

"If you get such a good wife as I have, Jamie, I don't think you'll have reason to complain. Will he, my dear?"

"It's not for me to say, Richmond," replied Mrs. Parsons, smiling contentedly.

"Do you want me to get married very much, father?"

"Of course I do. I've set my heart upon it. I want to see what the new generations of Parsons are like before I die."

"Listen, Richmond, Jamie has something to tell us."

Mrs. Parsons had been looking at her son, and was struck at last by the agony of his expression.

"What is it, Jamie?" she asked.

"I'm afraid you'll be dreadfully disappointed. I'm so sorry--Mary and I are no longer engaged to be married."

For a minute there was silence in the room. The old Colonel looked helplessly from wife to son.

"What does he mean, Frances?" he said at last.

Mrs. Parsons did not answer, and he turned to James.

"You're not in earnest, Jamie? You're joking with us?"

James went over to his father, as the weaker of the two, and put his arm round his shoulders.

"I'm awfully sorry to have to grieve you, father. It's quite true--worse luck! It was impossible for me to marry Mary."

"D'you mean that you've broken your engagement with her after she's waited five years for you?" said Mrs. Parsons.

"I couldn't do anything else. I found I no longer loved her. We should both have been unhappy if we had married."

The Colonel recovered himself slowly, he turned round and looked at his son.

"Jamie, Jamie, what have you done?"

"Oh, you can say nothing that I've not said to myself. D'you think it's a step I should have taken lightly? I feel nothing towards Mary but friendship. I don't love her."

"But--" the Colonel stopped, and then a light shone in his face, and he began to laugh. "Oh, it's only a lovers' quarrel, Frances. They've had a little tiff, and they say they'll never speak to one another again. I warrant they're both heartily sorry already, and before night they'll be engaged as fast as ever."

James, by a look, implored his mother to speak. She understood, and shook her head sadly.

"No, Richmond, I'm afraid it's not that. It's serious."

"But Mary loves him, Frances."

"I know," said James. "That's the tragedy of it. If I could only persuade myself that she didn't care for me, it would be all right."

Colonel Parsons sank into his chair, suddenly collapsing. He seemed smaller than ever, wizened and frail; the wisp of white hair that concealed his baldness fell forward grotesquely. His face assumed again that expression, which was almost habitual, of anxious fear.

"Oh, father, don't look like that! I can't help it! Don't make it harder for me than possible. You talk to him, mother. Explain that it's not my fault. There was nothing else I could do."

Colonel Parsons sat silent, with his head bent down, but Mrs. Parsons asked:

"What did you say to Mary this morning?"

"I told her exactly what I felt."

"You said you didn't love her?"

"I had to."

"Poor thing!"

They all remained for a while without speaking, each one thinking his painful thoughts.

"Richmond," said Mrs. Parsons at last, "we mustn't blame the boy. It's not his fault. He can't help it if he doesn't love her."

"You wouldn't have me marry her without love, father?"

The question was answered by Mrs. Parsons.

"No; if you don't love her, you mustn't marry her. But what's to be done, I don't know. Poor thing, poor thing, how unhappy she must be!"

James sat with his face in his hands, utterly wretched, beginning already to see the great circle of confusion that he had caused. Mrs. Parsons looked at him and looked at her husband. Presently she went ............