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!'
