ns was a man who made
people love him by a modesty which seemed to claim nothing. He was like
a child compelling sympathy on account of its utter helplessness, so
unsuited to the wear and tear of life that he aroused his fellows'
instincts of protection.

And James knew besides what a bitter humiliation it was to his father
that he had been forced to leave the service. He remembered, like a
deadly, incurable pain suffered by a friend, the occasion on which the
old soldier had told him the cause of his disgrace, a sweat of agony
standing on his brow. The scene had eaten into Jamie's mind alongside of
that other when he had first watched a man die, livid with pain, his
eyes glazed and sightless. He had grown callous to such events since
then.

Colonel Parsons had come to grief on account of the very kindness of
heart, on account of the exquisite humanity which endeared him to the
most casual acquaintance. James swore that he would do anything to save
him from needless suffering. Nor did he forget his mother, for through
the harder manner he saw her gentleness and tender love. He knew that
he was all in the world to both of them, that in his hands lay their
happiness and their misery. Their love made them feel every act of his
with a force out of reason to the circumstance. He had seen in their
letters, piercing through the assumed cheerfulness, a mortal anxiety
when he was in danger, an anguish of mind that seemed hardly bearable.
They had gone through so much for his sake; they deprived themselves of
luxury, so that, in the various expenses of his regiment, he should not
need to economise. All his life they had surrounded him with loving
care. And what their hearts were set upon now was that he should marry
Mary Clibborn quickly.

James turned from the window and put his head between his hands, swaying
to and fro.

"Oh, I can't," he groaned; "I can't!"

III

In the morning, after breakfast, James went for a walk. He wanted to
think out clearly what he had better do, feeling that he must make up
his mind at once. Hesitation would be fatal, and yet to speak
immediately seemed so cruel, so brutally callous.

Wishing to be absolutely alone, he wandered through the garden to a
little wood of beech-trees, which in his boyhood had been a favourite
haunt. The day was fresh and sweet after the happy rain of April, the
sky so clear that it affected one like a very beautiful action.

James stood still when he cam