m Mrs. Clibborn to General Sir Charles Clow, K.C.B., 8
Gladhorn Terrace, Bath:

"DEAR CHARLES,--I am so glad to hear you are settled in your new
house in Bath, and it is _most_ kind to ask us down. I am devoted
to Bath; one meets such _nice_ people there, and all one's friends
whom one knew centuries ago. It is such a comfort to see how
fearfully old they're looking! I don't know whether we can manage
to accept your kind invitation, but I must say I should be glad of
a change after the truly _awful_ things that have happened here. I
have been dreadfully upset all the winter, and have had several
touches of rheumatism, which is a thing I never suffered from
before.

"I wrote and told you of the sudden and _mysterious_ death of poor
James Parsons, a fortnight before he was going to marry my dear
Mary. He shot himself accidentally while cleaning a gun--that is to
say, every one _thinks_ it was an accident. But I am certain it
was nothing of the kind. Ever since the dreadful thing
happened--six months ago--it has been on my conscience, and I
assure you that the whole time I have not slept a wink. My
sufferings have been _horrible_! You will be surprised at the
change in me; I am beginning to look like an _old_ woman. I tell
you this in strict confidence. _I believe he committed suicide._ He
confessed that he loved me, Charles. Of course, I told him I was
old enough to be his mother; but love is blind. When I think of the
tragic end of poor Algy Turner, who poisoned himself in India for
my sake, I don't know how I shall ever forgive myself. I never gave
James the least encouragement, and when he said that he loved me, I
was so taken aback that I _nearly fainted_. I am convinced that he
shot himself rather than marry a woman he did not love, and what is
more, _my_ daughter. You can imagine my feelings! I have taken care
not to breathe a word of this to Reginald, whose gout is making him
more irritable every day, or to anyone else. So no one suspects the
truth.

"But I shall never get over it. I could not bear to think of poor
Algy Turner, and now I have on my head as well the blood of James
Parsons. They were dear boys, both of them. I think I am the only
one who is really sorry for him. If it had been my son who was
killed I should either have g