e said. "You might make
yourself pleasant."

"I can't," he said, gravely. "Let me go away. You don't know what I've
felt for you. In my madness, I fancied that you must realise my love; I
thought even that you might care for me a little in return."

"You're quite the nicest boy I've ever known. I like you immensely."

"But you like the landed proprietor better. You're very wise. He can
marry you. Good-bye!"

"I don't want you to think I'm horrid," she said, going up to him and
taking his arm. It was an instinct with her to caress people and make
them fond of her. "After all, it's not my fault."

"Have I blamed you? I'm sorry; I had no right to."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know--I can always shoot myself if things get unendurable.
Thank God, there's always that refuge!"

"Oh, I hope you won't do anything silly!"

"It would be unlike me," James murmured, grimly. "I'm so dreadfully
prosaic and matter-of-fact. Good-bye!"

Mrs. Wallace was really sorry for James, and she took his hand
affectionately. She always thought it cost so little to be amiable.

"We may never meet again," she said; "but we shall still be friends,
Jim."

"Are you going to say that you'll be a sister to me, as Mary told the
curate?"

"Won't you kiss me before you go?"

James shook his head, not trusting himself to answer. The light in his
life had all gone; the ray of sunshine was hidden; the heavy clouds had
closed in, and all the rest was darkness. But he tried to smile at Mrs.
Wallace as he touched her hand; he hardly dared look at her again,
knowing from old experience how every incident and every detail of her
person would rise tormentingly before his recollection. But at last he
pulled himself together.

"I'm sorry I've made a fool of myself," he said, quietly. "I hope you'll
be very happy. Please forget all I've said to you. It was only nonsense.
Good-bye! I'll send you a bit of my wedding-cake."

XXI

James was again in Little Primpton, ill at ease and unhappy. The scene
with Mrs. Wallace had broken his spirit, and he was listless now,
indifferent to what happened; the world had lost its colour and the sun
its light. In his quieter moments he had known that it was impossible
for her to care anything about him; he understood her character fairly
well, and realised that he had been only a toy, a pastime to a woman who
needed admiration as the breath of her nostrils. But notwithstanding,
some inner voice h