lf-satisfaction; and he wanted to say something that should wound her
to the quick. And all the time he laughed and jested as though he were
in the highest spirits.

"And what were you doing this morning, Mary?" asked Colonel Parsons.

"Oh, I biked in to Tunbridge Wells with Mr. Dryland to play golf. He
plays a rattling good game."

"Did he beat you?"

"Well, no," she answered, modestly. "It so happened that I beat him. But
he took his thrashing remarkably well--some men get so angry when
they're beaten by a girl."

"The curate has many virtues," said James.

"He was talking about you, Jamie. He said he thought you disliked him;
but I told him I was certain you didn't. He's really such a good man,
one can't help liking him. He said he'd like to teach you golf."

"And is he going to?"

"Certainly not. I mean to do that myself."

"There are many things you want to teach me, Mary. You'll have your
hands full."

"Oh, by the way, father told me to remind you and Uncle William that you
were shooting with him the day after to-morrow. You're to fetch him at
ten."

"I hadn't forgotten," replied James. "Uncle William, we shall have to
clean our guns to-morrow."

James had come to a decision at last, and meant to waste no time;
indeed, there was none to waste. And to remind him how near was the date
fixed for the wedding were the preparations almost complete. One or two
presents had already arrived. With all his heart he thanked his father
and mother for having made the way easier for him. He thought what he
was about to do the kindest thing both to them and to Mary. Under no
circumstances could he marry her; that would be adding a greater lie to
those which he had already been forced into, and the misery was more
than he could bear. But his death was the only other way of satisfying
her undoubted claims. He had little doubt that in six months he would be
as well forgotten as poor Reggie Larcher, and he did not care; he was
sick of the whole business, and wanted the quiet of death. His love for
Mrs. Wallace would never give him peace upon earth; it was utterly
futile, and yet unconquerable.

James saw his opportunity in Colonel Clibborn's invitation to shoot; he
was most anxious to make the affair seem accidental, and that, in
cleaning his gun, was easy. He had been wounded before and knew that the
pain was not very great. He had, therefore, nothing to fear.

Now at last he regained his spirits. He did not read o