The pain in her eyes was more than James could bear; it was cruel to make her suffer so much. He could not do it. He felt an intense pity, and the idea came to him that there might be a middle way, which would lessen the difficulty. He hesitated a moment, and then, looking down, spoke in a low voice: "I am anxious to do my duty, Mary. I have promised to marry you. I do not wish to break my word. I don't ask you to release me. Will you take what I can offer? I will be a good husband to you. I will do all I can to make you happy. I can give you affection and confidence--friendship; but I can't give you love. It is much better that I should tell you than that you should find out painfully by yourself--perhaps when it is too late." "You came to ask me to release you. Why do you hesitate now? Do you think I shall refuse?" James was silent. "You cannot think that I will accept a compromise. Do you suppose that because I am a woman I am not made of flesh and blood? You said you wished to be frank." "I had not thought of the other way till just now." "Do you imagine that it softens the blow? How could I live with you as your wife, and yet not your wife? What are affection and esteem to me without love? You must think me a very poor creature, James, when you want to make me a sort of legal housekeeper." "I'm sorry. I didn't think you would look upon it as an impertinence. I didn't mean to say anything offensive. It struck me as a possible way out of the difficulty. You would, at all events, be happier than you are here." "It is you who despise me now!" "Mary!" "I can bear pain. It's not the first humiliation I have suffered. It is very simple, and there's no reason why we should make a fuss about it. You thought you loved me, and you asked me to marry you. I don't know whether you ever really loved me; you certainly don't now, and you wish me to release you. You know that I cannot and will not refuse." "I see no way out of it, Mary," he said, hoarsely. "I wish to God I did! It's frightfully cruel to you." "I can bear it. I don't blame you. It's not your fault. God will give me strength." Mary thought of her mother's cruel sympathy. Her parents would have to be told that James had cast her aside like a plaything he was tired of. "God will give me strength." "I'm so sorry, Mary," cried James, kneeling by her side. "You'll have to suffer dreadfully; and I can't think how to make it any better for you." "There is no way. We must tell them the whole truth, and let them say what they will." "Would you like me to go away from Primpton?" "Why?" "It might make it easier for you." "Nothing can make it easier. I can face it out. And I don't want you to run away and hide yourself as if you had done something to be ashamed of. And your people want you. Oh, Jamie, you will be as gentle with them as you can, won't you? I'm afraid it will--disappoint them very much." "They had set their hearts upon our marriage."