Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; South African War, 1899-1902 -- Fiction
"It's his duty to marry her. She's waited five years; she's given him
the best of her youth--and he jilts her. He can't, Frances; he must
behave like a gentleman."
The tears fell down Mrs. Parsons' careworn cheeks--the slow, sparse
tears of the woman who has endured much sorrow.
"Don't let us judge him, Richmond. We're so ignorant of the world. You
and I are old-fashioned."
"There are no fashions in honesty."
"Let us send for William. Perhaps he'll be able to advise us."
William was Major Forsyth, the brother of Mrs. Parsons. He was a
bachelor, living in London, and considered by his relatives a typical
man of the world.
"He'll be able to talk to the boy better than we can."
"Very well, let us send for him."
They were both overcome by the catastrophe, but as yet hardly grasped
the full extent of it. All their hopes had been centred on this
marriage; all their plans for the future had been in it so intricately
woven that they could not realise the total over-throw. They felt as a
man might feel who was crippled by a sudden accident, and yet still
pictured his life as though he had free use of his limbs.... Mrs.
Parsons wrote a telegram, and gave it to the maid. The servant went out
of the room, but as she did so, stepped back and announced:
"Miss Clibborn, ma'am."
"Mary!"
The girl came in, and lifted the veil which she had put on to hide her
pallor and her eyes, red and heavy with weeping.
"I thought I'd better come round and see you quietly," she said. "I
suppose you've heard?"
"Mary, Mary!"
Mrs. Parsons took her in her arms, kissing her tenderly. Mary pretended
to laugh, and hastily dried the tears which came to her eyes.
"You've been crying, Mrs. Parsons. You mustn't do that.... Let us sit
down and talk sensibly."
She took the Colonel's hand, and gently pressed it.
"Is it true, Mary?" he asked. "I can't believe it."
"Yes, it's quite true. We've decided that we don't wish to marry one
another. I want to ask you not to think badly of Jamie. He's very--cut
up about it. He's not to blame."
"We're thinking of you, my dear."
"Oh, I shall be all right. I can bear it."
"It's not honourable what he's done, Mary," said the Colonel.
"Oh, don't say that, please! That is why I came round to you quickly. I
want you to think that Jamie did what he considered right. For my sake,
don't think ill of him. He can't help it if he doesn't love me. I'm not
very attractive; he must have known in India girls far nicer than I. How
could I hope to keep him all these years? I was a fool to expect it."
"I am so sorry, Mary!" cried Mrs. Parsons. "We've looked forward to your
marriage with all our hearts. You know Jamie's been a good son to us;
he's never given us any worry. We did want him to marry you. We're so
fond of you, and we know how really good you are. We felt that whatever
happened after that--if we died--Jamie would be safe and happy."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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