"But a young man doesn't want to be steadied. Let him see life and taste all it has to offer. It is wicked to put fetters on his wrists before ever he has seen anything worth taking. What is the virtue that exists only because temptation is impossible!" "I can't understand you, Jamie," said Mrs. Parsons, sadly. "You talk so differently from when you were a boy." "Did you expect me to remain all my life an ignorant child. You've never given me any freedom. You've hemmed me in with every imaginable barrier. You've put me on a leading-string, and thanked God that I did not stray." "We tried to bring you up like a good man, and a true Christian." "If I'm not a hopeless prig, it's only by miracle." "James, that's not the way to talk to your mother," said Major Forsyth. "Oh, mother, I'm sorry; I don't want to be unkind to you. But we must talk things out freely; we've lived in a hot-house too long." "I don't know what you mean. You became engaged to Mary of your own free will; we did nothing to hinder it, nothing to bring it about. But I confess we were heartily thankful, thinking that no influence could be better for you than the love of a pure, sweet English girl." "It would have been kinder and wiser if you had forbidden it." "We could not have taken the responsibility of crossing your affections." "Mrs. Clibborn did." "Could you expect us to be guided by her?" "She was the only one who showed the least common sense." "How you have changed, Jamie!" "I would have obeyed you if you had told me I was too young to become engaged. After all, you are more responsible than I am. I was a child. It was cruel to let me bind myself." "I never thought you would speak to us like that." "All that's ancient history," said Major Forsyth, with what he flattered himself was a very good assumption of jocularity. It was his idea to treat the matter lightly, as a man of the world naturally would. But his interruption was unnoticed. "We acted for the best. You know that we have always had your interests at heart." James did not speak, for his only answer would have been bitter. Throughout, they had been unwilling to let him live his own life, but desirous rather that he should live theirs. They loved him tyrannically, on the condition that he should conform to all their prejudices. Though full of affectionate kindness, they wished him always to dance to their piping--a marionette of which they pulled the strings. "What would you have me do?" "Keep your word, James," answered his father. "I can't, I can't! I don't understand how you can wish me to marry Mary Clibborn when I don't love her. _That_ seems to me dishonourable." "It would be nothing worse than a _mariage de convenance_," said Uncle William. "Many people marry in that sort of way, and are perfectly happy." "I couldn't," said James. "That seems to me nothing better than prostitution. It is no worse for a street-walker to sell her body to any that care to buy."