Jesse Devereaux had never spent a more unpleasant half hour in his life than during Mrs. Clarke's visit. He admired and esteemed the gentle lady very much, and it pained him to tell her that he no longer loved her daughter, and was glad of his release. Yet he did so kindly and courteously, though he was well aware that no gentleness could really soften the blow to her love and pride. "I have been betrothed to your daughter only two weeks, dear madam, but in that short time I have discovered traits in her character that could never harmonize with mine. We have both been spoiled by indulgent parents; both are willful and headstrong. Such natures do best wedded to gentle, yielding ones. It is best for our future happiness that we should separate, although I should have kept faith with Roma, had she not yielded to her hasty temper and broken the engagement," he said. She looked at his pale, handsome face as he rested on the sofa, and decided that he was only holding out for pride's sake. Surely he must love beautiful Roma still--he could not hate her so soon. "Roma is not headstrong, as you think; only hasty and impulsive," she faltered. "See how she has humbled herself to you in the depths of her love. Why, I left her weeping most bitterly over her fault, and praying for your forgiveness. How can I go back and tell her you refuse it; that you scorn her love?" She was frightened, indeed, to return from an unsuccessful mission to Roma. There were tears in her imploring eyes as she gazed at him. "I do not refuse her my forgiveness; I accord it to her freely," he replied. "Neither do I scorn her love, but I do not believe it can be very deep, else she could not have been so angry with me last night. And I am free to confess that my love was not of the strongest, either, for I realize now that I am glad of my freedom, if you will pardon me for my frankness, dear lady." How could she pardon aught that must wound her daughter vitally? An angry flush rose into her cheek, her blue eyes flashed. "You are cruelly frank!" she cried; and he answered: "I lament the painful necessity, but circumstances leave me no alternative, Mrs. Clarke. I feel that I entered into an engagement too hastily, and that its sudden rupture is a relief. I tender my friendship to your daughter with profound gratitude for her kindness, but I can never again be her lover." In the face of such frankness she sat dumb. What was there to say that could move him? Her heart sank at the thought of Roma's disappointment. She rose unsteadily to her feet, blinded by angry tears. "I may still retain your friendship?" he pleaded, but her lip curled in scorn. "No, you are cruel and unjust to Roma. I despise you!" she answered, in wrath, as she stumbled from the room, wondering at his heartlessness.