Mary looked down, blushing deep red.
"I can never hate you," she whispered.
"Oh, Mary, can you forgive me? Can you forget? It sounds almost impertinent to ask you again--Will you marry me, Mary?"
She withdrew her hand.
"It's very kind of you, Jamie. You're only asking me out of gratitude, because I've helped a little to look after you. But I want no gratitude; it was all pleasure. And I'm only too glad that you're getting well."
"I'm perfectly in earnest, Mary. I wouldn't ask you merely from gratitude. I know I have humiliated you dreadfully, and I have done my best to kill the love you had for me. But I really honestly love you now--with all my heart. If you still care for me a little, I beseech you not to dismiss me."
"If I still care for you!" cried Mary, hoarsely. "Oh, my God!"
"Mary, forgive me! I want you to marry me."
She looked at him distractedly, the fire burning through her heart. He took both her hands and drew her towards him.
"Mary, say yes."
She sank helplessly to her knees beside him.
"It would make me very happy," she murmured, with touching humility.
Then he bent forward and kissed her tenderly.
"Let's go and tell them," he said. "They'll be so pleased."
Mary, smiling and joyful, helped him to his feet, and supporting him as best she could, they went towards the house.
Colonel Parsons was sitting in the dining-room, twirling his old Panama in a great state of excitement; he had interrupted his wife at her accounts, and she was looking at him good-humouredly over her spectacles.
"I'm sure something's happening," he said. "I went out to take Jamie his beef-tea, and he was holding Mary's hand. I coughed as loud as I could, but they took no notice at all. So I thought I'd better not disturb them."
"Here they come," said Mrs. Parsons.
"Mother," said James, "Mary has something to tell you."
"I haven't anything of the sort!" cried Mary, blushing and laughing. "Jamie has something to tell you."
"Well, the fact is, I've asked Mary to marry me and she's said she would."
XIX
James was vastly relieved. His people's obvious delight, Mary's quiet happiness, were very grateful to him, and if he laughed at himself a little for feeling so virtuous, he could not help thoroughly enjoying the pleasure he had given. He was willing to acknowledge now that his conscience had been uneasy after the rupture of his engagement: although he had assured himself so vehemently that reason was upon his side, the common disapproval, and the influence of all his bringing-up, had affected him in his own despite.
"When shall we get married, Mary?" he asked, when the four of them were sitting together in the garden.
"Quickly!" cried Colonel Parsons.
"Well, shall we say in a month, or six weeks?"
"D'you think you'll be strong enough?" replied Mary, looking affectionately at him. And then, blushing a little: "I can get ready very soon."
The night before, she had gone home and taken out the trousseau which with tears had been put away. She smoothed out the things, unfolded them, and carefully folded them up. Never in her life had she possessed such dainty linen. Mary cried a while with pleasure to think that she could begin again to collect her little store. No one knew what agony it had been to write to the shops at Tunbridge Wells countermanding her orders, and now she looked forward with quiet delight to buying all that remained to get.
Finally, it was decided that the wedding should take place at the beginning of October. Mrs. Parsons wrote to her brother, who answered that he had expected the event all along, being certain that his conversation with James would eventually bear fruit. He was happy to be able to congratulate himself on the issue of his diplomacy; it was wonderful how easily all difficulties were settled, if one took them from the point of view of a man of the world. Mrs. Jackson likewise flattered herself that the renewed engagement was due to her intervention.
"I saw he was paying attention to what I said," she told her husband. "I knew all he wanted was a good, straight talking to."
"I am sorry for poor Dryland," said the Vicar.
"Yes, I think we ought to do our best to console him. Don't you think he might go away for a month, Archibald?"
Mr. Dryland came to tea, and the Vicar's wife surrounded him with little attentions. She put an extra lump of sugar in his tea, and cut him even a larger piece of seed-cake than usual.
"Of course you've heard, Mr. Dryland?" she said, solemnly.
"Are you referring to Miss Clibborn's engagement to Captain Parsons?" he asked, with a gloomy face. "Bad news travels fast."
"You have all our sympathies. We did everything we could for you."
"I can't deny that it's a great blow to me. I confess I thought that time and patience on my part might induce Miss Clibborn to change her mind. But if she's happy, I cannot complain. I must bear my misfortune with resignation."
"But will she be happy?" asked Mrs. Jackson, with foreboding in her voice.
"I sincerely hope so. Anyhow, I think it my duty to go to Captain Parsons and offer him my congratulations."
"Will you do that, Mr. Dryland?" cried Mrs. Jackson. "That is noble of you!"
"If you'd like to take your holiday now, Dryland," said the Vicar, "I daresay we can manage it."
"Oh, no, thanks; I'm not the man to desert from the field of battle."
Mrs. Jackson sighed.
"Things never come right in this world. That's what I always say; the clergy are continually doing deeds of heroism which the world never hears anything about."
The curate went to Primpton House and inquired whether he might see Captain Parsons.
"I'll go and ask if he's well enough," answered the Colonel, with his admirable respect for the cloth.
"Do you think he wants to talk to me about my soul?" asked James, smiling.
"I don't know; but I think you'd better see him."
"Very well."
Mr. Dryland came forward and shook hands with James in an ecclesiastical and suave manner, trying to be dignified, as behoved a rejected lover in the presence of his rival, and at the same time cordial, as befitted a Christian who could bear no malice.
"Captain Parsons, you will not be unaware that I asked Miss Clibborn to be my wife?"
"The fact was fairly generally known in the village," replied James, trying to restrain a smile.
Mr. Dryland blushed.
"I was annoyed at the publicity which the circumstance obtained. The worst of these little places is that people will talk."
"It was a very noble deed," said James gravely, repeating the common opinion.
"Not at all," answered the curate, with characteristic modesty. "But since it was not to be, since Miss Clibborn's choice has fallen on you, I think it my duty to inform you of my hearty goodwill. I wish, in short, to offer you again my sincerest congratulations."
"I'm