"The easiest way to get through life is to say pleasant things on all possible occasions."
"That is not my way, and that is not the right way."
"I think it rash to conclude that a course is right merely because it is difficult. Likewise an uncivil speech is not necessarily a true one."
"I repeat that I did not come here to bandy words with you."
"My dear Mrs. Jackson, I have been wondering why you did not come to the point at once."
"You have been wilfully interrupting me."
"I'm so sorry. I thought I had been making a series of rather entertaining observations."
"Captain Parsons, what does your conscience say to you about Mary Clibborn?"
James looked at Mrs. Jackson very coolly, and she never imagined with what difficulty he was repressing himself.
"I thought you said your subject was of national concern. Upon my word, I thought you proposed to hold a thanksgiving service in Little Primpton Church for the success of the British arms."
"Well, you know different now," retorted Mrs. Jackson, with distinct asperity. "I look upon your treatment of Mary Clibborn as a matter which concerns us all."
"Then, as politely as possible, I must beg to differ from you. I really cannot permit you to discuss my private concerns. You have, doubtless, much evil to say of me; say it behind my back."
"I presumed that you were a gentleman, Captain Parsons."
"You certainly presumed."
"And I should be obliged if you would treat me like a lady."
James smiled. He saw that it was folly to grow angry.
"We'll do our best to be civil to one another, Mrs. Jackson. But I don't think you must talk of what really is not your business."
"D'you think you can act shamefully and then slink away as soon as you are brought to book? Do you know what you've done to Mary Clibborn?"
"Whatever I've done, you may be sure that I have not acted rashly. Really, nothing you can say will make the slightest difference. Don't you think we had better bring our conversation to an end?"
James made a movement towards the door.
"Your father and mother wish me to speak with you, Colonel Parsons," said Mrs. Jackson. "And they wish you to listen to what I have to say."
James paused. "Very well."
He sat down and waited. Mrs. Jackson felt unaccountably nervous; it had never occurred to her that a mere soldier could be so hard to deal with, and it was she who hesitated now. Jamie's stern eyes made her feel singularly like a culprit; but she cleared her throat and straightened herself.
"It's very sad," she said, "to find how much we've been mistaken in you, Captain Parsons. When we were making all sorts of preparations to welcome you, we never thought that you would repay us like this. It grieves me to have to tell you that you have done a very wicked thing. I was hoping that your conscience would have something to say to you, but unhappily I was mistaken. You induced Mary to become engaged to you; you kept her waiting for years; you wrote constantly, pretending to love her, deceiving her odiously; you let her waste the best part of her life, and then, without excuse and without reason, you calmly say that you're sick of her, and won't marry her. I think it is horrible, and brutal, and most ungentlemanly. Even a common man wouldn't have behaved in that way. Of course, it doesn't matter to you, but it means the ruin of Mary's whole life. How can she get a husband now when she's wasted her best years? You've spoilt all her chances. You've thrown a slur upon her which people will never forget. You're a cruel, wicked man, and however you won the Victoria Cross I don't know; I'm sure you don't deserve it."
Mrs. Jackson stopped.
"Is that all?" asked James, quietly.
"It's quite enough."
"Quite! In that case, I think we may finish our little interview."
"Have you nothing to say?" asked Mrs. Jackson indignantly, realising that she had not triumphed after all.
"I? Nothing."
Mrs. Jackson was perplexed, and still those disconcerting eyes were fixed upon her; she angrily resented their polite contempt.
"Well, I think it's disgraceful!" she cried. "You must be utterly shameless!"
"My dear lady, you asked me to listen to you, and I have. If you thought I was going to argue, I'm afraid you were mistaken. But since you have been very frank with me, you can hardly mind if I am equally frank with you. I absolutely object to the way in which not only you, but all the persons who took part in that ridiculous function the other day, talk of my private concerns. I am a perfect stranger to you, and you have no business to speak to me of my engagement with Miss Clibborn or the rupture of it. Finally, I would remark that I consider your particular interference a very gross piece of impertinence. I am sorry to have to speak so directly, but apparently nothing but the very plainest language can have any effect upon you."
Then Mrs. Jackson lost her temper.
"Captain Parsons, I am considerably older than you, and you have no right to speak to me like that. You forget that I am a lady; and if I didn't know your father and mother, I should say that you were no gentleman. And you forget also that I come here on the part of God. You are certainly no Christian. You've been very rude to me, indeed."
"I didn't mean to be," replied James, smiling.
"If I'd known you would be so rude to a lady, I should have sent Archibald to speak with you."
"Perhaps it's fortunate you didn't. I might have kicked him."
"Captain Parsons, he's a minister of the gospel."
"Surely it is possible to be that without being a malicious busybody."
"You're heartless and vain! You're odiously conceited."
"I should have thought it a proof of modesty that for half an hour I have listened to you with some respect and with great attention."
"I must say in my heart I'm glad that Providence has stepped in and prevented Mary from marrying you. You are a bad man. And I leave you now to the mercies of your own conscience; I am a Christian woman, thank Heaven! and I forgive you. But I sincerely hope that God will see fit to punish you for your wickedness."
Mrs. Jackson bounced to the door, which James very politely opened.
"Oh, don't trouble!" she said, with a sarcastic shake of the head. "I can find my way out alone, and I shan't steal the umbrellas."
XIII
Major Forsyth arrived in time for tea, red-faced, dapper, and immaculate. He wore a check suit, very new and very pronounced, with a beautiful line down each trouser-leg; and his collar and his tie were of the latest mode. His scanty hair was carefully parted in the middle, and his moustache bristled with a martial ardour. He had lately bought a fine set of artificial teeth, which, with pardonable pride, he constantly exhibited to the admiration of all and sundry. Major Forsyth's consuming desire was to appear juvenile; he affected slang, and carried himself with a youthful jauntiness. He vowed he felt a mere boy, and flattered himself that on his good days, with the light behind him, he might pass for five-and-thirty.
"A woman," he repeated—"a woman is as old as she looks; but a man is as old as he feels!"
The dandiness which in a crammer's pup—most overdressed of all the human race—would merely have aroused a smile, looked oddly with the Major's wrinkled skin and his old eyes. There was something almost uncanny in the exaggerated boyishness; he reminded one of some figure in a dance of death, of a living skeleton,