InthemorningMrs.Parsonswasinthehall,arrangingflowers,whenJamespassedthroughtogethishat.
"AreyougoingtoseeMarynow?"
"Yes,mother."
"That'sagoodboy."
Shedidnotnoticethatherson'susualgravitywasintensified,orthathisverylipswerepallid,andhiseyescarewornandlustreless.
Itwasraining.Theyoungfreshleaves,inthecolourlessday,hadlosttheirverdure,andthemassiveshapesoftheelmtreeswereobscuredinthemist.Theskyhadsomelancholyatonethatitseemedaworkofman—alifelesshueofinfinitesorrow,drearyandcheerless.
JamesarrivedattheClibborns'house.
"MissMaryisinthedrawing-room,"hewastoldbyaservant,whosmiledonhim,theacceptedlover,withobtrusivefriendliness.
Hewentinandfoundherseatedatthepiano,industriouslyplayingscales.Sheworetheweather-beatenstrawhatwithoutwhichsheneverseemedcomfortable.
"Oh,I'mgladyou'vecome,"shesaid."I'maloneinthehouse,andIwastakingtheopportunitytohaveagoodpractice."Sheturnedroundonthemusic-stool,andranonehandchromaticallyupthepiano,smilingthewhilewithpleasureatJamie'svisit."Wouldyouliketogoforawalk?"sheasked."Idon'tmindtherainabit."
"Iwouldratherstayhere,ifyoudon'tmind."
Jamessatdownandbeganplayingwithapaper-knife.Stillhedidnotknowhowtoexpresshimself.Hewastornasunderbyrivalemotionshefeltabsolutelyboundtospeak,andyetcouldnotbearthethoughtoftheagonyhemustcause.Hewasverytender-heartedhehadneverinhislifeconsciouslygivenpaintoanylivingcreature,andwouldfarratherhaveinflictedhurtuponhimself.
"I'vebeenwantingtohavealongtalkwithyoualoneeversinceIcameback."
"Haveyou?Whydidn'tyoutellme?"
"BecausewhatIwanttosayisverydifficult,MaryandI'mafraiditmustbevery—distressingtobothofus."
"Whatdoyoumean?"
Marysuddenlybecamegrave,Jamesglancedather,andhesitatedbuttherewasnoroomforhesitationnow.Somehowhemustgettotheendofwhathehadtosay,attemptingonlytobeasgentlea