The Essential G. B. Shaw: Celebrated Plays, Novels, Personal Letters, Essays & Articles. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      Mary thought it better not to reply. Her temper was so far under control that she could suppress the bitter speeches which suggested themselves to her, but she could not think of any soft answers, and so she had either to retort or be silent.

      “I have noticed — or at least I fancy so” — he said quietly, after a pause, “that our engagement has not been so pleasant a topic as it once was.”

      “I am perfectly ready to fulfill it,” said Mary steadfastly.

      “So am I,” said Adrian in the same tone. Another interval of silence ensued.

      “The question is,” he said then, “whether you are willing as well as ready You would do me a cruel injustice if, having promised me your heart, you were to redeem that promise with your hand alone.”

      “What have you to complain of, Adrian? I know that you are sensitive; but I have taken such pains to avoid giving you the least uneasiness during the last two years that I do not think you can reasonably reproach me. You agreed with me that my painting was mere waste of time, and that I was right to give it up.”

      “Since you no longer cared for it.”

      “I did not know that you felt sore about it.”

      “Nor do I, Mary.”

      “Then what is the matter?”

      “Nothing is the matter, if you are satisfied.”

      “And is that all you had to say to me, Adrian?” This with an attempt at gaiety.

      Adrian mused awhile. “Mary,” he said: “I wish you in the first place to understand that I am not jealous of Mr Jack.” She opened her eyes widely, and looked at him. “But,” he continued, “I never was so happy with you as when we were merely friends. Since that time, I have become your professed lover; and Mr Jack has succeeded to the friendship which — without in the least intending it — I left vacant. I would willingly change places with him now.”

      “You ask me to break off the engagement, then,” she said, half eager, half cautious.

      “No. I merely feel bound to offer to release you if you desire it.”

      “I am ready to keep my promise,” she rejoined stubbornly.

      “So you say. I do not mean that you will not keep your word, but that your assurance is not given in a manner calculated to make me very happy. I often used to warn you that you thought too highly of me, Mary. You are revenging your own error on me now by letting me see that you do not think me worthy of the sacrifice you feel bound to make for me.”

      “I never spoke of it as a sacrifice,” said Mary turning red, “I took particular care — I mean that you are groundlessly jealous of Mr Jack. If our engagement is to he broken off, Adrian, do not say that I broke it.”

      “I do not think that I have broken it, Mary,” said Herbert, also reddening.

      “Then I suppose it holds good,”she said. A long silence followed this. They walked once across the grass and half way back. There she stopped, and faced him bravely. “Adrian,” she said: “I have been fencing unworthily with you. Will you release me from the engagement, and let us be friends as we were before?”

      “You do wish it, then,” he said, startled.

      “I do; and I was hoping you would propose it yourself, and so be unable to reproach me with going back from my word. That was mean; and I came to my senses during that last turn across the square. I pledge you my word that I only want to be free to remain unmarried. It has nothing to do with Mr Jack or any other man. It is only that I should not be a good wife to you. I do not think I will marry at all. You are far too good for me, Adrian.”

      Herbert, ashamed of himself, stood looking at her, unable to reply.

      “I know I should have told you this frankly at first,” she continued anxiously. “But my want of straightforwardness only shows that I am not what you thought I was. I should be a perpetual disappointment to you if you married me. I hope I have not been too sudden. I thought — that is, I fancied — Well, I have been thinking a little about Mlle Szczympliça. If you remain friends with her, you will soon feel that I am no great loss.”

      “I hope it is not on her account that—”

      “No, no. It is solely for the reason I have given. We are not a bit suited to one another. I assure you that I have no other motive. Are you certain that you believe me, Adrian? If you suspect me of wanting to make way for another attachment, or of being merely huffed and jealous, you must think very ill of me.”

      Herbert’s old admiration of her stirred within him, intensified by the remorse which he felt for having himself acted as she was blaming herself for acting. He was annoyed too, because now that circumstances had tested them equally, she had done the right thing and he the wrong thing. He had always been sincere in his protests that she thought too highly of him; but he had never expected to come out of any trial meanly in comparison with her. He thought of Aurélie with a sudden dread that perhaps she saw nothing more in him than this situation had brought out. But he maintained, by habit, all his old air of thoughtful superiority as he took up the conversation.

      “Mary,” he said, earnestly: “I have never thought more highly of you than I do at this moment. But whatever you feel to be the right course for us is the right course. I have not been quite unprepared for this; and since it will make you happy, I am content to lose you as a wife, provided I do not lose you as a friend.”

      “I shall always be proud to be your friend,” she said, offering him her hand. He took it, feeling quite noble again. “Now we are both free,” she continued, and I can wish for your happiness without feeling heavily responsible for it. And, Adrian: when we were engaged, you gave me some presents and wrote me some letters. May I keep them?”

      “I shall be very much hurt if you return them; though I suppose that you have a right to do so if you wish.”

      “I will keep them then.” They clasped hands once again before she resumed in her ordinary tone, “I wonder has Miss Cairns been waiting for me all this time.”

      On the way to the house they chatted busily on indifferent matters, The servant who opened the door informed them that Miss Cairns was within. Mary entered; but Herbert did not follow.

      “If you do not mind,” he Said, “I think I had rather not go in.” This seemed natural after what had passed. She smiled, and bade him goodbye.

      “Goodbye, Mary,” he said. As the door closed on her, he turned towards Fitzroy Square; a feeling of being ill and out of conceit with himself made him turn back to a restaurant in Oxford Street, where he had a chop and glass of wine. After this, his ardor suddenly revived; and he hurried towards Aurélie’s residence by way of Wells Street. He soon lost his way in the labyrinth between Great Portland and Cleveland Streets, and at last emerged at Portland Road railway station. Knowing the way thence, he started afresh for Fitzroy Square. Before he had gone many steps he was arrested by his mother’s voice calling him. She was coming from the station and overtook him in the Euston Road, at the corner of Southampton Street.

      “What on earth are you doing in this quarter of the town?” he said, stopping, and trying to conceal how unwelcome the interruption was.

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