"I know. You're not the first who has told me that he is miserable. I think it's fate, too."
James looked at her, perplexed, not understanding what she meant. With her sharp, feminine intuition, Mrs. Clibborn read in his eyes the hopeless yearning of his heart, and for a moment her rigid virtue faltered.
"I can't be hard on you, Jamie," she said, with that effective, sad smile of hers. "I don't want you to go away from here quite wretched."
"What can you do to ease the bitter aching of my heart?"
Mrs. Clibborn, quickly looking at the window, noticed that she could not possibly be seen by anyone outside. She stretched out her hand.
"Jamie, if you like you may kiss me."
She offered her powdered cheek, and James, rather astonished, pressed it with his lips.
"I will always be a mother to you. You can depend on me whatever happens.... Now go away, there's a good boy."
She watched him as he walked down the garden, and then sighed deeply, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eyes.
"Poor boy!" she murmured.