“You must put me out of your head,” said Mrs. Ewing.  “I am old enough to be your mother; I am ill unto death.  You must not love me in any way.”

“I cannot help it”

Mrs. Ewing hesitated.  “I have a mind to tell you something,” she said in a low voice.  “Can I rely upon you?”

“I would die before I told, if you said I was not to,” cried James.

“It might almost come to that,” said the woman gravely.  “A very serious matter is involved, otherwise there would not be this secrecy.  I cannot tell you what the matter is, but I can tell you something which will cure you of loving me.”

“I don’t want to be cured,” protested James, “and I have told you it is a love like worship, it is not—­”

Mrs. Ewing interrupted him.  “The worship of a young man is not to be trusted,” she said.  “I cannot have you made to suffer.  I will tell you, but, remember, if you betray me you will do awful harm.  Neither the doctor nor Clemency even must know that I tell you.  The doctor knows, of course, the secret; Clemency does not know, and must never know.  It would be the undoing of all of us, the terrible undoing, if this were to get out, but I will tell you.  You are a good boy, and you shall be spared needless pain.  Listen.”  She leaned forward and whispered close to his ear.  James started back, and stared at her as white as death.  Mrs. Ewing smiled.  “It hurts a little, I know,” she said, “but better this now than worse later.  You are foolish to feel so about me; you were at a disadvantage in coming here.  It is only right that you should know.  Now never speak to me again about this.  Think of me as your friend, and your friend who is in very great suffering and pain, and have sympathy for me, if you can, but not so much sympathy that you too will suffer.  I want sympathy, but not agony like poor Tom’s.  That makes it harder for me.”

“Does she know?” asked James, half-gasping.

“You mean does Clemency know I am ill?”

“Yes.”

“She knows I am ill.  She does not know how terrible it is.  You must help me to keep it from her.  I almost never give way when she is present.  I knew she was taking a nap this afternoon, and the pain was so awful.  It is better now.  I think I will go to my room and lie down for a while.”  Mrs. Ewing rose, and extended her hand to James.  “I have forgotten already what you told me,” she said.

“I can never forget!”

“You must, or you must go away from here.”

“I can never forget, but it shall be a thing of the past,” said James.

“That is right,” Mrs. Ewing said with a maternal air.  “It will only take a little effort.  You will see.”

She went out of the room with a flounce of red draperies, and left James.  He sat down beside a window and stared out blankly.  The thought came to him, how many avowals of love and deathless devotion such a woman must have listened to.  Her manner of receiving his made him think that there had been many.  “It is quite proper,” he thought to himself.  “A woman like that is born to be worshiped.”  Then he thought of what she had told him, and a sort of rage filled his heart.  He recognized the fact that she had been right in her estimation of the worship of a young man.  He is always trying to turn his idol into clay.