_Intercourse between Unconfessed Lovers--The Question of
Presents--Exchange of Hospitality--The Man who lives at Home--The Man
in Rooms._
Unconfessed Lovers.
There is a fascinating, yet withal tormenting, insecurity in the
intercourse preceding an actual Declaration of Love. It may be the
ante-chamber to an earthly paradise. It may but prove to be a fool's
paradise. George Eliot describes two of her characters as being "in
that stage of courtship which makes the most exquisite moment of
youth, the freshest blossom-time of passion--when each is sure of the
other's love and all its mutual divination, exalting the most trivial
word, the slightest gesture into thrills delicate and delicious as
wafted jasmine scent."
It may be that he has some honourable reason to forbid his speaking
when he would. He may fear to lose her altogether if he is too hasty.
Possibly there is another man in the case. She may be revelling in the
new joy of life without analysing its source. If she has faced the
secret of her own heart she will mount guard over herself lest word or
look should betray her, before he has told her that she does not love
in vain.
Breaches of Etiquette.
When a man finds that his attentions are unwelcome, and a woman has
used every means in her power, short of actual rudeness, to show him
that she does not desire his nearer acquaintance, he has no right to
force himself or his love upon her. He has no right to make sure of
any woman's love before he has asked her for it, unless, of course,
she has {26} betrayed herself by an unwomanly want of reticence. It is
both foolish and ill-bred for him to play the part of dog-in-the-manger
and to object to her receiving attentions from any one else. Until he
has declared himself he can assume no control over the disposal of her
favours, still less should he stoop to put a spoke in another man's
wheel.
The Question of Presents.
A line must be carefully drawn between the gifts of an unconfessed
lover and of a _fiance_. The former may send flowers, bon-bons, and
pretty trifles of that sort, or he could give her a dog or a Persian
kitten; but he must not offer her articles of jewellery or any item of
her toilette. He might give her the undressed skin of an animal that
he had shot, but he could not order a set of furs to be sent to her
from a shop. It must be remembered that ostensibly they are as yet
only friends, and though every gift will have its inward meaning, it
should not have any outward significance.
In offering a present the unconfessed lover will do well to enclose a
little note [footnote in original: For those who wish to study the art
of letter-writing there is a most excellent guide to all sorts of
correspondence, entitled, "How Shall I Word It?" published at one
shilling by C. Arthur Pearson (Limited).] couched in some such terms
as these:
"Dear Miss Grayson,--You said the other day that you could not grow
lilies of the valley in your garden, so I am venturing to send you the
accompanying basket, which I hope you will be kind enough to
accept.--Believe me, sincerely yours, Duncan Talbot."
Exchange of Hospitality.
Where both families are acquainted, and in a similar social position,
the interchange of hospitality will probably be somewhat increased in
virtue of the growing intimacy between the possible lovers. Until
there is an acknowledged engagement it would not be etiquette for his
family to single her out from the rest of her own people by inviting
her alone. A parent, {27} brother, or sister ought to be included. It
would also be diplomatic on the part of her friends not to extend too
gushing a welcome to him, while they take his belongings as a matter
of course. Because the one family can give dinner parties it does not
follow that the other should not afford just as much enjoyment by a
simpler form of hospitality. The possible lover does not come to
criticise the cuisine of the household in which the object of his
desires is to be seen.
The Man Who Lives at Home.
It will often happen that a man makes acquaintances who become friends
quite independently of his own family. But if he is seriously
contemplating matrimony he will be anxious to introduce his chosen one
to his womenkind. Supposing that his people were the older residents
in the place, he would pave the way by saying that his mother, or
sister, as the case might be, would so much like to call, and might
she do so? Unless there should be some purely feminine feud the
permission would be cordially given. If, on the other hand, the girl's
family were the first comers to the locality he would then ask the
lady to call on his people, intimating that they were longing to know
her and her daughter, and what a personal gratification it would be to
him to bring the desired meeting about. In the present day the old
hard and fast rules which used to regulate calling are no longer
observed. If acquaintance is really sought there will be no difficulty
for a woman of tact and judgment to cultivate it.
A Danger.
Women are very quick to see when they are being courted for their sons
or brothers, and they do not always like it. It is discourteous, and
very transparent, to send an invitation to a girl the day after her
brother has come home on leave in which you hope "that Captain Boyle
will be able to accompany her," when practically you have ignored her
existence since the last time he was at home. It is not kind or
considerate to try and monopolise the society of any man whose {28}
business or profession only permits of his being at home at long
intervals. A girl may want to have him with her very much indeed, but
she should not be piqued and feel injured if he excuses himself on
the ground of having to take his sister out, or spend his evening with
his parents. He will be all the better husband for this courtesy to
his own relations. Of course his people may be very dull, possibly
unpleasant, and in that case real friendship will be a labour, if not
an impossibility; but, for the man's sake, they must be treated in
such a way as not to hurt either his feelings or their own. The same,
naturally, holds good with regard to her belongings.
The Man who Lives in Rooms
is a much easier person to cultivate. You take it for granted that he
is dull, that his dinners are not well cooked, and that he misses the
delights of home. So you ask him to drop in when he likes. "We are
nearly always in to tea;" or "We dine at 7.30, and if you take us as
we are, there will be a place for you." As soon as a man sees that
this sort of invitation is really meant he will not be slow to avail
himself of it. Not that he will come to dinner every other night, but
he will drop in to tea, and turn up in the course of the evening for a
little music and a chat. He gets into the habit of coming in on Sunday
afternoons, and generally ends by staying to supper.
As a Host.
All this means a great deal to a lone bachelor, and makes him long for
a home of his own. In return for this delightful hospitality he will,
perhaps, ask a sister to stay with him and give a tea-party in his
rooms. Later on he will have seats for a theatre, and arrange a nice
little dinner or supper in town. Where dramatic delights are out of
reach he will plan a river or cycling expedition, he will entertain
his friends at a local cricket match, he will inspire his fellow
bachelors to give a dance; and there will be only one guest whose
presence is of any importance to him.
He will not let it appear that he is paying a debt; he will {29}
imply, rather, that the ladies are conferring a favour upon him. He
will consult her mother as to many arrangements, and make sure that all
the guests are to her liking. He will not be afraid of asking a possible
rival, who might be more dangerous when absent than present. While
thus entertaining the lady of his choice, the suitor must discern
nicely between paying her special honour and taking it for granted
that she already belongs to him. He must not advertise the fact that
the party is given for her, by neglecting his other guests, or by
omitting pleasant courtesies to less-favoured maidens.
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