DEAR MARJORIE,--Thanks for your kind letter. I was hoping you would be
pleased about my engagement.
It is most curious you should have guessed, without my telling you, and
without even seeing his photograph, that his name is ARTHUR. I must tell
you more about him. He is tall and handsome, also, _not at all
commonplace_. He looks a little like the old prints one sees in seaside
lodging-houses, called "_With the Stream_," or "_Against the Stream_,"
or "_Good-bye_," or "_The Return of the Black Brunswicker_." He looks,
in fact, far more romantic than the young men one generally sees: and
the key-note (if you will forgive the expression) of his character is
his great dislike to modern ideas, especially to anything he calls
"cynical." I met him first at Lady LYON TAYMER'S, but he has often
explained to me that that was entirely accidental; he was "taken" there;
he dislikes her set, and has an especial aversion to the clever young
men of the day. He has an excessive--and I must say I think
unnecessary--terror of being mistaken for one: and says that if he had
not heard it was the very latest thing he would never read anything but
SCOTT. To the bicycle and cigarette, for women, he has an equally strong
objection, and I think he often pretends not to see a joke because he
has a nervous suspicion of its being what _he_ would call the New
Humour. In the evening, on the balcony, he quotes BYRON, and in the
morning, in the garden, he reads WILKIE COLLINS or Mrs. HENRY WOOD. He
says he hopes I shall spend a great deal of time in the still-room, to
which I heartily assent, though neither of us know exactly what a
still-room is, but it sounds quiet. Women, ARTHUR thinks, should
preserve fruits, and a lady-like demeanour, and do plain needle-work, or
perhaps "tatting." Art embroidery he looks on with doubt, and I believe
he considers it _fast_. When I told him he seemed anxious I should not
_reap_ without having learnt to _sew_, he seemed hurt and we hastily
changed the subject. I was playing croquet with him--(croquet he
approves)--when he was lecturing on fruit-preserving. "Shall you really
expect me to make jam?" I said. "Would you be cross if I did?" he asked,
tenderly. "CROSSE! yes! and BLACKWELL, too, if you like," I answered in
my (occasionally) flippant way, which I always regret instantly after.
ARTHUR threw down his mallet. "This--GLADYS--this is the sort of thing
which--which--," &c. We had a short quarrel, and a long reconciliation.
ARTHUR is a _great dear_, you must understand, and I am very happy. He
does not show me the book of dried flowers nearly so often now, and has
written some verses about me, he is going to show them to me to-night.
ARTHUR is very interesting when he talks of _me_; it is when he
discusses abstract subjects--such as chemistry, or big sleeves--that he
is not quite so amusing. He _is_ dreadfully prejudiced about sleeves. Do
you think he will gradually get accustomed to them? I think he will by
the time they have quite gone out!
I am sure you will like dear ARTHUR. Of course one has to understand
him. When he came down to stay with us, I said, "You must be very tired
after your short journey," and I was surprised how much it annoyed him!
Don't say anything of that sort to him--_at first_. He is apt to take
things--just a little--seriously. It is rather a charming quality in a
man to whom one is engaged--don't you think so? Such a love as ours
cannot fail to have an ennobling effect: as ARTHUR says, it seems to
lift us above all thoughts of this world. Write soon. I am longing to
hear about the new skirts, and to show you my sapphire ring.
Your affectionate friend, GLADYS.
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FROM OUR OWN SCHOOLBOY, A STUDENT OF LEMPRIÈRE.--SIR,--I have heard Mr.
ARTHUR BALFOUR spoken of as "the _Loeda_ of the House of Commons." Who
is its Jupiter?
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