TWO YOUNG LADIES ON MATRIMONY
‘I hope they had a pleasanter dinner downstairs than we have had here,’
said Nina, as, after wishing Miss O’Shea a good-night, the young girls
slowly mounted the stairs.
‘Poor old godmother was too sad and too depressed to be cheerful company;
but did she not talk well and sensibly on the condition of the country? was
it not well said, when she showed the danger of all that legislation which,
assuming to establish right, only engenders disunion and class jealousy?’
‘I never followed her; I was thinking of something else.’
‘She was worth listening to, then. She knows the people well, and she sees
all the mischief of tampering with natures so imbued with distrust. The
Irishman is a gambler, and English law-makers are always exciting him to
play.’
‘It seems to me there is very little on the game.’
‘There is everything--home, family, subsistence, life itself--all that a
man can care for.’
‘Never mind these tiresome themes; come into my room; or I’ll go to yours,
for I’m sure you’ve a better fire; besides, I can walk away if you offend
me: I mean offend beyond endurance, for you are sure to say something
cutting.’
‘I hope you wrong me, Nina.’
‘Perhaps I do. Indeed, I half suspect I do; but the fact is, it is not your
words that reproach me, it is your whole life of usefulness is my reproach,
and the least syllable you utter comes charged with all the responsibility
of one who has a duty and does it, to a mere good-for-nothing. There, is
not that humility enough?’
‘More than enough, for it goes to flattery.’
‘I’m not a bit sure all the time that I’m not the more lovable creature of
the two. If you like, I’ll put it to the vote at breakfast.’
‘Oh, Nina!’
‘Very shocking, that’s the phrase for it, very shocking! Oh dear, what a
nice fire, and what a nice little snug room; how is it, will you tell me,
that though my room is much larger and better furnished in every way, your
room is always brighter and neater, and more like a little home? They fetch
you drier firewood, and they bring you flowers, wherever they get them. I
know well what devices of roguery they practise.’
‘Shall I give you tea?’
‘Of course I’ll have tea. I expect to be treated like a favoured guest in
all things, and I mean to take this arm-chair, and the nice soft cushion
for my feet, for I warn you, Kate, I’m here for two hours. I’ve an immense
deal to tell you, and I’ll not go till it’s told.’
‘I’ll not turn you out.’
‘I’ll take care of that; I have not lived in Ireland for nothing. I have
a proper sense of what is meant by possession, and I defy what your great
Minister calls a heartless eviction. Even your tea is nicer, it is more
fragrant than any one else’s. I begin to hate you out of sheer jealousy.’
‘That is about the last feeling I ought to inspire.’
‘More humility; but I’ll drop rudeness and tell you my story, for I have a
story to tell. Are you listening? Are you attentive? Well, my Mr. Walpole,
as you called him once, is about to become so in real earnest. I could have
made a long narrative of it and held you in weary suspense, but I prefer
to dash at once into the thick of the fray, and tell you that he has this
morning made me a formal proposal, and I have accepted him. Be pleased to
bear in mind that this is no case of a misconception or a mistake. No young
gentleman has been petting and kissing my hand for another’s; no tender
speeches have been uttered to the ears they were not meant for. I have been
wooed this time for myself, and on my own part I have said Yes.’
‘You told me you had accepted him already. I mean when he was here last.’
‘Yes, after a fashion. Don’t you know, child, that though lawyers maintain
that a promise to do a certain thing, to make a lease or some contract, has
in itself a binding significance, that in Cupid’s Court this is not law?
and the man knew perfectly that all passed between us hitherto had no
serious meaning, and bore no more real relation to marriage than an outpost
encounter to a battle. For all that has taken place up to this, we might
never fight--I mean marry--after all. The sages say that a girl should
never believe a man means marriage till he talks money to her. Now, Kate,
he talked money; and I believed him.’
‘I wish you would tell me of these things seriously, and without banter.’
‘So I do. Heaven knows I am in no jesting humour. It is in no outburst of
high spirits or gaiety a girl confesses she is going to marry a man who has
neither wealth nor station to offer, and whose fine connections are just
fine enough to be ashamed of him.’
‘Are you in love with him?’
‘If you mean, do I imagine that this man’s affection and this man’s
companionship are more to me than all the comforts and luxuries of life
with another, I am not in love with him; but if you ask me, am I satisfied
to risk my future with so much as I know of his temper, his tastes, his
breeding, his habits, and his abilities, I incline to say Yes. Married
life, Kate, is a sort of dietary, and one should remember that what he has
to eat of every day ought not to be too appetising.’
‘I abhor your theory.’
‘Of course you do, child; and you fancy, naturally enough, that you would
like ortolans every day for dinner; but my poor cold Greek temperament has
none of the romantic warmth of your Celtic nature. I am very moderate in my
hopes, very humble in all my ambitions.’
‘It is not thus I read you.’
‘Very probably. At all events, I have consented to be Mr. Walpole’s wife,
and we are to be Minister Plenipotentiary and Special Envoy somewhere. It
is not Bolivia, nor the Argentine Republic, but some other fabulous region,
where the only fact is yellow fever.’
‘And you really like him?’
‘I hope so, for evidently it must be on love we shall have to live, one
half of our income being devoted to saddle-horses and the other to my
toilet.’
‘How absurd you are!’
‘No, not I. It is Mr. Walpole himself, who, not trusting much to my skill
at arithmetic, sketched out this schedule of expenditure; and then I
bethought me how simple this man must deem me. It was a flattery that won
me at once. Oh! Kate dearest, if you could understand the ecstasy of being
thought, not a fool, but one easily duped, easily deceived!’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It is this, then, that to have a man’s whole heart--whether it be worth
the having is another and a different question--you must impress him with
his immense superiority in everything--that he is not merely physically
stronger than you, and bolder and more courageous, but that he is mentally
more vigorous and more able, judges better, decides quicker, resolves more
fully than you; and that, struggle how you will, you pass your life in
eternally looking up to this wonderful god, who vouchsafes now and then to
caress you, and even say tender things to you.’
‘Is it, Nina, that you have made a study of these things, or is all this
mere imagination?’
‘Most innocent young lady! I no more dreamed of these things to apply
to such men as your country furnishes--good, homely, commonplace
creatures--than I should have thought of asking you to adopt French cookery
to feed them. I spoke of such men as one meets in what I may call the real
world: as for the others, if they feel life to be a stage, they are always
going about in slipshod fashion, as if at rehearsal. Men like your brother
and young O’Shea, for instance--tossed here and there by accidents, made
one thing by a chance, and something else by a misfortune. Take my word for
it, the events of life are very vulgar things; the passions and emotions
they evoke, _these_ constitute the high stimulants of existence, they make
the _gross jeu_, which it is so exciting to play.’
‘I follow you with some difficulty; but I am rude enough to own I scarcely
regret it.’
‘I know, I know all about that sweet innocence that fancies to ignore
anything is to obliterate it; but it’s a fool’s paradise, after all, Kate.
We are in the world, and we must accept it as it is made for us.’
‘I’ll not ask, does your theory make you better, but does it make you
happier?’
‘If being duped were an element of bliss, I should say certainly not
happier, but I doubt the blissful ignorance of your great moralist. I
incline to believe that the better you play any game--life amongst the
rest--the higher the pleasure it yields. I can afford to marry, without
believing my husband to be a paragon--could _you_ do as much?’
‘I should like to know that I preferred him to any one else.’
‘So should I, and I would only desire to add “to every one else that asked
me.” Tell the truth, Kate dearest, we are here all alone, and can afford
sincerity. How many of us girls marry the man we should like to marry,
and if the game were reversed, and it were to be _we_ who should make the
choice--the slave pick out his master--how many, think you, would be wedded
to their present mates?’
‘So long as we can refuse him we do not like, I cannot think our case a
hard one.’
‘Neither should I if I could stand fast at three-and-twenty. The dread
of that change of heart and feeling that will come, must come, ten years
later, drives one to compromise with happiness, and take a part of what you
once aspired to the whole.’
‘You used to think very highly of Mr. Walpole; admired, and I suspect you
liked him.’
‘All true--my opinion is the same still. He will stand the great test that
one can go into the world with him and not be ashamed of him. I know,
dearest, even without that shake of the head, the small value you attach
to this, but it is a great element in that droll contract, by which one
person agrees to pit his temper against another’s, and which we are told
is made in heaven, with angels as sponsors. Mr. Walpole is sufficiently
good-looking to be prepossessing, he is well bred, very courteous,
converses extremely well, knows his exact place in life, and takes it
quietly but firmly. All these are of value to his wife, and it is not easy
to over-rate them.’
‘Is that enough?’
‘Enough for what? If you mean for romantic love, for the infatuation that
defies all change of sentiment, all growth of feeling, that revels in the
thought, experience will not make us wiser, nor daily associations less
admiring, it is not enough. I, however, am content to bid for a much
humbler lot. I want a husband who, if he cannot give me a brilliant
station, will at least secure me a good position in life, a reasonable
share of vulgar comforts, some luxuries, and the ordinary routine of what
are called pleasures. If, in affording me these, he will vouchsafe to add
good temper, and not high spirits--which are detestable--but fair spirits,
I think I can promise him, not that I shall make him happy, but that he
will make himself so, and it will afford me much gratification to see it.’
‘Is this real, or--’
‘Or what? Say what was on your lips.’
‘Or are you utterly heartless?’ cried Kate, with an effort that covered her
face with blushes.
‘I don’t think I am,’ said she oddly and calmly; ‘but all I have seen of
life teaches me that every betrayal of a feeling or a sentiment is like
what gamblers call showing your hand, and is sure to be taken advantage of
by the other players. It’s an ugly illustration, dear Kate, but in the same
round game we call life there is so much cheating that if you cannot afford
to be pillaged, you must be prudent.’
‘I am glad to feel that I can believe you to be much better than you make
yourself.’
‘Do so, and as long as you can.’
There was a pause of several moments after this, each apparently following
out her own thoughts.
‘By the way,’ cried Nina suddenly, ‘did I tell you that Mary wished me joy
this morning. She had overheard Mr. Gorman’s declaration, and believed he
had asked me to be his wife.’
‘How absurd!’ said Kate, and there was anger as well as shame in her look
as she said it.
‘Of course it was absurd. She evidently never suspected to whom she was
speaking, and then--’ She stopped, for a quick glance at Kate’s face warned
her of the peril she was grazing. ‘I told the girl she was a fool, and
forbade her to speak of the matter to any one.’
‘It is a servants’-hall story already,’ said Kate quietly.
‘Do you care for that?’
‘Not much; three days will see the end of it.’
‘I declare, in your own homely way, I believe you are the wiser of the two
of us.’
‘My common sense is of the very commonest,’ said Kate, laughing; ‘there is
nothing subtle nor even neat about it.’
‘Let us see that! Give me a counsel or, rather, say if you agree with me. I
have asked Mr. Walpole to show me how his family accept my entrance amongst
them; with what grace they receive me as a relative. One of his cousins
called me the Greek girl, and in my own hearing. It is not, then,
over-caution on my part to inquire how they mean to regard me. Tell me,
however, Kate, how far you concur with me in this. I should like much to
hear how your good sense regards the question. Should you have done as I
have?’
‘Answer me first one question. If you should learn that these great folks
would not welcome you amongst them, would you still consent to marry Mr.
Walpole?’
‘I’m not sure, I am not quite certain, but I almost believe I should.’
‘I have, then, no counsel to give you,’ said Kate firmly. ‘Two people who
see the same object differently cannot discuss its proportions.’
‘I see my blunder,’ cried Nina impetuously. ‘I put my question stupidly. I
should have said, “If a girl has won a man’s affections and given him her
own--if she feels her heart has no other home than in his keeping--that she
lives for him and by him--should she be deterred from joining her fortunes
to his because he has some fine connections who would like to see him marry
more advantageously?”’ It needed not the saucy curl of her lip as she spoke
to declare how every word was uttered in sarcasm. ‘Why will you not answer
me?’ cried she at length; and her eyes shot glances of fiery impatience as
she said it.
‘Our distinguished friend Mr. Atlee is to arrive to-morrow, Dick tells me,’
said Kate, with the calm tone of one who would not permit herself to be
ruffled.
‘Indeed! If your remark has any _apropos_ at all, it must mean that in
marrying such a man as he is, one might escape all the difficulties of
family coldness, and I protest, as I think of it, the matter has its
advantages.’
A faint smile was all Kate’s answer.
‘I cannot make you angry; I have done my best, and it has failed. I am
utterly discomfited, and I’ll go to bed.’
‘Good-night,’ said Kate, as she held out her hand.
‘I wonder is it nice to have this angelic temperament---to be always right
in one’s judgments, and never carried away by passion? I half suspect
perfection does not mean perfect happiness.’
‘You shall tell me when you are married,’ said Kate, with a laugh; and Nina
darted a flashing glance towards her, and swept out of the room.