the egoist-第10部分

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〃Rogues　in　porcelain。〃

〃I　am　persuaded　I　shall　never　comprehend　it。〃

〃I　cannot　help　you　one　bit　further。〃

〃The　word　rogue！〃

〃It　was　dainty　rogue。〃

〃Brittle；　would　you　say？〃

〃I　am　quite　unable　to　say。？

〃An　innocent　naughtiness？〃

〃Prettily　moulded　in　a　delicate　substance。〃

〃You　are　thinking　of　some　piece　of　Dresden　you　suppose　her　to
resemble。〃

〃I　dare　say。〃

〃Artificial？〃

〃You　would　not　have　her　natural？〃

〃I　am　heartily　satisfied　with　her　from　head　to　foot；　my　dear
Mrs。　Mountstuart。〃

〃Nothing　could　be　better。　And　sometimes　she　will　lead；　and
generally　you　will　lead；　and　everything　will　go　well；　my　dear　
Sir　Willoughby。〃

Like　all　rapid　phrasers；　Mrs。　Mountstuart　detested　the　analysis　of
her　sentence。　It　had　an　outline　in　vagueness；　and　was　flung　out　to
be　apprehended；　not　dissected。　Her　directions　for　the　reading　of
Miss　Middleton's　character　were　the　same　that　she　practised　in
reading　Sir　Willoughby's；　whose　physiognomy　and　manners　bespoke
him　what　she　presumed　him　to　be；　a　splendidly　proud　gentleman；
with　good　reason。

Mrs。　Mountstuart's　advice　was　wiser　than　her　procedure；　for　she
stopped　short　where　he　declined　to　begin。　He　dived　below　the
surface　without　studying　that　index…page。　He　had　won　Miss
Middleton's　hand；　he　believed　he　had　captured　her　heart；　but　he
was　not　so　certain　of　his　possession　of　her　soul；　and　he　went
after　it。　Our　enamoured　gentleman　had　therefore　no　tally　of
Nature's　writing　above　to　set　beside　his　discoveries　in　the　deeps。
Now　it　is　a　dangerous　accompaniment　of　this　habit　of　driving；　that
where　we　do　not　light　on　the　discoveries　we　anticipate；　we　fall　to
work　sowing　and　planting；　which　becomes　a　disturbance　of　the
gentle　bosom。　Miss　Middleton's　features　were　legible　as　to　the
mainspring　of　her　character。　He　could　have　seen　that　she　had　a
spirit　with　a　natural　love　of　liberty；　and　required　the　next　thing
to　liberty；　spaciousness；　if　she　was　to　own　allegiance。　Those
features；　unhappily；　instead　of　serving　for　an　introduction　to　the
within；　were　treated　as　the　mirror　of　himself。　They　were　indeed　of
an　amiable　sweetness　to　tempt　an　accepted　lover　to　angle　for　the
first　person　in　the　second。　But　he　had　made　the　discovery　that
their　minds　differed　on　one　or　two　points；　and　a　difference　of
view　in　his　bride　was　obnoxious　to　his　repose。　He　struck　at　it
recurringly　to　show　her　error　under　various　aspects。　He　desired　to
shape　her　character　to　the　feminine　of　his　own；　and　betrayed　the
surprise　of　a　slight　disappointment　at　her　advocacy　of　her　ideas。
She　said　immediately：　〃It　is　not　too　late；　Willoughby；〃　and
wounded　him；　for　he　wanted　her　simply　to　be　material　in　his　hands
for　him　to　mould　her；　he　had　no　other　thought。　He　lectured　her　on
the　theme　of　the　infinity　of　love。　How　was　it　not　too　late？　They
were　plighted；　they　were　one　eternally；　they　could　not　be　parted。
She　listened　gravely；　conceiving　the　infinity　as　a　narrow　dwelling
where　a　voice　droned　and　ceased　not。　However；　she　listened。　She
became　an　attentive　listener。



CHAPTER　VI

His　Courtship

The　world　was　the　principal　topic　of　dissension　between　these
lovers。　His　opinion　of　the　world　affected　her　like　a　creature
threatened　with　a　deprivation　of　air。　He　explained　to　his　darling　
that　lovers　of　necessity　do　loathe　the　world。　They　live　in　the
world；　they　accept　its　benefits；　and　assist　it　as　well　as　they
can。　In　their　hearts　they　must　despise　it；　shut　it　out；　that　their
love　for　one　another　may　pour　in　a　clear　channel；　and　with　all　the
force　they　have。　They　cannot　enjoy　the　sense　of　security　for　their
love　unless　they　fence　away　the　world。　It　is；　you　will　allow；
gross；　it　is　a　beast。　Formally　we　thank　it　for　the　good　we　get　of
it；　only　we　two　have　an　inner　temple　where　the　worship　we　conduct
is　actually；　if　you　would　but　see　it；　an　excommunication　of　the
world。　We　abhor　that　beast　to　adore　that　divinity。　This　gives　us
our　oneness；　our　isolation；　our　happiness。　This　is　to　love　with
the　soul。　Do　you　see；　darling？

She　shook　her　head；　she　could　not　see　it。　She　would　admit　none　of
the　notorious　errors；　of　the　world；　its　backbiting；　selfishness；
coarseness；　intrusiveness；　infectiousness。　She　was　young。　She
might；　Willoughby　thought；　have　let　herself　be　led；　she　was　not
docile。　She　must　be　up　in　arms　as　a　champion　of　the　world；　and　one
saw　she　was　hugging　her　dream　of　a　romantic　world；　nothing　else。
She　spoilt　the　secret　bower…song　he　delighted　to　tell　over　to　her。
And　how；　Powers　of　Love！　is　love…making　to　be　pursued　if　we　may
not　kick　the　world　out　of　our　bower　and　wash　our　hands　of　it？　Love
that　does　not　spurn　the　world　when　lovers　curtain　themselves　is　a
loveis　it　not　so？that　seems　to　the　unwhipped；　scoffing　world
to　go　slinking　into　basiation's　obscurity；　instead　of　on　a
glorious　march　behind　the　screen。　Our　hero　had　a　strong　sentiment
as　to　the　policy　of　scorning　the　world　for　the　sake　of　defending
his　personal　pride　and　（to　his　honour；　be　it　said）　his　lady's
delicacy。

The　act　of　seeming　put　them　both　above　the　world；　said　retro
Sathanas！　So　much；　as　a　piece　of　tactics：　he　was　highly　civilized：
in　the　second　instance；　he　knew　it　to　be　the　world　which　must
furnish　the　dry　sticks　for　the　bonfire　of　a　woman's　worship。　He
knew；　too；　that　he　was　prescribing　poetry　to　his　betrothed；
practicable　poetry。　She　had　a　liking　for　poetry；　and　sometimes
quoted　the　stuff　in　defiance　of　his　pursed　mouth　and　pained
murmur：　〃I　am　no　poet；〃　but　his　poetry　of　the　enclosed　and
fortified　bower；　without　nonsensical　rhymes　to　catch　the　ears　of
women；　appeared　incomprehensible　to　her；　if　not　adverse。　She　would
not　burn　the　world　for　him；　she　would　not；　though　a　purer　poetry
is　little　imaginable；　reduce　herself　to　ashes；　or　incense；　or
essence；　in　honour　of　him；　and　so；　by　love's　transmutation；
literally　be　the　man　she　was　to　marry。　She　preferred　to　be
herself；　with　the　egoism　of　women。　She　said　it：　she　said：　I　must
be　myself　to　be　of　any　value　to　you；　Willoughby。〃　He　was
indefatigable　in　his　lectures　on　the　aesthetics　of　love。
Frequently；　for　an　indemnification　to　her　（he　had　no　desire　that
she　should　be　a　loser　by　ceasing　to　admire　the　world）；　he　dwelt　on
his　own　youthful　ideas；　and　his　original　fancies　about　the　world
were　presented　to　her　as　a　substitute　for　the　theme。

Miss　Middleton　bore　it　well；　for　she　was　sure　that　he　meant　well。
Bearing　so　well　what　was　distasteful　to　her；　she　became　less　well
able　to　bear　what　she　had　merely　noted　in　observation　before；　his
view　of　scholarship；　his　manner　toward　Mr。　Vernon　Whitford；　of　whom
her　father　spoke　warmly；　the　rumour　concerning　his　treatment　of　a
Miss　Dale。　And　the　country　tale　of　Constantia　Durham　sang　itself
to　her　in　a　new　key。　He　had　no　contempt　for　the　world's　praises。
Mr。　Whitford　wrote　the　letters　to　the　county　paper　which　gained　him
applause　at　various　great　houses；　and　he　accepted　it；　and　betrayed
a　tingling　fright　lest　he　should　be　the　victim　of　a　sneer　of　the
world　he　contemned。　Recollecting　his　remarks；　her　mind　was
afflicted　by　the　〃something　illogical〃　in　him　that　we　readily
discover　when　our　natures　are　no　longer　running　free；　and　then　at
once　we　yearn　for　a　disputation。　She　resolved　that　she　would　one
day；　one　distant　day；　provoke　itupon　what？　The　special　point
eluded　her。　The　world　is　too　huge　a　client；　and　too　pervious；　too
spotty；　for　a　girl　to　defend　against　a　man。　That　〃something
illogical〃　had　stirred　her　feelings　more　than　her　intellect　to
revolt。　She　could　not　constitute　herself　the　advocate　of　Mr。
Whitford。　Still　she　marked　the　disputation　for　an　event　to　come。

Meditating　on　it；　she　fell　to　picturing　Sir　Willoughby's　face　at
the　first　accents　of　his　bride's　decided　disagreement　with　him。
The　picture　once　conjured　up　would　not　be　laid。　He　was　handsome；
so　correctly　handsome；　that　a　slight　unfriendly　touch　precipitated
him　into　caricature。　His　habitual　air　of　happy　pride；　of　indignant
contentment　rather；　could　easily　be　overdone。　Surprise；　when　he
threw　emphasis　on　it；　stretched　him　with　the　tall　eyebrows　of　a
masklimitless　under　the　spell　of　caricature；　and　in　time；
whenever　she　was　not　pleased　by　her　thoughts；　she　had　that；　and
not　his　likeness；　for　the　vision　of　him。　And　it　was　unjust；
contrary　to　her　deeper　feelings；　she　rebuked　herself；　and　as　much
as　her　naughty　spirit　permitted；　she　tried　to　look　on　him　as　the
world　did；　an　effort　inducing　reflections　upon　the　blessings　of
ignorance。　She　seemed　to　herself　beset　by　a　circle　of　imps；　hardly
responsible　for　her　thoughts。

He　outshone　Mr。　Whitford　in　his　behaviour　to　young　Crossjay。　She
had　seen　him　with　the　boy；　and　he　was　amused；　indulgent；　almost
frolicsome；　in　contradistinction　to　Mr。　Whitford's　tutorly
sharpness。　He　had　the　English　father's　tone　of　a　liberal　allowance
for　boys〃　tastes　and　pranks；　and　he　ministered　to　the　partiality
of　the　genus　for　pocket…money。　He　did　not　play　the　schoolmaster；
like　bookworms　who　get　poor　little　lads　in　their　grasp。

Mr。　Whitford　avoided　her　very　much。　He　came　to　Upton　Park　on　a
visit　to　her　father；　and　she　was　not　particularly　sorry　that　she
saw　him　only　at　table。　He　treated　her　by　fits　to　a　level　scrutiny
of　deep…set　eyes　unpleasantly　penetrating。　She　had　liked　his　eyes。
They　became　unbearable；　they　dwelt　in　the　memory　as　if　they　had
left　a　phosphorescent　line。　She　had　been　taken　by　playmate　boys　in
her　infancy　to　peep　into　hedge…leaves；　where　the　mother…bird
brooded　on　the　nest；　and　the　eyes　of　the　bird　in　that　marvellous
dark　thickset　home；　had　sent　her　away　with　worlds　of　fancy。　Mr。
Whitford's　gaze　revived　her　susceptibility；　but　not　the　old　happy
wondering。　She　was　glad　of　his　absence；　after　a　certain　hour　that
she　passed　with　Willoughby；　a　wretched　hour　to　remember。　Mr。
Whitford　had　left；　and　Willoughby　came；　bringing　bad　news　of　his
mother's　health。　Lady　Patterne　was　fast　failing。　Her　son　spoke　of
the　loss　she　would　be　to　him；　he　spoke　of　the　dreadfulness　of
death。　He　alluded　to　his　own　death　to　come　carelessly；　with　a
philosophical　air。

〃All　of　us　must　go！　our　time　is　short。〃

〃Very；〃　she　assented。

It　sounded　like　want　of　feeling。

〃If　you　lose　me；　Clara！〃

〃But　you　are　strong；　Willoughby。〃

〃I　m