the egoist-第9部分

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the　distant　blessings　of　the　mighty　world；　lying　somewhere　in　the
world's　forests；　across　wild　seas；　veiled；　encompassed　with
beautiful　perils；　a　throbbing　secrecy；　but　too　remote　to　quicken
her　bosom's　throbs。　Her　chief　idea　of　it　was；　the　enrichment　of
the　world　by　love。

Thus　did　Miss　Middleton　acquiesce　in　the　principle　of　selection。

And　then　did　the　best　man　of　a　host　blow　his　triumphant　horn；　and
loudly。

He　looked　the　fittest；　he　justified　the　dictum　of　Science。　The
survival　of　the　Patternes　was　assured。　〃I　would；〃　he　said　to　his
admirer；　Mrs。　Mountstuart　Jenkinson；　〃have　bargained　for　health
above　everything；　but　she　has　everything　besideslineage；
beauty；　breeding：　is　what　they　call　an　heiress；　and　is　the　most
accomplished　of　her　sex。〃　With　a　delicate　art　he　conveyed　to　the
lady's　understanding　that　Miss　Middleton　had　been　snatched　from　a
crowd；　without　a　breath　of　the　crowd　having　offended　his　niceness。
He　did　it　through　sarcasm　at　your　modern　young　women；　who　run　about
the　world　nibbling　and　nibbled　at；　until　they　know　one　sex　as　well
as　the　other；　and　are　not　a　whit　less　cognizant　of　the　market　than
men；　pure；　possibly；　it　is　not　so　easy　to　say　innocent；　decidedly
not　our　feminine　ideal。　Miss　Middleton　was　different：　she　was　the
true　ideal；　fresh…gathered　morning　fruit　in　a　basket；　warranted　by
her　bloom。

Women　do　not　defend　their　younger　sisters　for　doing　what　they
perhaps　have　donelifting　a　veil　to　be　seen；　and　peeping　at　a
world　where　innocence　is　as　poor　a　guarantee　as　a　babe's　caul
against　shipwreck。　Women　of　the　world　never　think　of　attacking　the
sensual　stipulation　for　perfect　bloom；　silver　purity；　which　is
redolent　of　the　Oriental　origin　of　the　love…passion　of　their
lords。　Mrs。　Mountstuart　congratulated　Sir　Willoughby　on　the　
prize　he　had　won　in　the　fair　western…eastern。


〃Let　me　see　her；〃　she　said；　and　Miss　Middleton　was　introduced　
and　critically　observed。

She　had　the　mouth　that　smiles　in　repose。　The　lips　met　full　on　the
centre　of　the　bow　and　thinned　along　to　a　lifting　dimple；　the
eyelids　also　lifted　slightly　at　the　outer　corners；　and　seemed；
like　the　lip　into　the　limpid　cheek；　quickening　up　the　temples；　as
with　a　run　of　light；　or　the　ascension　indicated　off　a　shoot　of
colour。　Her　features　were　playfellows　of　one　another；　none　of　them
pretending　to　rigid　correctness；　nor　the　nose　to　the　ordinary　
dignity　of　governess　among　merry　girls；　despite　which　the　nose　was
of　a　fair　design；　not　acutely　interrogative　or　inviting　to
gambols。　Aspens　imaged　in　water；　waiting　for　the　breeze；　would
offer　a　susceptible　lover　some　suggestion　of　her　face：　a　pure；
smooth…white　face；　tenderly　flushed　in　the　cheeks；　where　the
gentle　dints；　were　faintly　intermelting　even　during　quietness。　Her
eyes　were　brown；　set　well　between　mild　lids；　often　shadowed；　not
unwakeful。　Her　hair　of　lighter　brown；　swelling　above　her　temples
on　the　sweep　to　the　knot；　imposed　the　triangle　of　the　fabulous
wild　woodland　visage　from　brow　to　mouth　and　chin；　evidently　in
agreement　with　her　taste；　and　the　triangle　suited　her；　but　her
face　was　not　significant　of　a　tameless　wildness　or　of　weakness；
her　equable　shut　mouth　threw　its　long　curve　to　guard　the　small
round　chin　from　that　effect；　her　eyes　wavered　only　in　humour；　they
were　steady　when　thoughtfulness　was　awakened；　and　at　such　seasons
the　build　of　her　winter…beechwood　hair　lost　the　touch　of　nymphlike
and　whimsical；　and　strangely；　by　mere　outline；　added　to　her
appearance　of　studious　concentration。　Observe　the　hawk　on
stretched　wings　over　the　prey　he　spies；　for　an　idea　of　this　change
in　the　look　of　a　young　lady　whom　Vernon　Whitford　could　liken　to
the　Mountain　Echo；　and　Mrs。　Mountstuart　Jenkinson　pronounced　to　be
〃a　dainty　rogue　in　porcelain〃。

Vernon's　fancy　of　her　must　have　sprung　from　her　prompt　and　most
musical　responsiveness。　He　preferred　the　society　of　her　learned
father　to　that　of　a　girl　under　twenty　engaged　to　his　cousin；　but
the　charm　of　her　ready　tongue　and　her　voice　was　to　his　intelligent
understanding　wit；　natural　wit；　crystal　wit；　as　opposed　to　the
paste…sparkle　of　the　wit　of　the　town。　In　his　encomiums　he　did　not
quote　Miss　Middleton's　wit；　nevertheless；　he　ventured　to　speak　of
it　to　Mrs。　Mountstuart；　causing　that　lady　to　say：　〃Ah；　well；　I
have　not　noticed　the　wit。　You　may　have　the　art　of　drawing　it　out。〃

No　one　had　noticed　the　wit。　The　corrupted　hearing　of　people
required　a　collision　of　sounds；　Vernon　supposed。　For　his　part；　to
prove　their　excellence；　he　recollected　a　great　many　of　Miss
Middleton's　remarks；　they　came　flying　to　him；　and　so　long　as　he
forbore　to　speak　them　aloud；　they　had　a　curious　wealth　of　meaning。
It　could　not　be　all　her　manner；　however　much　his　own　manner　might
spoil　them。　It　might　be；　to　a　certain　degree；　her　quickness　at
catching　the　hue　and　shade　of　evanescent　conversation。　Possibly　by
remembering　the　whole　of　a　conversation　wherein　she　had　her　place；
the　wit　was　to　be　tested；　only　how　could　any　one　retain　the　heavy
portion？　As　there　was　no　use　in　being　argumentative　on　a　subject
affording　him　personally；　and　apparently　solitarily；　refreshment　
and　enjoyment；　Vernon　resolved　to　keep　it　to　himself。　The　eulogies
of　her　beauty；　a　possession　in　which　he　did　not　consider　her　so
very　conspicuous；　irritated　him　in　consequence。　To　flatter　Sir
Willoughby；　it　was　the　fashion　to　exalt　her　as　one　of　the　types　of
beauty；　the　one　providentially　selected　to　set　off　his　masculine
type。　She　was　compared　to　those　delicate　flowers；　the　ladies　of
the　Court　of　China；　on　rice…paper。　A　little　French　dressing　would
make　her　at　home　on　the　sward　by　the　fountain　among　the　lutes　and
whispers　of　the　bewitching　silken　shepherdesses　who　live　though
they　never　were。　Lady　Busshe　was　reminded　of　the　favourite
lineaments　of　the　women　of　Leonardo；　the　angels　of　Luini。　Lady
Culmer　had　seen　crayon　sketches　of　demoiselles　of　the　French
aristocracy　resembling　her。　Some　one　mentioned　an　antique　statue
of　a　figure　breathing　into　a　flute：　and　the　mouth　at　the　flutestop
might　have　a　distant　semblance　of　the　bend　of　her　mouth；　but　this
comparison　was　repelled　as　grotesque。

For　once　Mrs。　Mountstuart　Jenkinson　was　unsuccessful。

Her　〃dainty　rogue　in　porcelain〃　displeased　Sir　Willoughby。　〃Why
rogue？〃　he　said。　The　lady's　fame　for　hitting　the　mark　fretted　him；
and　the　grace　of　his　bride's　fine　bearing　stood　to　support　him　in
his　objection。　Clara　was　young；　healthy；　handsome；　she　was
therefore　fitted　to　be　his　wife；　the　mother　of　his　children；　his
companion　picture。　Certainly　they　looked　well　side　by　side。　In
walking　with　her；　in　drooping　to　her；　the　whole　man　was　made
conscious　of　the　female　image　of　himself　by　her　exquisite
unlikeness。　She　completed　him；　added　the　softer　lines　wanting　to
his　portrait　before　the　world。　He　had　wooed　her　rageingly；　he
courted　her　becomingly；　with　the　manly　self…possession　enlivened
by　watchful　tact　which　is　pleasing　to　girls。　He　never　seemed　to
undervalue　himself　in　valuing　her：　a　secret　priceless　in　the
courtship　of　young　women　that　have　heads；　the　lover　doubles　their
sense　of　personal　worth　through　not　forfeiting　his　own。　Those　were
proud　and　happy　days　when　he　rode　Black　Norman　over　to　Upton　Park；
and　his　lady　looked　forth　for　him　and　knew　him　coming　by　the
faster　beating　of　her　heart。

Her　mind；　too；　was　receptive。　She　took　impressions　of　his
characteristics；　and　supplied　him　a　feast。　She　remembered　his
chance　phrases；　noted　his　ways；　his　peculiarities；　as　no　one　of
her　sex　had　done。　He　thanked　his　cousin　Vernon　for　saying　she　had
wit。　She　had　it；　and　of　so　high　a　flavour　that　the　more　he　thought
of　the　epigram　launched　at　her　the　more　he　grew　displeased。　With
the　wit　to　understand　him；　and　the　heart　to　worship；　she　had　a
dignity　rarely　seen　in　young　ladies。

〃Why　rogue？〃　he　insisted　with　Mrs。　Mountstuart。

〃I　saidin　porcelain；〃　she　replied。

〃Rogue　perplexes　me。〃

〃Porcelain　explains　it。〃

〃She　has　the　keenest　sense　of　honour。〃

〃I　am　sure　she　is　a　paragon　of　rectitude。〃

〃She　has　a　beautiful　bearing。〃

〃The　carriage　of　a　young　princess！〃

〃I　find　her　perfect。〃

〃And　still　she　may　be　a　dainty　rogue　in　porcelain。〃

〃Are　you　judging　by　the　mind　or　the　person；　ma'am？〃

〃Both。〃

〃And　which　is　which？〃

〃There's　no　distinction。〃

〃Rogue　and　mistress　of　Patterne　do　not　go　together。〃

〃Why　not？　She　will　be　a　novelty　to　our　neighbourhood　and　an
animation　of　the　Hall。〃

〃To　be　frank；　rogue　does　not　rightly　match　with　me。〃

〃Take　her　for　a　supplement。〃

〃You　like　her？〃

〃In　love　with　her！　I　can　imagine　life…long　amusement　in　her
company。　Attend　to　my　advice：　prize　the　porcelain　and　play　with
the　rogue。〃

Sir　Willoughby　nodded；　unilluminated。　There　was　nothing　of　rogue
in　himself；　so　there　could　be　nothing　of　it　in　his　bride。
Elfishness；　tricksiness；　freakishness；　were　antipathetic　to　his
nature；　and　he　argued　that　it　was　impossible　he　should　have　chosen
for　his　complement　a　person　deserving　the　title。　It　would　not　have
been　sanctioned　by　his　guardian　genius。　His　closer　acquaintance
with　Miss　Middleton　squared　with　his　first　impressions；　you　know
that　this　is　convincing；　the　common　jury　justifies　the
presentation　of　the　case　to　them　by　the　grand　jury；　and　his
original　conclusion　that　she　was　essentially　feminine；　in　other
words；　a　parasite　and　a　chalice；　Clara's　conduct　confirmed　from
day　to　day。　He　began　to　instruct　her　in　the　knowledge　of　himself
without　reserve；　and　she；　as　she　grew　less　timid　with　him；　became
more　reflective。

〃I　judge　by　character；〃　he　said　to　Mrs。　Mountstuart。

〃If　you　have　caught　the　character　of　a　girl；〃　said　she。

〃I　think　I　am　not　far　off　it。〃

〃So　it　was　thought　by　the　man　who　dived　for　the　moon　in　a　well。〃

〃How　women　despise　their　sex！〃

〃Not　a　bit。　She　has　no　character　yet。　You　are　forming　it；　and　pray
be　advised　and　be　merry；　the　solid　is　your　safest　guide；
physiognomy　and　manners　will　give　you　more　of　a　girl's　character
than　all　the　divings　you　can　do。　She　is　a　charming　young　woman；
only　she　is　one　of　that　sort。〃

〃Of　what　sort？〃　Sir　Willoughby　asked；　impatiently。

〃Rogues　in　porcelain。〃

〃I　am　persuaded　I　shall　never　comprehend　it。〃

〃I　cannot　help　you　one