What Will He Do With It? (Belford)/Book 7/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
French touches to the Three Vignettes for the Book of Beauty.
Weeks passed—the London season was beginning—Darrell had decided nothing—the prestige of his position was undiminished—in politics, perhaps, higher. He had succeeded in reconciling some great men; he had strengthened, it might be saved, a jarring cabinet. In all this he had shown admirable knowledge of mankind, and proved that time and disuse had not lessened his powers of perception. In his matrimonial designs Darrell seemed more bent than ever upon the hazard—irresolute as ever on the choice of a partner. Still the choice appeared to be circumscribed to the fair three who had been subjected to Colonel Morley's speculative criticism—Lady Adela, Miss Vipont, Flora Vyvyan. Much /;'<? and (^w^ might be said in respect to each. Lady Adela was so handsome that it was a pleasure to look at her; and that is much when one sees the handsome face every day—provided the pleasure does not wear off. She had the reputation of a very good temper; and the expression of her countenance confirmed it. There, panegyric stopped; but detraction did not commence. What remained was inoffensive commonplace. She had no salient attribute, and no ruling passion. Certainly she would never have wasted a thought on Mr. Darrell, nor have discovered a single merit in him, if he had not been quoted as a very rich man of high character in search of a wife; and if her father had not said to her— "Adela, Mr. Darrell has been greatly struck with your appearance—he told me so. He is not young, but he is still a very fine-looking man, and you are twenty-seven. 'Tis a greater distinction to be noticed by a person of his years and position than by a pack of silly young fellows, who think more of their own pretty faces than they would ever do of yours. If you did not mind a little disparity of years he would make you a happy wife; and, in the course of nature, a widow, not too old to enjoy liberty, and with a jointure that might entitle you to a still better match."
Darrell, thus put into Lady Adela's head, he remained there, and became an idee fixe. Viewed in the light of a probable husband, he was elevated into an "interesting man." She would have received his addresses with gentle complacency; and, being more the creature of habit than impulse, would, no doubt, in the intimacy of connubial life, have blessed him, or any other admiring husband, with a reasonable modicum of languid affection. Nevertheless, Lady Adela was an unconscious impostor; for, owing to a mild softness of eye and a susceptibility to blushes, a victim ensnared by her beauty would be apt to give her credit for a nature far more accessible to the romance of the tender passions, than, happily perhaps for her own peace of mind, she possessed; and might flatter himself that he had produced a sensation which gave that softness to the eye, and that damask to the blush.
Honoria Vipont would have been a choice far more creditable to the good sense of so mature a wooer. Few better specimens of a young lady brought up to become an accomplished woman of the world. She had sufficient instruction to be the companion of an ambitious man—solid judgment to fit her for his occasional adviser. She could preside with dignity over a stately household —receive with grace distinguished guests. Fitted to administer an ample fortune, ample fortune was necessary to the devel- opment of her excellent qualities. If a man of Darrell's age were bold enough to marry a young wife, a safer wife among the young ladies of London he could scarcely find; for though Honoria was only three-and-twenty, she was as staid, as sensi- ble, and as remote from all girlish frivolities as if she had been eight-and-thirty. Certainly had Guy Darrell been of her own years, his fortune unmade, his fame to win, a lawyer residing at the back of Holborn, or a petty squire in the petty de- mesnes of Fawley, he would have had no charm in the eyes of Honoria Vipont. Disparity of years was in this case not his drav/back but his advantage, since to that disparity Darrell owed the established name and the eminent station which made Honoria think she elevated her own self in pre- ferring him. It is but justice to her to distinguish here between a woman's veneration for the attributes of respect which a man gathers round him, and the more vulgar sentiment which sinks the man altogether, except as the necessary fixture to be taken in with the general valuation. It is not fair to ask if a girl who entertains a preference for one of our toiling, stirring, ambitious sex, who may be double her age, or have a snub nose, but who looks dignified and imposing on a pedestal of state, whether she would like him as much if stripped of all his acces- sories, and left unredeemed to his baptismal register or unbecom- ing nose. Just as well ask a girl in love with a young Lothario if she would like him as much if he had been ugly and crooked. The high name of the one man is as much a part of him as good looks are to the other. Thus, though it was said of Madame de la Villiere that she loved Louis XIV. for himself and not for his regal grandeur, is there a woman in the world, however disinter- ested, who believes that Madame de la Villiere would have liked Louis XIV. as much if Louis XIV. had been Mr. John Jones! Honoria would not have bestowed her hand on a brainless, worth- less nobleman, whatever his rank or wealth. She was above that sort of ambition; but neither would she have married the best-looking and worthiest John Jones whoever bore that British appellation, if he had not occupied the social position which brought the merits of a Jones within range of the eye-glass of a Vipont.
Many girls in the nursery say to their juvenile confidantes,' " I will only marry the man I love." Honoria had ever said, ' I will only marry the man I respect." Thus it was her respect for Guy Darrell that made her honor him by her preference. She appreciated his intellect—she fell in love with the reputation which the intellect had acquired. And Darrell might certainly choose worse. His cool reason inclined him much to Honoria. When Alban Morley argued in her favor he had no escape from acquiescence, except in the turns and doubles of his ironical humor. But his heart was a rebel to his reason; and between you and me, Honoria was exactly one of those young women by whom a man of grave years ought to be attracted, and by whom, somehow or other, he never is; I suspect, because the older we grow the more we love youthfulness of character. When Alcides, having gone through all the fatigues of life, took a bride in Olym- pus, he ought to have selected Minerva, but he chose Hebe.
Will Darrell find his Hebe in Flora Vyvyan? Alban Morley became more and more alarmed by that apprehension. He was shrewd enough to recognize in her the girl of all others formed to glad the eye and plague the heart of a grave and reverend seigneur. As it might well not only flatter the vanity, but beguile the judgment, of a man who feared his hand would be accepted only for the sake of his money, that Flora, just at this moment, refused the greatest match in the kingdom—young Lord Vipont, son of the new Earl of Montfort—a young man of good sense, high character, well-looking as men go, heir to estates almost royal—a young man whom no girl on earth is justified in refusing. But would the whimsical creature accept Darrell? Was she not merely making sport of him, and if, caught by her arts, he, sage and elder, solemnly offered homage and hand to that belle de-daigncuse who had just doomed to despair a comely young magnate with five times his fortune, would she not hasten to make him the ridicule of London?
Darrell had, perhaps, his secret reasons for thinking other- wise, but he did not confide them even to Alban Morley. This much only will the narrator, more candid, say to the reader—if out of the three whom his thoughts fluttered round, Guy Darrell wished to select the one who would love him best—love him with the whole, fresh, unreasoning heart of a girl whose childish for- wardness sprung from childlike innocence—let him dare the hazard of refusal and of ridicule; let him say to Flora Vyvyan, in the pathos of his sweet, deep voice, " Come, and be the spoiled darling of my gladdened age; let my life, ere it sink into night, be rejoiced by the bloom and fresh breeze of the morn- ing!"
But to say he must wish it; he himself must love—love with all the lavish indulgence, all the knightly tenderness, all the grateful sympathizing joy in the youth of the beloved, when youth for the lover is no more, which alone can realize what we sometimes see, though loth to own it—congenial unions with unequal years. If Darrell feel not that love, woe to him; woe and thrice shame, if he allure to his heart one who might indeed be a Hebe to the spouse who gave up to her his whole heart in return for hers; but to the spouse who had no heart to give, or gave but the chips of it, the Hebe, indignant, would be worse than Erinnys!
All things considered, then, they who wish well to Guy Darrell must range with Alban Morley in favor of Miss Honoria Vipont. She proffering affectionate respect, Darrell responding by rational esteem. So, perhaps, Darrell himself thought; for whenever Miss Vipont was named he became more taciturn, more absorbed in reflection, and sighed heavily, like a man who slowly makes up his mind to a decision, wise but not tempting.