The moral is obvious.
Depend upon it, if there were a little more of this freedom of intercourse between our girls and young men, we would have a considerably less number of sour, disappointed virgins in our annual census; and, less vice and dissipation on the part of hot-brained youths, who, frequently, only give way to “fast life,” through feeling a void in their daily routine of existence that stereotyped fashion is unable to fill. Besides, it would be a perfect godsend to thousands of unhappy bachelors, who sigh for the realities of domesticity amidst the artificiality and rottenness of London society.
Some good-natured Mayfair dame, I believe, introduced the “Kettledrum” for the especial saving of poor young men who did not know what to do with their afternoons in our arid Belgravian desert. But, a little more is wanted besides five-o’clock tea; and, until it is granted, we will continue to have matrimonial infelicity, marriages “of convenience,” and, no marriages at all!
Now, I think, I have dilated enough upon the great question matrimonial. I will not apologise for my digression, because I’ve only said what I have long wished and intended to say about it on the first convenient opportunity. However, as I have at last succeeded in making a clean breast of the matter, I will revert to my original case.
Owing to the fact of our suburb being unfashionable, and our society humdrum, as already explained, I had the pleasure of associating more fully with Min, and seeing more of her domestic character than I might have done if we had been both of “the world,” worldly; although, as I have also mentioned, I was not able to adore her at home very often, in consequence of my noticing that her mother did not like me—seeing which, of course I did not push my welcome at her house to too fine a point.
Don’t think that Mrs Clyde was inhospitable. Nothing of the sort. She gave me a general invitation, on the contrary, to come in whenever I pleased of an evening “to have a little music;” giving expression at the same time to the sentiment, that she would be “very happy” to see me. But, after that affair connected with Dicky Chips, I learnt caution. I thought it better for me to make my approaches warily. Even to have the gratification of gazing on one’s heart’s darling, it is not comfortable, for a sensitive person, to accept too often the courtesies of a hostess, by whom you are inwardly conscious that you are not welcomed.
Still, I did see her at home sometimes.
I used to go there, at first only occasionally; and then, when I found Mrs Clyde did not quite eat me up, in spite of her cold manner, I went regularly once a fortnight—always making my visit on the same day and at the same hour of the evening; so, that Min learnt to expect me when the evening came round, and told me that she would have recognised my modest knock at the door, out of a hundred others.
Sometimes she and her mother and myself were all alone; but, more frequently, other casual visitors would drop in, too, like me.
I liked the former evenings the best, however, as I had her all to myself, comparatively speaking.