‘Of my making!’ said Lady Caryisfort. And the crisis was so terrible that there was a pause all round her—a pause such as might occur in Olympus before Jove threw one of his thunderbolts. All who knew her, knew what a horrible accusation this was. ‘A match—of my making!’ she repeated. ‘Don’t you know that I discourage marriages among my friends? I—to make a match!—who hate them, and the very name of them!’
‘Oh, dear Lady Caryisfort, you are so amusing! To hear you say that, with such a serious look! What an actress you would have made!’
‘Actress,’ said Lady Caryisfort, ‘and match-maker! You do not compliment me; but I am not acting just now. I never made a match in my life—I hate to see matches made! I discourage them; I throw cold water upon them. Matches!—if there is a thing in the world I hate——’
‘But I mean a nice match, of course; a thing most desirable; a marriage such as those, you know,’ cried the British matron, with enthusiasm, ‘which are made in heaven.’
‘I don’t believe in anything of the kind,’ said the mistress of the house, who liked to shock her audience now and then.
‘Oh, dear Lady Caryisfort!’
‘I do not believe in anything of the kind. Marriages are the greatest nuisance possible; they have to be, I suppose, but I hate them; they break up society; they disturb family peace; they spoil friendship; they make four people wretched for every two whom they pretend to make happy!’
‘Lady Caryisfort—Lady Caryisfort! with all these young people about!’
‘I don’t think what I say will harm the young people; and, besides, everybody knows my feelings on this subject. I a match-maker! Why, it is my horror! I begin to vituperate in spite of myself. I—throw away my friends in such a foolish way! The moment you marry you are lost—I mean to me. Do you hear, young people? Such of you as were married before I knew you I can put up with. I have accepted you in the lump, as it were. But, good heavens! fancy me depriving myself of that child who comes and puts her pretty arms round my neck and tells me all her secrets! If she were married to-morrow she would be prim and dignified, and probably would tell me that her John did not quite approve of me. No, no; I will have none of that.’
‘Lady Caryisfort is always sublime on this subject,’ said one of her court.’