Clara Hopgood - Page 30/105

'What do you admire? You have hardly looked at him.'

'I saw a very good review of him. I will look that review up, by the

way, before I come down again. Mr Maurice was talking about it.'

Madge had a desire to say something, but she did not know what to

say, a burden lay upon her chest. It was that weight which presses

there when we are alone with those with whom we are not strangers,

but with whom we are not completely at home, and she actually found

herself impatient and half-desirous of solitude. This must be

criminal or disease, she thought to herself, and she forcibly

recalled Frank's virtues. She was so far successful that when they

parted and he kissed her, she was more than usually caressing, and

her ardent embrace, at least for the moment, relieved that unpleasant

sensation in the region of the heart. When he had gone she reasoned

with herself. What a miserable counterfeit of love, she argued, is

mere intellectual sympathy, a sympathy based on books! What did

Miranda know about Ferdinand's 'views' on this or that subject? Love

is something independent of 'views.' It is an attraction which has

always been held to be inexplicable, but whatever it may be it is not

'views.' She was becoming a little weary, she thought, of what was

called 'culture.' These creatures whom we know through Shakespeare

and Goethe are ghostly. What have we to do with them? It is idle

work to read or even to talk fine things about them. It ends in

nothing. What we really have to go through and that which goes

through it are interesting, but not circumstances and character

impossible to us. When Frank spoke of his business, which he

understood, he was wise, and some observations which he made the

other day, on the management of his workpeople, would have been

thought original if they had been printed. The true artist knows

that his hero must be a character shaping events and shaped by them,

and not a babbler about literature. Frank, also, was so susceptible.

He liked to hear her read to him, and her enthusiasm would soon be

his. Moreover, how gifted he was, unconsciously, with all that makes

a man admirable, with courage, with perfect unselfishness! How

handsome he was, and then his passion for her! She had read

something of passion, but she never knew till now what the white

intensity of its flame in a man could be. She was committed, too,

happily committed; it was an engagement.

Thus, whenever doubt obtruded itself, she poured a self-raised tide

over it and concealed it. Alas! it could not be washed away; it was

a little sharp rock based beneath the ocean's depths, and when the

water ran low its dark point reappeared. She was more successful,

however, than many women would have been, for, although her interest

in ideas was deep, there was fire in her blood, and Frank's arm

around her made the world well nigh disappear; her surrender was

entire, and if Sinai had thundered in her ears she would not have

heard. She was destitute of that power, which her sister possessed,

of surveying herself from a distance. On the contrary, her emotion

enveloped her, and the safeguard of reflection on it was impossible

to her.