In his own heart! The proof of the pudding was in the eating--Bosinney
had still to eat his pudding.
His thoughts passed to the woman, the woman whom he did not know, but
the outline of whose story he had heard.
An unhappy marriage! No ill-treatment--only that indefinable malaise,
that terrible blight which killed all sweetness under Heaven; and so
from day to day, from night to night, from week to week, from year to
year, till death should end it.
But young Jolyon, the bitterness of whose own feelings time had
assuaged, saw Soames' side of the question too. Whence should a man like
his cousin, saturated with all the prejudices and beliefs of his class,
draw the insight or inspiration necessary to break up this life? It was
a question of imagination, of projecting himself into the future
beyond the unpleasant gossip, sneers, and tattle that followed on such
separations, beyond the passing pangs that the lack of the sight of her
would cause, beyond the grave disapproval of the worthy. But few men,
and especially few men of Soames' class, had imagination enough for
that. A deal of mortals in this world, and not enough imagination to go
round! And sweet Heaven, what a difference between theory and practice;
many a man, perhaps even Soames, held chivalrous views on such matters,
who when the shoe pinched found a distinguishing factor that made of
himself an exception.
Then, too, he distrusted his judgment. He had been through the
experience himself, had tasted too the dregs the bitterness of an
unhappy marriage, and how could he take the wide and dispassionate view
of those who had never been within sound of the battle? His evidence was
too first-hand--like the evidence on military matters of a soldier who
has been through much active service, against that of civilians who have
not suffered the disadvantage of seeing things too close. Most people
would consider such a marriage as that of Soames and Irene quite fairly
successful; he had money, she had beauty; it was a case for compromise.
There was no reason why they should not jog along, even if they hated
each other. It would not matter if they went their own ways a little so
long as the decencies were observed--the sanctity of the marriage tie,
of the common home, respected. Half the marriages of the upper classes
were conducted on these lines: Do not offend the susceptibilities of
Society; do not offend the susceptibilities of the Church. To avoid
offending these is worth the sacrifice of any private feelings. The
advantages of the stable home are visible, tangible, so many pieces of
property; there is no risk in the statu quo. To break up a home is at
the best a dangerous experiment, and selfish into the bargain.