"I have lost a beautiful girl, an excellent social position, and a
handsome income," Mr. Godfrey began; "and I have submitted to it without
a struggle. What can be the motive for such extraordinary conduct as
that? My precious friend, there is no motive."
"No motive?" I repeated.
"Let me appeal, my dear Miss Clack, to your experience of children," he
went on. "A child pursues a certain course of conduct. You are greatly
struck by it, and you attempt to get at the motive. The dear little
thing is incapable of telling you its motive. You might as well ask the
grass why it grows, or the birds why they sing. Well! in this matter, I
am like the dear little thing--like the grass--like the birds. I don't
know why I made a proposal of marriage to Miss Verinder. I don't know
why I have shamefully neglected my dear Ladies. I don't know why I have
apostatised from the Mothers' Small-Clothes. You say to the child, Why
have you been naughty? And the little angel puts its finger into its
mouth, and doesn't know. My case exactly, Miss Clack! I couldn't confess
it to anybody else. I feel impelled to confess it to YOU!"
I began to recover myself. A mental problem was involved here. I am
deeply interested in mental problems--and I am not, it is thought,
without some skill in solving them.
"Best of friends, exert your intellect, and help me," he proceeded.
"Tell me--why does a time come when these matrimonial proceedings of
mine begin to look like something done in a dream? Why does it suddenly
occur to me that my true happiness is in helping my dear Ladies, in
going my modest round of useful work, in saying my few earnest words
when called on by my Chairman? What do I want with a position? I have
got a position? What do I want with an income? I can pay for my bread
and cheese, and my nice little lodging, and my two coats a year. What do
I want with Miss Verinder? She has told me with her own lips (this, dear
lady, is between ourselves) that she loves another man, and that her
only idea in marrying me is to try and put that other man out of her
head. What a horrid union is this! Oh, dear me, what a horrid union
is this! Such are my reflections, Miss Clack, on my way to Brighton. I
approach Rachel with the feeling of a criminal who is going to receive
his sentence. When I find that she has changed her mind too--when I hear
her propose to break the engagement--I experience (there is no sort of
doubt about it) a most overpowering sense of relief. A month ago I was
pressing her rapturously to my bosom. An hour ago, the happiness of
knowing that I shall never press her again, intoxicates me like strong
liquor. The thing seems impossible--the thing can't be. And yet there
are the facts, as I had the honour of stating them when we first sat
down together in these two chairs. I have lost a beautiful girl, an
excellent social position, and a handsome income; and I have submitted
to it without a struggle. Can you account for it, dear friend? It's
quite beyond ME."