"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

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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."




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