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212520_The_Adve ... _Way_Through_The_World.pdf - OUDL Home

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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 375<br />

the second-floor a sitting-room which had two beds in it, and in<br />

which the young ones practised the piano, with poor Charlotte as<br />

their mistress. Philip's courting had to take place for the most<br />

part before the whole family ; and to make love under such difficulties<br />

would have been horrible and maddening and impossible<br />

almost, only we have admitted that our young friends had little<br />

walks in the Champs Elysées; and then you must own that it<br />

must have been delightful for them to write each other perpetual<br />

little notes, which were delivered occultly under the very nose of<br />

papa and mamma, and in the actual presence of the other boarders<br />

at Madame's, who, of course, never saw anything that was going<br />

on. Yes, those sly monkeys actually made little post-offices about<br />

the room. <strong>The</strong>re was, for instance, the clock on the mantelpiece<br />

in the salon on which was carved the old French allegory, "Le<br />

temps fait passer l'amour." One of those artful young people<br />

would pop a note into Time's boat, where you may be sure no one<br />

saw it. <strong>The</strong> trictrac board was another post-office. So was the<br />

drawer of the music-stand. So was the Sèvres china flower-pot,<br />

&c. &c.; to each of which repositories in its turn the lovers confided<br />

the delicious secrets of their wooing.<br />

Have you ever looked at your love-letters to Darby, when you<br />

were courting, dear Joan ? <strong>The</strong>y are sacred pages to read. You<br />

have his tied up somewhere in a faded ribbon. You scarce need<br />

spectacles as you look at them. <strong>The</strong> hair grows black ; the eyes<br />

moisten and brighten ; the cheeks fill and blush again. I protest<br />

there is nothing so beautiful as Darby and Joan in the world. I<br />

hope Philip and his wife will be Darby and Joan to the end. I<br />

tell you they are married ; and don't want to make any mysteries<br />

about the business. I disdain that sort of artifice. In the days<br />

of the old three-volume novels, didn't you always look at the end,<br />

to see that Louisa and the Earl (or young clergyman, as the case<br />

might be) were happy? If they died, or met with other grief,<br />

for my part I put the book away. This pair, then, are well ; are<br />

married ; are, I trust, happy : but before they married, and afterwards,<br />

they had great griefs and troubles ; as no doubt you have<br />

had, dear sir or madam, since you underwent that ceremony.<br />

Married? Of course they are. Do you suppose I would have<br />

allowed little Charlotte to meet Philip in the Champs Elysées with<br />

only a giddy little boy of a brother for a companion, who would<br />

turn away to see Punch, Guignol, the soldiers marching by, the<br />

old woman's gingerbread and toffy stall, and so forth? Do you,<br />

I say, suppose I would have allowed those two to go out together,<br />

unless they were to be married afterwards ? Out walking together<br />

they did go ; and, once, as they were arm-in-arm in the Champs

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