Sketches of Young Couples | Page 4

all love and
attention, and she all blushes and fondness, toying with a little bouquet
which he gave her this morning, and placing the scattered rose-leaves
in her bosom with nature's own coquettishness. They have dreamt of
each other in their quiet dreams, these children, and their little hearts
have been nearly broken when the absent one has been dispraised in
jest. When will there come in after-life a passion so earnest, generous,
and true as theirs; what, even in its gentlest realities, can have the grace
and charm that hover round such fairy lovers!
By this time the merriment and happiness of the feast have gained their
height; certain ominous looks begin to be exchanged between the
bridesmaids, and somehow it gets whispered about that the carriage
which is to take the young couple into the country has arrived. Such
members of the party as are most disposed to prolong its enjoyments,
affect to consider this a false alarm, but it turns out too true, being
speedily confirmed, first by the retirement of the bride and a select file
of intimates who are to prepare her for the journey, and secondly by the
withdrawal of the ladies generally. To this there ensues a particularly
awkward pause, in which everybody essays to be facetious, and nobody
succeeds; at length the bridegroom makes a mysterious disappearance

in obedience to some equally mysterious signal; and the table is
deserted.
Now, for at least six weeks last past it has been solemnly devised and
settled that the young couple should go away in secret; but they no
sooner appear without the door than the drawing-room windows are
blocked up with ladies waving their handkerchiefs and kissing their
hands, and the dining-room panes with gentlemen's faces beaming
farewell in every queer variety of its expression. The hall and steps are
crowded with servants in white favours, mixed up with particular
friends and relations who have darted out to say good-bye; and
foremost in the group are the tiny lovers arm in arm, thinking, with
fluttering hearts, what happiness it would be to dash away together in
that gallant coach, and never part again.
The bride has barely time for one hurried glance at her old home, when
the steps rattle, the door slams, the horses clatter on the pavement, and
they have left it far away.
A knot of women servants still remain clustered in the hall, whispering
among themselves, and there of course is Anne from number six, who
has made another escape on some plea or other, and been an admiring
witness of the departure. There are two points on which Anne
expatiates over and over again, without the smallest appearance of
fatigue or intending to leave off; one is, that she 'never see in all her life
such a--oh such a angel of a gentleman as Mr. Harvey'--and the other,
that she 'can't tell how it is, but it don't seem a bit like a work-a-day, or
a Sunday neither--it's all so unsettled and unregular.'

THE FORMAL COUPLE

The formal couple are the most prim, cold, immovable, and
unsatisfactory people on the face of the earth. Their faces, voices, dress,
house, furniture, walk, and manner, are all the essence of formality,
unrelieved by one redeeming touch of frankness, heartiness, or nature.

Everything with the formal couple resolves itself into a matter of form.
They don't call upon you on your account, but their own; not to see
how you are, but to show how they are: it is not a ceremony to do
honour to you, but to themselves,--not due to your position, but to
theirs. If one of a friend's children die, the formal couple are as sure and
punctual in sending to the house as the undertaker; if a friend's family
be increased, the monthly nurse is not more attentive than they. The
formal couple, in fact, joyfully seize all occasions of testifying their
good-breeding and precise observance of the little usages of society;
and for you, who are the means to this end, they care as much as a man
does for the tailor who has enabled him to cut a figure, or a woman for
the milliner who has assisted her to a conquest.
Having an extensive connexion among that kind of people who make
acquaintances and eschew friends, the formal gentleman attends from
time to time a great many funerals, to which he is formally invited, and
to which he formally goes, as returning a call for the last time. Here his
deportment is of the most faultless description; he knows the exact
pitch of voice it is proper to assume, the sombre look he ought to wear,
the melancholy tread which should be his gait for the day. He is
perfectly acquainted with all the