lookedlovely；IknewtoowellIdidn’tlookmyself。IlookedlikeaspecialcolouredsupplementtoMen’sWear，orTheTailorandCutter，FullDressForCeremonialOccasions。Ihadeventhedisconcertingsensationsofanunfamiliarcollar。Ifeltlost——inastrangebody，andwhenIglanceddownmyselfforreassurance，thestraightwhiteabdomen，thealienlegsconfirmedthatimpression。
Myunclewasmybestman，andlookedlikeabanker——alittlebanker——inflower。Heworeawhiteroseinhisbuttonhole。Hewasn’t，Ithink，particularlytalkative。AtleastIrecallverylittlefromhim。
“George“hesaidonceortwice，“thisisagreatoccasionforyou——averygreatoccasion。”Hespokealittledoubtfully。
YouseeIhadtoldhimnothingaboutMarionuntilaboutaweekbeforethewedding；bothheandmyaunthadbeentakenaltogetherbysurprise。Theycouldn’t，aspeoplesay，“makeitout。”Myauntwasintenselyinterested，muchmorethanmyuncle；itwasthen，Ithink，forthefirsttimethatIreallysawthatshecaredforme。Shegotmealone，Iremember，afterIhadmademyannouncement。“Now，George。”shesaid，“tellmeeverythingabouther。Whydidn’tyoutell——MEatleast——before？”
IwassurprisedtofindhowdifficultitwastotellheraboutMarion。Iperplexedher。
“Thenisshebeautiful？”sheaskedatlast。
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’llthinkofher。”Iparried。“Ithink——“
“Yes？”
“Ithinkshemightbethemostbeautifulpersonintheworld。”
“Andisn’tshe？Toyou？”
“Ofcourse。”Isaid，noddingmyhead。“Yes。SheIS。”
AndwhileIdon’trememberanythingmyunclesaidordidatthewedding，Idorememberverydistinctlycertainlittlethings，scrutiny，solicitude，acuriousrareflashofintimacyinmyaunt’seyes。ItdawnedonmethatIwasn’thidinganythingfromheratall。Shewasdressedverysmartly，wearingabig-plumedhatthatmadeherneckseemlongerandslendererthanever，andwhenshewalkeduptheaislewiththatrollingstrideofhersandhereyeallonMarion，perplexedintoself-forgetfulness，itwasn’tsomehowfunny。Shewas，Idobelieve，givingmymarriagemorethoughtthanIhaddone，shewasconcernedbeyondmeasureatmyblackrageandMarion’sblindness，shewaslookingwitheyesthatknewwhatlovingis——forlove。
Inthevestrysheturnedawayaswesigned，andIverilybelieveshewascrying，thoughtothisdayIcan’tsaywhysheshouldhavecried，andshewasnearcryingtoowhenshesqueezedmyhandatparting——andsheneversaidawordorlookedatme，butjustsqueezedmyhand。
IfIhadnotbeensogriminspirit，IthinkIshouldhavefoundmuchofmyweddingamusing。Irememberalotofridiculousdetailthatstilldeclinestobefunnyinmymemory。Theofficiatingclergymanhadacold，andturnedhis“n’s“to“d’s。”
andhemadethemostmechanicalcomplimentconceivableaboutthebride’sagewhentheregisterwassigned。Everybridehehadevermarriedhadhadit，oneknew。Andtwomiddle-agedspinsters，cousinsofMarion’sanddressmakersatBarking，standout。Theyworemarvellouslybrightandgayblousesanddimoldskirts，andhadanimmenserespectforMr。Ramboat。Theythrewrice；theybroughtawholebagwiththemandgavehandfulsawaytounknownlittleboysatthechurchdoorandsocreatedaLilliputianriot；andonehadmeanttothrowaslipper。Itwasaverywarmoldsilkslipper，Iknow，becauseshedroppeditoutofapocketintheaisle——therewasasortofjumbleintheaisle——andIpickeditupforher。Idon’tthinksheactuallythrewit，foraswedroveawayfromthechurchIsawherinadreadful，and，itseemedtome，hopeless，strugglewithherpocket；andafterwardsmyeyecaughtthemissileofgoodfortunelying，itoritsfellow，mostobviouslymislaid，behindtheumbrella-standinthehall。
Thewholebusinesswasmuchmoreabsurd，moreincoherent，morehumanthanIhadanticipated，butIwasfartooyoungandserioustoletthelatterqualityatoneforitsshortcomings。IamsoremotefromthisphaseofmyyouththatIcanlookbackatitallasdispassionatelyasonelooksatapicture——atsomewonderful，perfectsortofpicturethatisinexhaustible；butatthetimethesethingsfilledmewithunspeakableresentment。NowIgorounditall，lookintoitsdetails，generaliseaboutitsaspects。I’minterested，forexample，tosquareitwithmyBladesovertheoryoftheBritishsocialscheme。UnderstressoftraditionwewereallofustryinginthefermentingchaosofLondontocarryoutthemarriageceremoniesofaBladesovertenantoroneofthechubbymiddlingsortofpeopleinsomedependentcountrytown。Thereamarriageisapublicfunctionwithapublicsignificance。Therethechurchistoalargeextentthegathering-placeofthecommunity，andyourgoingtobemarriedathingofimportancetoeveryoneyoupassontheroad。Itisachangeofstatusthatquitelegitimatelyintereststhewholeneighbourhood。ButinLondontherearenoneighbours，nobodyknows，nobodycares。Anabsolutestrangerinanofficetookmynotice，andourbannswereproclaimedtoearsthathadneverpreviouslyheardournames。Theclergyman，even，whomarriedushadneverseenusbefore，anddidn’tinanydegreeintimatethathewantedtoseeusagain。
NeighboursinLondon！TheRamboatsdidnotknowthenamesofthepeopleoneithersideofthem。AsIwaitedforMarionbeforewestartedoffuponourhoneymoonflight，Mr。Ramboat，Iremember，cameandstoodbesidemeandstaredoutofthewindow。
“Therewasafuneraloverthereyesterday。”hesaid，bywayofmakingconversation，andmovedhisheadatthehouseopposite。
“Quiteasmartaffairitwaswithaglass’earse。”
Andourlittleprocessionofthreecarriageswithwhite-favour-adornedhorsesanddrivers，wentthroughallthehuge，noisy，indifferenttrafficlikealostchinaimageinthecoal-chuteofanironclad。Nobodymadewayforus，nobodycaredforus；thedriverofanomnibusjeered；foralongtimewecrawledbehindanunamiabledust-cart。Theirrelevantclatterandtumultgaveaqueerflavourofindecencytothispubliccomingtogetheroflovers。Weseemedtohaveobtrudedourselvesshamelessly。Thecrowdthatgatheredoutsidethechurchwouldhavegatheredinthesamespiritandwithgreateralacrityforastreetaccident。
AtCharingCross——weweregoingtoHastings——theexperiencedeyeoftheguarddetectedthesignificanceofourunusualcostumeandhesecuredusacompartment。
“Well。”saidI，asthetrainmovedoutofthestation，“That’sallover！”AndIturnedtoMarion——alittleunfamiliarstill，inherunfamiliarclothes——andsmiled。
Sheregardedmegravely，timidly。
“You’renotcross？”sheasked。
“Cross！Why？”
“Athavingitallproper。”
“MydearMarion！”saidI，andbywayofanswertookandkissedherwhite-gloved，leather-scentedhand。
Idon’tremembermuchelseaboutthejourney，anhourorsoitwasofundistinguishedtime——forwewerebothconfusedandalittlefatiguedandMarionhadaslightheadacheanddidnotwantcaresses。Ifellintoareverieaboutmyaunt，andrealisedasifitwereanewdiscovery，thatIcaredforherverygreatly。I
wasacutelysorryIhadnottoldherearlierofmymarriage。
Butyouwillnotwanttohearthehistoryofmyhoneymoon。I
havetoldallthatwasneededtoservemypresentpurpose。ThusandthusitwastheWillinthingshaditswaywithme。DrivenbyforcesIdidnotunderstand，divertedaltogetherfromthescience，thecuriositiesandworktowhichIhadoncegivenmyself，Ifoughtmywaythroughatangleoftraditions，customs，obstaclesandabsurdities，enragedmyself，limitedmyself，gavemyselftooccupationsIsawwiththeclearestvisionweredishonourableandvain，andatlastachievedtheendofpurblindNature，therelentlessimmediacyofherdesire，andheld，farshortofhappiness，Marionweepingandreluctantinmyarms。
Whocantellthestoryoftheslowestrangementoftwomarriedpeople，theweakeningoffirstthisbondandthenthatofthatcomplexcontact？Leastofallcanoneofthetwoparticipants。
Evennow，withanintervaloffifteenyearstoclearitupforme，IstillfindamassofimpressionsofMarionasconfused，asdiscordant，asunsystematicandself-contradictoryaslife。I
thinkofthisthingandloveher，ofthatandhateher——ofahundredaspectsinwhichIcannowseeherwithanunimpassionedsympathy。AsIsitheretryingtorendersomevisionofthisinfinitelyconfusedprocess，Irecallmomentsofhardandfierceestrangement，momentsofcloudedintimacy，thepassageoftransitionallforgotten。Wetalkedalittlelanguagetogetherwhencewere“friends。”andIwas“Mutney“andshewas“Ming。”andwekeptupsuchanoutwardshowthattilltheveryendSmithiethoughtourhouseholdthemostamiableintheworld。
IcannottelltothefullhowMarionthwartedmeandfailedinthatlifeofintimateemotionswhichisthekerneloflove。Thatlifeofintimateemotionsismadeupoflittlethings。A
beautifulfacediffersfromanuglyonebyadifferenceofsurfacesandproportionsthataresometimesalmostinfinitesimallysmall。Ifindmyselfsettingdownlittlethingsandlittlethings；noneofthemdomorethandemonstratethoseessentialtemperamentaldiscordsIhavealreadysoughttomakeclear。Somereaderswillunderstand——toothersIshallseemnomorethananunfeelingbrutewhocouldn’tmakeallowances。
It’seasytomakeallowancesnow；buttobeyoungandardentandtomakeallowances，toseeone’smarriedlifeopenbeforeone，thelifethatseemedinitsdawnaglory，agardenofroses，aplaceofdeepsweetmysteriesandheartthrobsandwonderfulsilences，andtoseeitavistaoftolerationsandbaby-talk；acompromise，theleasteffectualthinginallone’slife。
EveryloveromanceIreadseemedtomockourdullintercourse，everypoem，everybeautifulpicturereflectedupontheuneventfulsuccessionofgreyhourswehadtogether。Ithinkourrealdifferencewasoneofaestheticsensibility。