ONLY those who have gone through the ceremony of a mock marriage, from the gentlest motives¹, and have soothed² the solicitude³ of a beloved and invalid⁴ aunt by the gift of the marriage certificate thus obtained, can have any idea of the minor⁵ difficulties which beset⁶ the path of the really unselfish. Had the ceremony been one in which either party was deceived as to its real nature the sequent embarrassments⁷ would have been far less. The first and greatest was the question of names. The persons mentioned in the certificate now bedewed by the joyful⁸ tears of the invalid aunt, and scorched⁹ by the fierce fires of a first-class family row, were committed, so far as the family and the world knew, to a wedding-journey. That is to say, Mr. and Mrs. Basingstoke, after posting the certificate, were to proceed on their honeymoon¹⁰. But cold mock marriages claim no honeymoon. So far the only explanation of the relations of the now mockly married had been[175] made to Mr. Schultz across the peaches in the sunned and shadowy arbor¹¹ at Tunbridge Wells. To Mr. Schultz the two were brother and sister. To travel as Mr. and Mrs. Basingstoke presented difficulties almost insurmountable—to pursue their wanderings as Mr. and Miss Basingstoke involved bother about letters and the constant risk of explanations to any of the friends and relations of either across whose path fate might be spiteful enough to drive them. Because, of course, your friends and relations know how many brothers and sisters you have and what they look like, and those sort of people never forget. You could never persuade them that the young man with whom you were traveling was a brother whom they had overlooked or forgotten.

分享到：