VICTOR HAD REFUSED his bride at the altar! That was the
brute fact which agitated the little party in the vestry. No amount of
explanation could mitigate it. As best man I had been in a good
position to observe events; and even I, who had formerly been fairly
intimate with Victor, was completely taken by surprise. True, I had
long suspected that there was something queer about him; but up to the
very moment of his quietly shattering remark, as he put the ring into
his pocket, I had no idea that anything serious was amiss. James Victor Cadogan-Smith, later to be known as plain Victor Smith,
had seemed the ideal bridegroom. He was the son of a successful
colonial administrator who had climbed by his own ability from a very
lowly position, and had recently acquired a knighthood. The family had
been humble "Smiths" until Victor's father had married the only child
of a more aristocratic family, and had agreed to splice his wife's name
to his own. The new "Cadogan-Smith" assured his friends that he had done this
mainly to please his father-in-law. But in later life he used to say,
"In those days my snobbery was unconscious." His son Victor was born in 1890. He was now a bridegroom of
thirty-one, and certainly a catch for any girl. Looking at him in his
wedding clothes, one could not help using the cliché "every inch
a gentleman". His financial prospects were excellent. He was already
reputed to be one of the most brilliant young business men of his city,
and he was well established as a junior partner in a great shipping
firm. Victor had come through the Great War, as we called it in those
days, undamaged and with a Military Cross; and now, in the brief period
of optimism that followed the war, it seemed that he had excellent
prospects of working out for himself a triumphant business career in
the phase of post-war recovery. To crown all, he had secured as his
bride the charming daughter of the head of his firm. The wedding celebrations had been planned in appropriate style. The
only factor which was not in perfect harmony with the spirit of the
occasion, I fear, was the best man. I had been greatly flattered by
Victor's request that I should fill this office, but I could not help
wondering why he had not asked one of his many more presentable
friends. His subsequent behaviour toward me almost suggested that he
regretted his choice. Certainly I did not fit at all into the picture
of a smart wedding; and from the moment when I found that I should have
to hire a conventional wedding garment my heart had failed me. Victor
must have found me a very inefficient manager, for he had to re-arrange
almost everything that I had undertaken. I knew, of course, that in one
of his moods he had sometimes an almost obsessive passion for
correctness, but I had been surprised and exasperated by his meticulous
scrutiny of every detail of our clothing and of the time-table of the
honeymoon tour. At the church, Victor's erect and perfectly tailored figure had
seemed the very pattern of orthodoxy; and Edith, I am sure, must have
been admired by the whole congregation as the ideal bride, so "radiant"
was she (yes, that is the fatally right word), and so expensively
adorned. I remember I was rather surprised when the bridegroom suddenly
scratched his head, as though in perplexity, and began looking about
him in a frank, inquisitive manner that seemed out of keeping with the
occasion. And perhaps it was not quite seemly suddenly to turn his face
full upon the lovely creature at his side; but everyone must have
readily forgiven him, since his expression suggested great tenderness.
I remember noticing that his eyelids, normally inclined to droop, so
that his face wore the drowsy look of a lion in captivity, were now
fully raised. His blue eyes gazed with a vitality- yes, and a warmth of
feeling- which I had never before seen in them. "Such," I thought ," is
the power of love." But the words had scarcely formed themselves in my
mind, when Victor cut into the rector's solemn recitative in a voice
that was unusually gentle but also unusually decisive. "Edith," he
said, "we mustn't go on with this. I've-I've just waked up, and I see
quite clearly that I am not the one for you, nor you for me." For a moment, silence. The bride stared at the bridegroom like a
startled hind, then let herself be hurried away on her father's arm.
Victor, protesting his contrition, and offering to explain himself,
followed the outraged bridal party into the vestry, with me upon his
heels, and behind me his own distressed father. When the door was shut, the bride's father turned on Victor with
indignation, spluttering of breach of promise. Her mother attempted to
console her. Edith herself was very properly in tears; but also,
through streaming eyes, she stared at Victor with such an expression of
fascinated terror that I looked to see what could have caused it.
Certainly it seemed a new Victor that took charge of this very awkward
situation. Except for the fact that he sometimes tugged at his collar
and mopped the sweat from his face, he behaved with complete composure.
He looked from one to the other of us all with a curious intensity and
exhilaration, almost as though it was we that had changed, and he must
size us up afresh. Presently in a tone of authority that silenced the
rest of us he said, "Listen to me for a minute! I know I can't ever put
things right after the mess I have made, but I'll do whatever I can.
Anyhow, I must try to explain. Standing there in these damned silly
clothes and listening to the rector, I- well, as I said, I just woke up
from a sort of dream. I saw Edith and me as we really are, me a young
snob without a mind, and Edith- well, she s good to look at, very" (he
smiled ruefully at her), "and what's more, underneath all the
conventional trappings of her mind there's something sensitive and
honest; yes, and much too good for me, for that drowsy snob. In my
dream-life I really did think I was in love with her, but I wasn't
really, even then, and I'm certainly not now." He was watching Edith,
and an expression of pain passed over his face as he said, " God! What
a mess! Edith, I know I have hurt you horribly, but I have saved you
from something far worse, from marrying that somnambulant snob." No one had supposed Victor capable of talking like this. Or no one
but myself. To me, though the whole incident had of course been very
surprising, it had not seemed entirely out of keeping with certain
events in the past; particularly so, when Victor turned from Edith to
me with a special smile. It was a twisted smile, half quizzical but
wholly amiable, which in the old days I had learnt to regard as
revealing the true Victor, but had lately missed. The smile faded into
a grave and steady gaze, while he said to the company, “Harry, here,
perhaps knows what I mean, partly." This remark turned the attention of
the three parents upon me, and I could feel them blaming me for
Victor's shocking deed. Victor's father looked at his son, then back at
me, and the look said as clearly as words could have done, “My boy, why
did you get tangled up with this fellow? He's not one of us. And now,
see where he has led you!" At this point Edith brought the scene to a
close by imploring her parents to take her home.1
A WEDDING FIASCO
1921