5.A Misunderstanding

As we were reaching Miss Modesty's front door, a young man rapidly came out of it. His face expressed, well, a little bit of... nothing, its features very plain, and his manners were invisible since we caught very little of him. He was hurrying to get on a carriage, his carriage, perhaps?, and as we watched him away, Miss Modesty came in a hurry to introduce us to the gentleman.

"Mr Daring, wait, please," as he turned, she caught her breath, "I must introduce you to two of my friends, Miss Fellow and Miss Gloom."

This Mr Daring looked upon both of us and stopped his gaze on me; while lifting his hat, in a very careless manner, (and not bowing, as most of the gentlemen did at that time!), uttered in nonchalance, "Very pleased to meet you," and then sent me a look that puzzled me even more. If I had to describe the impression he left me, only one word would be appropriate:

Awkward

Well, I couldn't doubt that the new gentleman was this particular acquaintance I had formed. Therefore, my visit at Miss Modesty's was pointless; I came in for a minute, only to form her the impression that I was interested in her health, and then excused myself, knowing that they currently thought I was boring and dull.

This general impression, I know, exists. But I cannot help it, because, as I am sure that I cannot change myself, nor my actions can. Alas, their distractions and entertainment consist in superficial matters, that only improve their good opinion about themselves. I could not care less about my reputation, really!

That stranger was improbably going to return, so I cleared my mind off him; yet there was another stranger that an explanation was demanded from. But how could I reach his presence without the odious yet pleasant Miss Modesty? I had tried the invitation method; it didn't work. But beside that, my patient, calm goodness could find no other way to see him privately. "Urgh," I mumbled, "he is inapproachable! If only I knew his weakness!" I was so impetuous, not knowing that, by declaring my wish to find it, I was committing the worst mistake I could possibly do! But what are these reasons against an idea so bright and promising? Nothing, I am sure!

So I set off towards home; I did not pay enough attention to their state at my leaving; and as I was just entering my dearly-missed haven, a carriage stopped by, of which the very gentleman I had met just a couple of minutes before stepped out and hurried towards me.

"Miss Gloom!," he started, lifting his hat in his rather disturbing manner. "I remained with the look of your eyes in mind; I knew I would see you again soon!"

What was his name again?, I was wondering. Why was he even there? His pretensions, that I should remember him so soon after first meeting him! What was he even after? Of course, he'd been struck by my appearance, but should I have considered his words a compliment? All of a sudden, an image of an ordinary peasant appeared before my eyes in his place. I finally answered, "It is good to see you again, sir; but I must go now." And then went into the house and closed the door behind me; in his face, yes!

But it didn't lower his opinion of me, should it be called an opinion at the utmost! For I received a letter soon after the incident, which I of course answered in a very indifferent way. He was expressing how glad he would be to meet me one day again, and perhaps exchange a word; how charming I was, in spite of having slammed the front door right in his plain face! What could he look for? As I was saying, I responded to the letter very kindly yet mostly hostilely.

Sir, I may misunderstand your intentions, but I do not comprehend your reasons for writing me this letter, whose tone I sincerely find peculiar. Were your wishes to further improve our acquaintance, I would be very happy to welcome you here. But this letter-writing is not very pleasant, I dare say, therefore I would maintain that our relationship should be increased by facing each other in our conversations.

I could not tell him that it couldn't have been better than seeing him very soon after that; yet I could not endure the thought of his walking into my house for the betterment of our acquaintance. Yet I was and hoped to remain confident in my powers; though, as soon as an incident twisted my way of seeing things - nevertheless, as soon as this incident twisted my mind, I began seeing things differently.

Mr Daring soon sent me a note informing me that he would pay me a visit, at all costs, as he named it; well, what was I then to say to him? No information of his interests and likes and dislikes had been revealed to me, yet I was strong in my belief that nothing should have prevented us from getting along.

But I was far, far, far from being right! Because, as I soon after noticed, we had nothing - but absolutely nothing - in common! If I began a conversation upon weather, he would answer "yes, Miss, I completely understand your opinion and I do believe mine is not very different from it." If I dared speak about our only mutual acquaintance, and Miss Modesty it was, and not that I was very fond of it, I assure you!, yet I saw nothing better that could improve the current situation. As I was saying, should I comment on her garments, or on her hair, furnishings or favourite colour, he would have answered that he was not able to form a distinct opinion, for mine were

Flawless

Perfect

Best

And many other attributions that neither I, nor my statements could possess. He didn't know, of course, about it, so I just nodded and kept replying with a smiling 'yes'. Great, indeed, now I had to get rid of him. His presence didn't comfort me very much, I dare say; and just when a servant came in and reminded me of the tea time's approach, I jumped out of my seat and yelled at the servant that no things should be brought in, for Mr Daring and I would be taking a relaxing walk in the park.

He misplaced my intentions and thought that I had gone insane, or that I had to converse with him something privately. Seriously, I just wanted to shorten his way out by approaching the gate.

After exiting the building, he came closer to me; I quickened the pace and started:

"Sir, our acquaintance has done no good to my well-being," and looking for a moment at his face (which I found very ugly for my taste, to be honest!), I continued laughingly, "unless you wanted it to be so. We, people, get to know other people in order to improve our social skills; this is my idea, which I take very seriously, and it would decrease my respect to you if you denied its being true."

I stopped, awaiting the answer to this cold beginning. Nothing of the kind occurred, so I continued calmly.

"Sir," and after this I no longer smiled, rather frowned, showing a puzzled look on my face, "I do not like your conduct, and that is very rude of me; but I also believe that liking people is more of a trouble to me, and I would rather they weren't nice to me. Perhaps that is the reason I now bid you good-bye and express my wishes that your health remains unchanged and that you shall never want to see me again."

As I said those last words, I glanced at the gate that stood before us. I at last added, "thank you for your visit, Mr Daring."

He was too struck to utter anything, and he turned away. I smiled inside myself, although I didn't look it.

Two years later, however, I was given to see him again. But he did not recognize my features, though he did seem to know them somehow. I could not have know that, later in life, (if two years' time is that late!) I would lay on paper these apologies and excuses. My mind was windy, as I myself named it:

How sad that I would see that face again - its alarming eyes warned me, as I set off to complain about what my own hands had written and my own voice had stated. But then, was I truly prepared? I even lied to my wisdom, considering it strong enough. But its efficience was by no means real. God proved me wrong; much more were to come, and I barely thought about any of them. Back then, my only solid excuse was my unawareness, my unborn power of truly portraying a being that - not as I was thinking in those lonely times - was superior to me.

As I thought more of it, my senses failed to see what was obvious. Right before me stood a large series of feelings that continually admitted that I had been wrong. It was not him that I had judged wrong - it was my own character that was screaming with no chances to be heard.
This was somehow an end to the stupid and extravagant irony in my conduct. But scarcely had I believed this, that the face I had dreaded came up again; in front of me, one more time, it seemed more powerful. And I hid somehow from it, not seeing that the face was no longer gazing upon me; it was searching for new victims.
Its cruelties were insatiable, its feelings were nothing real. The kind of the fear for it was more of a willingness to get rid of it. A despicable being, I guess it was.

But I shouldn't bother the reading eyes with these matters; so, soon after Mr Daring left, I turned my head back to Mr Hope, which was obviously taking a large amount of attention from me.