Part 36 (2/2)
”You would conclude he was cross-eyed, wouldn't you?”
”You would conclude he was an idiot, and, between ourselves, that's just the trouble now-a-days. The common people seem to think that they have a perfect right to do what their betters do.”
”But to copy their virtues----”
”That isn't the point exactly,” he interrupted. ”I don't pretend that we have any more virtues of the homely sort, than the cottage folk, but certain things belong to us by right.”
”Do you mean vices?” she queried, innocently.
”Well, no, not in our case; but they might be vices if copied by the lower cla.s.ses. I'm afraid I can't explain myself very clearly. But things that would be quite proper for the best people to do, would be simply grotesque, or worse, if the common orders attempted them.”
”Really, this is most interesting,” she said, half-banteringly, half-seriously. ”Now, out in our country we have no varying standards of right and wrong.”
”Ah! well, that is because you have no aristocracy,” he said, loftily.
”And if I were to marry you, Gervase, and become a lady of quality I should be judged, as it were, by a different set of laws.”
”You would become Lady Tregony when I succeeded to the t.i.tle.”
She laughed. ”That, I fear, is scarcely an answer to my question.”
”Not a full answer, but you see there are so many things that cannot be explained.”
”Evidently. In the meanwhile I belong to the common herd----”
”No, no! Madeline,” he interrupted, quickly.
”My father was only a working man,” she went on, ”and across the water we have no blue bloods; we have blue noses, but that's another matter, but we're all on the same footing there.”
”Not socially, and dollars in America count for what name and t.i.tles count for here.”
”But I haven't even the dollars,” she said, with a laugh.
”But you have,” he protested, quickly. ”That is--I mean--you have not to work for your living. You are not a type-writer girl, or anything of that sort.”
”And should I be any the worse if I were?”
”Well, of course, Madeline, you would be a lady anywhere, or under any circ.u.mstances,” he said, grandiloquently.
”Thank you, Gervase, but suppose we get back again now to the point we started from.”
”I'll be delighted,” he said, eagerly. ”I do want to start the new year with everything settled; that's the reason I pushed myself on to you, as it were, this afternoon. I hate beating about the bush, and all our friends are wondering why the engagement is not announced.”
”Oh, dear! you have gone back miles further than I intended,” she laughed. ”I understood you wanted to warn me against somebody.”
”I do, Madeline. I'm your best friend, if you'll only believe it. And I do beseech you, if you've been in the least friendly with that fellow Sterne, you'll drop him.”
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