"ARE you going to call upon Mrs. Clayton and her daughters, Mrs.Marygold?" asked a neighbor, alluding to a family that had justmoved into Sycamore Row.
"No, indeed, Mrs. Lemmington, that I am not. I don't visiteverybody."
"I thought the Claytons were a very respectable family," remarkedMrs. Lemmington.
"Respectable! Everybody is getting respectable now-a-days. If theyare respectable, it is very lately that they have become so. What isMr. Clayton, I wonder, but a school-master! It's too bad that suchpeople will come crowding themselves into genteel neighborhoods. Thetime was when to live in Sycamore Row was guarantee enough for anyone--but, now, all kinds of people have come into it."
"I have never met Mrs. Clayton," remarked Mrs. Lemmington, "but Ihave been told that she is a most estimable woman, and that herdaughters have been educated with great care. Indeed, they arerepresented as being highly accomplished girls."
"Well, I don't care what they are represented to be. I'm not goingto keep company with a schoolmaster's wife and daughters, that'scertain."
"Is there anything disgraceful in keeping a school?"
"No, nor in making shoes, either. But, then, that's no reason why Ishould keep company with my shoemaker's wife, is it? Let commonpeople associate together--that's my doctrine."
"But what do you mean by common people, Mrs. Marygold?"
"Why, I mean common people. Poor people. People who have not come ofa respectable family. That's what I mean."
"I am not sure that I comprehend your explanation much better than Ido your classification. If you mean, as you say, poor people, yourobjection will not apply with full force to the Claytons, for theyare now in tolerably easy circumstances. As to the family of Mr.Clayton, I believe his father was a man of integrity, though notrich. And Mrs. Clayton's family I know to be without reproach of anykind."
"And yet they are common people for all that," persevered Mrs.Marygold. "Wasn't old Clayton a mere petty dealer in small wares.And wasn't Mrs. Clayton's father a mechanic?"
"Perhaps, if some of us were to go back for a generation or two, wemight trace out an ancestor who held no higher place in society,"Mrs. Lemmington remarked, quietly. "I have no doubt but that Ishould."
"I have no fears of that kind," replied Mrs. Marygold, in anexulting tone. "I shall never blush when my pedigree is traced."
"Nor I neither, I hope. Still, I should not wonder if some one of myancestors had disgraced himself, for there are but few families thatare not cursed with a spotted sheep. But I have nothing to do withthat, and ask only to be judged by what I am--not by what myprogenitors have been."
"A standard that few will respect, let me tell you."
"A standard that far the largest portion of society will regard asthe true one, I hope," replied Mrs. Lemmington. "But, surely, you donot intend refusing to call upon the Claytons for the reason youhave assigned, Mrs. Marygold."
"Certainly I do. They are nothing but common people, and thereforebeneath me. I shall not stoop to associate with them."
"I think that I will call upon them. In fact, my object in droppingin this morning was to see if you would not accompany me," said Mrs.Lemmington.
"Indeed, I will not, and for the reasons I have given. They are onlycommon people. You will be stooping."
"No one stoops in doing a kind act. Mrs. Clayton is a stranger inthe neighborhood, and is entitled to the courtesy of a call, if nomore; and that I shall extend to her. If I find her to beuncongenial in her tastes, no intimate acquaintanceship need beformed. If she is congenial, I will add another to my list of valuedfriends. You and I, I find, estimate differently. I judge everyindividual by merit, you by family, or descent."
"You can do as you please," rejoined Mrs. Marygold, somewhat coldly."For my part, I am particular about my associates. I will visit Mrs.Florence, and Mrs. Harwood, and such an move in good society, but asto your schoolteachers' wives and daughters, I must beg to beexcused."
"Every one to her taste," rejoined Mrs. Lemmington, with a smile, asshe moved towards the door, where she stood for a few moments toutter some parting compliments, and then withdrew.
Five minutes afterwards she was shown into Mrs. Clayton's parlors,where, in a moment or two, she was met by the lady upon whom she hadcalled, and received with an air of easy gracefulness, that at oncecharmed her. A brief conversation convinced her that Mrs. Claytonwas, in intelligence and moral worth, as far above Mrs. Marygold, asthat personage imagined herself to be above her. Her daughters, whocame in while she sat conversing with their mother, showedthemselves to possess all those graces of mind and manner that winupon our admiration so irresistably. An hour passed quickly andpleasantly, and then Mrs. Lemmington withdrew.
The difference between Mrs. Lemmington and Mrs. Marygold was simplythis. The former had been familiar with what is called the bestsociety from her earliest recollection, and being therefore,constantly in association with those looked upon as the upper class,knew nothing of the upstart self-estimation which is felt by certainweak ignorant persons, who by some accidental circumstance areelevated far above the condition into which they moved originally.She could estimate true worth in humble garb as well as in velvetand rich satins. She was one of those individuals who never pass anold and worthy domestic in the street without recognition, orstopping to make some kind inquiry--one who never forgot a familiarface, or neglected to pass a kind word to even the humblest whopossessed the merit of good principles. As to Mrs. Marygold,notwithstanding her boast in regard to pedigree, there were not afew who could remember when her grandfather carried a pedlar's packon his back--and an honest and worthy pedlar he was, saving hispence until they became pounds, and then relinquishing hisperegrinating propensities, for the quieter life of a smallshop-keeper. His son, the father of Mrs. Marygold, while a boy had apretty familiar acquaintance with low life. But, as soon as hisfather gained the means to do so, he was put to school and furnishedwith a good education. Long before he was of age, the old man hadbecome a pretty large shipper; and when his son arrived at matureyears, he took him into business as a partner. In marrying, Mrs.Marygold's father chose a young lady whose father, like his own, hadgrown rich by individual exertions. This young lady had not a fewfalse notions in regard to the true genteel, and these felllegitimately to the share of her eldest daughter, who, when she inturn came upon the stage of action, married into an old and what wascalled a highly respectable family, a circumstance that puffed herup to the full extent of her capacity to bear inflation. There werefew in the circle of her acquaintances who did not fully appreciateher, and smile at her weakness and false pride. Mrs. Florence, towhom she had alluded in her conversation with Mrs. Lemmington, andwho lived in Sycamore Row, was not only faultless in regard tofamily connections, but was esteemed in the most intelligent circlesfor her rich mental endowments and high moral principles. Mrs.Harwood, also alluded to, was the daughter of an English barristerand wife of a highly distinguished professional man, and was besidesrichly endowed herself, morally and intellectually. Although Mrs.Marygold was very fond of visiting them for the mere eclat of thething, yet their company was scarcely more agreeable to her, thanhers was to them, for there was little in common between them.Still, they had to tolerate her, and did so with a good grace.
It was, perhaps, three months after Mrs. Clayton moved into theneighborhood, that cards of invitation were sent to Mr. and Mrs.Marygold and daughter to pass a social evening at Mrs. Harwood's.Mrs. M. was of course delighted and felt doubly proud of her ownimportance. Her daughter Melinda, of whom she was excessively vain,was an indolent, uninteresting girl, too dull to imbibe even a smallportion of her mother's self-estimation. In company, she attractedbut little attention, except what her father's money and standing insociety claimed for her.
On the evening appointed, the Marygolds repaired to the elegantresidence of Mrs. Harwood and were ushered into a large andbrilliant company, more than half of whom were strangers even tothem. Mrs. Lemmington was there, and Mrs. Florence, and many otherswith whom Mrs. Marygold was on terms of intimacy, besides several"distinguished strangers." Among those with whom Mrs. Marygold wasunacquainted, were two young ladies who seemed to attract generalattention. They were not showy, chattering girls, such as in allcompanies attract a swarm of shallow-minded youug fellows about them. On the contrary, there wassomething retiring, almost shrinking in their manner, that shunnedrather than courted observation. And yet, no one, who, attracted bytheir sweet, modest faces, found himself by their side that did notfeel inclined to linger there.
"Who are those girls, Mrs. Lemmington?" asked Mrs. Marygold, meetingthe lady she addressed in crossing the room.
"The two girls in the corner who are attracting so much attention?"
"Yes."
"Don't you know them?"
"I certainly do not."
"They are no common persons, I can assure you, Mrs. Marygold."
"Of course, or they would not be found here. But who are they?"
"Ah, Mrs. Lemmington! how are you?" said a lady, coming up at thismoment, and interrupting the conversation. "I have been looking foryou this half hour." Then, passing her arm within that of theindividual she had addressed, she drew her aside before she had achance to answer Mrs. Marygold's question.
In a few minutes after, a gentleman handed Melinda to the piano, andthere was a brief pause as she struck the instrument, and commencedgoing through the unintelligible intricacies of a fashionable pieceof music. She could strike all the notes with scientific correctnessand mechanical precision. But there was no more expression in herperformance than there is in that of a musical box. After she hadfinished her task, she left the instrument with a few words ofcommendation extorted by a feeling of politeness.
"Will you not favor us with a song?" asked Mr. Harwood, going up toone of the young ladies to whom allusion has just been made.
"My sister sings, I do not," was the modest reply, "but I will takepleasure in accompanying her."
All eyes were fixed upon them as they moved towards the piano,accompanied by Mr. Harwood, for something about their manners,appearance and conversation, had interested nearly all in the roomwho had been led to notice them particularly. The sister who couldnot sing, seated herself with an air of easy confidence at theinstrument, while the other stood near her. The first few touchesthat passed over the keys showed that the performer knew well how togive to music a soul. The tones that came forth were not the simplevibrations of a musical chord, but expressions of affection given byher whose fingers woke the strings into harmony. But if thepreluding touches fell witchingly upon every ear, how exquisitelysweet and thrilling was the voice that stole out low and tremulousat first, and deepened in volume and expression every moment, untilthe whole room seemed filled with melody! Every whisper was hushed,and every one bent forward almost breathlessly to listen. And when,at length, both voice and instrument were hushed into silence, noenthusiastic expressions of admiration were heard, but only half-whispered ejaculations of "exquisite!" "sweet!" "beautiful!" Thencame earnestly expressed wishes for another and another song, untilthe sisters, feeling at length that many must be wearied with theirlong continued occupation of the piano, felt themselves compelled todecline further invitations to sing. No one else ventured to touch akey of the instrument during the evening.
"Do pray, Mrs. Lemmington, tell me who those girls are--I am dyingto know," said Mrs. Marygold, crossing the room to where the personshe addressed was seated with Mrs. Florence and several other ladiesof "distinction," and taking a chair by her side.
"They are only common people," replied Mrs. Lemmington, withaffected indifference.
"Common people, my dear madam! What do you mean by such anexpression?" said Mrs. Florence in surprise, and with something ofindignation latent in her tone.
"I'm sure their father, Mr. Clayton, is nothing but a teacher."
"Mr. Clayton! Surely those are not Clayton's daughters!" ejaculatedMrs. Marygold, in surprise.
"They certainly are ma'am," replied Mrs. Florence in a quiet butfirm voice, for she instantly perceived, from something in Mrs.Marygold's voice and manner, the reason why her friend had alludedto them as common people.
"Well, really, I am surprised that Mrs. Harwood should have invitedthem to her house, and introduced them into genteel company."
"Why so, Mrs. Marygold?"
"Because, as Mrs. Lemmington has just said, they are common people.Their father is nothing but a schoolmaster."
"If I have observed them rightly," Mrs. Florence said to this, "Ihave discovered them to be a rather uncommon kind of people. Almostany one can thrum on the piano; but you will not find one in ahundred who can perform with such exquisite grace and feeling asthey can. For half an hour this evening I sat charmed with theirconversation, and really instructed and elevated by the sentimentsthey uttered. I cannot say as much for any other young ladies in theroom, for there are none others here above the common run ofordinarily intelligent girls--none who may not really be classedwith common people in the true acceptation of the term."
"And take them all in all," added Mrs. Lemmington with warmth, "youwill find nothing common about them. Look at their dress; see howperfect in neatness, in adaptation of colors and arrangement tocomplexion and shape, is every thing about them. Perhaps there willnot be found a single young lady in the room, besides them, whosedress does not show something not in keeping with good taste. Taketheir manners. Are they not graceful, gentle, and yet full ofnature's own expression. In a word, is there any thing about themthat is 'common?'"
"Nothing that my eye has detected," replied Mrs. Florence.
"Except their origin," half-sneeringly rejoined Mrs. Marygold.
"They were born of woman," was the grave remark. "Can any of usboast a higher origin?"
"There are various ranks among women," Mrs. Marygold said, firmly.
"True. But, 'The rank is but the guinea's stamp,The man's the gold for a' that.'
"Mere position in society does not make any of us more or less a truewoman. I could name you over a dozen or more in my circle ofacquaintance, who move in what is called the highest rank; who, inall that truly constitutes a woman, are incomparably below Mrs.Clayton; who, if thrown with her among perfect strangers, would beinstantly eclipsed. Come then, Mrs. Marygold, lay aside all thesefalse standards, and estimate woman more justly. Let me, to begin,introduce both yourself and Melinda to the young ladies thisevening. You will be charmed with them, I know, and equally charmedwith their mother when you know her."
"No, ma'am," replied Mrs. Marygold, drawing herself up with adignified air. "I have no wish to cultivate their acquaintance, orthe acquaintance of any persons in their station. I am surprisedthat Mrs. Harwood has not had more consideration for her friendsthan to compel them to come in contact with such people."
No reply was made to this; and the next remark of Mrs. Florence wasabout some matter of general interest.
"Henry Florence has not been here for a week," said Mrs. Marygold toher daughter Melinda, some two months after the period at which theconversation just noted occurred.
"No; and he used to come almost every evening," was Melinda's reply,made in a tone that expressed disappointment.
"I wonder what can be the reason?" Mrs. Marygold said, half aloud,half to herself, but with evident feelings of concern. The reason ofher concern and Melinda's disappointment arose from the fact thatboth had felt pretty sure of securing Henry Florence as a member ofthe Marygold family--such connection, from his standing in society,being especially desirable.
At the very time the young man was thus alluded to by Mrs. Marygoldand her daughter, he sat conversing with his mother upon a subjectthat seemed, from the expression of his countenance, to be of muchinterest to him.
"So you do not feel inclined to favor any preference on my parttowards Miss Marygold?" he said, looking steadily into his mother'sface.
"I do not, Henry," was the frank reply.
"Why not?"
"There is something too common about her, if I may so expressmyself."
"Too common! What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that there is no distinctive character about her. She is,like the large mass around us, a mere made-up girl."
"Speaking in riddles."
"I mean then, Henry, that her character has been formed, or made up,by mere external accretions from the common-place, vague, and oftentoo false notions of things that prevail in society, instead of bythe force of sound internal principles, seen to be true from arational intuition, and acted upon because they are true. Cannot youperceive the difference?"
"O yes, plainly. And this is why you use the word 'common,' inspeaking of her?"
"The reason. And now my son, can you not see that there is force inmy objection to her--that she really possess any characterdistinctively her own, that is founded upon a clear and rationalappreciation of abstractly correct principles of action?"
"I cannot say that I differ from you very widely," the young mansaid, thoughtfully. "But, if you call Melinda 'common,' where shallI go to find one who may be called 'uncommon?'"
"I can point you to one."
"Say on."
"You have met Fanny Clayton?"
"Fanny Clayton!" ejaculated the young man, taken by surprise, theblood rising to his face. "O yes, I have met her."
"She is no common girl, Henry," Mrs. Florence said, in a seriousvoice. "She has not her equal in my circle of acquaintances."
"Nor in mine either," replied the young man, recovering himself."But you would not feel satisfied to have your son address MissClayton?"
"And why not, pray? Henry, I have never met with a young lady whom Iwould rather see your wife than Fanny Clayton."
"And I," rejoined the young man with equal warmth, "never met withany one whom I could truly love until I saw her sweet young face."
"Then never think again of one like Melinda Marygold. You could notbe rationally happy with her."
Five or six months rolled away, during a large portion of which timethe fact that Henry Florence was addressing Fanny Clayton formed atheme for pretty free comment in various quarters. Most of Henry'sacquaintance heartily approved his choice; but Mrs. Marygold, and afew like her, all with daughters of the "common" class, were deeplyincensed at the idea of a "common kind of a girl" like Miss Claytonbeing forced into genteel society, a consequence that would ofcourse follow her marriage. Mrs. Marygold hesitated not to declarethat for her part, let others do as they liked, she was not going toassociate with her--that was settled. She had too much regard towhat was due to her station in life. As for Melinda, she had no verykind feelings for her successful rival--and such a rival too! A mereschoolmaster's daughter! And she hesitated not to speak of her oftenand in no very courteous terms.
When the notes of invitation to the wedding at length came, whichceremony was to be performed in the house of Mr. Clayton, inSycamore Row, Mrs. Marygold declared that to send her an invitationto go to such a place was a downright insult. As the time, however,drew near, and she found that Mrs. Harwood and a dozen othersequally respectable in her eyes were going to the wedding, shemanaged to smother her indignation so far as, at length, to make upher mind to be present at the nuptial ceremonies. But it was notuntil her ears were almost stunned by the repeated and earnestlyexpressed congratulations to Mrs. Florence at the admirable choicemade by her son, and that too by those whose tastes and opinions shedared not dispute, that she could perceive any thing even passablein the beautiful young bride.
Gradually, however, as the younger Mrs. Florence, in the process oftime, took her true position in the social circle, even Mrs.Marygold could begin to perceive the intrinsic excellence of hercharacter, although even this was more a tacit assent to a universalopinion than a discovery of her own.
As for Melinda, she was married about a year after Fanny Clayton'swedding, to a sprig of gentility with about as much force ofcharacter as herself. This took place on the same night that Lieut.Harwood, son of Mrs. Harwood before alluded to, led to the altarMary Clayton, the sister of Fanny, who was conceded by all, to bethe loveliest girl they had ever seen--lovely, not only in face andform, but loveliness itself in the sweet perfections of moralbeauty. As for Lieut. Harwood, he was worthy of the heart he hadwon.
THE END.
* * * * * * * * * * * *