A MORNING CALL.
Had Valentine known who the brothers were, or where they lived, he
would before now have called to thank them again for their kindness
to him; but he imagined they had some distance to go after
depositing him, and had not yet discovered his mistake. The visit
now paid had nothing to do with him.
The two elder girls, curious about the pretty cottage, had come
wandering down the spur, or hill-toe, as far as its precincts--if
precincts they may be called where was no fence, only a little grove
and a less garden. Beside the door stood a milk-pail and a churn,
set out to be sweetened by the sun and wind. It was very rural, they
thought, and very homely, but not so attractive as some cottages in
the south:--it indicated a rusticity honoured by the most
unceremonious visit from its superiors. Thus without hesitation
concluding, Christina, followed by Mercy, walked in at the open
door, found a barefooted girl in the kitchen, and spoke pleasantly
to her. She, in simple hospitality forgetting herself, made answer
in Gaelic; and, never doubting the ladies had come to call upon her
mistress, led the way, and the girls, without thinking, followed her
to the parlour.
As they came, they had been talking. Had they been in any degree
truly educated, they would have been quite capable of an opinion of
their own, for they had good enough faculties; but they had never
been really taught to read; therefore, with the utmost confidence,
they had been passing judgment upon a book from which they had not
gathered the slightest notion as to the idea or intention of the
writer. Christina was of that numerous class of readers, who, if you
show one thing better or worse than another, will without hesitation
report that you love the one and hate the other. If you say, for
instance, that it is a worse and yet more shameful thing for a man
to break his wife's heart by systematic neglect, than to strike her
and be sorry for it, such readers give out that you approve of
wife-beating, and perhaps write to expostulate with you on your
brutality. If you express pleasure that a poor maniac should have
succeeded in escaping through the door of death from his haunting
demon, they accuse you of advocating suicide. But Mercy was not yet
afloat on the sea of essential LIE whereon Christina swung to every
wave.
One question they had been discussing was, whether the hero of the
story was worthy the name of lover, seeing he deferred offering his
hand to the girl because she told her mother a FIB to account for
her being with him in the garden after dark. "It was cowardly and
unfair," said Christina: "was it not for HIS sake she did it?" Mercy
did not think to say "WAS IT?" as she well might. "Don't you see,
Chrissy," she said, "he reasoned this way: 'If she tell her mother a
lie, she may tell me a lie some day too!'?" So indeed the youth did
reason; but it occurred to neither of his critics to note the fact
that he would not have minded the girl's telling her mother the lie,
if he could have been certain she would never tell HIM one! In
regard to her hiding from him certain passages with another
gentleman, occurring between this event and his proposal, Christina
judged he had no right to know them, and if he had, their
concealment was what he deserved.
When the girl, who would have thought it rude to ask their names--if
I mistake not, it was a point in highland hospitality to entertain
without such inquiry--led the way to the parlour, they followed
expecting they did not know what: they had heard of the cowhouse, the
stable, and even the pigsty, being under the same roof in these parts!
When the opening door disclosed "lady" Macruadh, every inch a chieftain's
widow, their conventional breeding failed them a little; though incapable
of recognizing a refinement beyond their own, they were not incapable
of feeling its influence; and they had not yet learned how to be rude
with propriety in unproved circumstances--still less how to be gracious
without a moment's notice. But when a young man sprang from a couch,
and the stately lady rose and advanced to receive them, it was too
late to retreat, and for a moment they stood abashed, feeling, I am
glad to say, like intruders. The behaviour of the lady and gentleman,
however, speedily set them partially at ease. The latter, with movements
more than graceful, for they were gracious, and altogether free of
scroll-pattern or Polonius-flourish, placed chairs, and invited them
to be seated, and the former began to talk as if their entrance were
the least unexpected thing in the world. Leaving them to explain
their visit or not as they saw fit, she spoke of the weather, the
harvest, the shooting; feared the gentlemen would be disappointed:
the birds were quite healthy, but not numerous--they had too many
enemies to multiply! asked if they had seen the view from such and
such a point;--in short, carried herself as one to whom cordiality
to strangers was an easy duty. But she was not taken with them. Her
order of civilization was higher than theirs; and the simplicity as
well as old-fashioned finish of her consciousness recoiled a
little--though she had not experience enough of a certain kind to be able
at once to say what it was in the manner and expression of the young
ladies that did not please her.
Mammon, gaining more and more of the upper hand in all social
relations, has done much to lower the PETITE as well as the GRANDE
MORALE of the country--the good breeding as well as the honesty.
Unmannerliness with the completest self-possession, is a poor
substitute for stiffness, a poorer for courtesy. Respect and
graciousness from each to each is of the very essence of
Christianity, independently of rank, or possession, or relation. A
certain roughness and rudeness have usurped upon the intercourse of
the century. It comes of the spread of imagined greatness; true
greatness, unconscious of itself, cannot find expression other than
gracious. In the presence of another, a man of true breeding is but
faintly aware of his own self, and keenly aware of the other's self.
Before the human--that bush which, however trodden and peeled, yet
burns with the divine presence--the man who thinks of the homage due
to him, and not of the homage owing by him, is essentially rude.
Mammon is slowly stifling and desiccating Rank; both are miserable
deities, but the one is yet meaner than the other. Unrefined
families with money are received with open arms and honours paid, in
circles where a better breeding than theirs has hitherto prevailed:
this, working along with the natural law of corruption where is no
aspiration, has gradually caused the deterioration of which I speak.
Courtesy will never regain her former position, but she will be
raised to a much higher; like Duty she will be known as a daughter
of the living God, "the first stocke father of gentilnes;" for in
his neighbour every man will see a revelation of the Most High.
Without being able to recognize the superiority of a woman who lived
in a cottage, the young ladies felt and disliked it; and the matron
felt the commonness of the girls, without knowing what exactly it
was. The girls, on the other hand, were interested in the young man:
he looked like a gentleman! Ian was interested in the young women:
he thought they were shy, when they were only "put out," and wished
to make them comfortable--in which he quickly succeeded. His
unconsciously commanding air in the midst of his great courtesy,
roused their admiration, and they had not been many minutes in his
company ere they were satisfied that, however it was to be accounted
for, the young man was in truth very much of a gentleman. It was an
unexpected discovery of northern produce, and "the estate" gathered
interest in their eyes. Christina did the greater part of the
talking, but both did their best to be agreeable.
Ian saw quite as well as his mother what ordinary girls they were,
but, accustomed to the newer modes in manner and speech, he was not
shocked by movements and phrases that annoyed her. The mother
apprehended fascination, and was uneasy, though far from showing it.
When they rose, Ian attended them to the door, leaving his mother
anxious, for she feared he would accompany them home. Till he
returned, she did not resume her seat.
The girls took their way along the ridge in silence, till the ruin
was between them and the cottage, when they burst into laughter.
They were ladies enough not to laugh till out of sight, but not
ladies enough to see there was nothing to laugh at.
"A harp, too!" said Christina. "Mercy, I believe we are on the top
of mount Ararat, and have this very moment left the real Noah's ark,
patched into a cottage! Who CAN they be?"
"Gentlefolk evidently," said Mercy, "--perhaps old-fashioned people
from Inverness."
"The young man must have been to college!--In the north, you know,"
continued Christina, thinking with pride that her brother was at
Oxford, "nothing is easier than to get an education, such as it is!
It costs in fact next to nothing. Ploughmen send their sons to St.
Andrew's and Aberdeen to make gentlemen of them! Fancy!"
"You must allow this case a successful one!"
"I didn't mean HIS father was a ploughman! That is impossible!
Besides, I heard him call that very respectable person MOTHER! She
is not a ploughman's wife, but evidently a lady of the middle
class."
Christina did not count herself or her people to belong to the
middle class. How it was it is not quite easy to say--perhaps the
tone of implied contempt with which the father spoke of the lower
classes, and the quiet negation with which the mother would allude
to shopkeepers, may have had to do with it--but the young people all
imagined themselves to belong to the upper classes! It was a pity
there was no title in the family--but any of the girls might well
marry a coronet! There were indeed persons higher than they; a duke
was higher; the queen was higher--but that was pleasant! it was nice
to have a few to look up to!
On anyone living in a humble house, not to say a poor cottage, they
looked down, as the case might be, with indifference or patronage;
they little dreamed how, had she known all about them, the
respectable person in the cottage would have looked down upon THEM!
At the same time the laugh in which they now indulged was not
altogether one of amusement; it was in part an effort to avenge
themselves of a certain uncomfortable feeling of rebuke.
"I will tell you my theory, Mercy!" Christina went on. "The lady is
the widow of an Indian officer--perhaps a colonel. Some of their
widows are left very poor, though, their husbands having been in the
service of their country, they think no small beer of themselves!
The young man has a military air which he may have got from his
father; or he may be an officer himself: young officers are always
poor; that's what makes them so nice to flirt with. I wonder whether
he really IS an officer! We've actually called upon the people, and
come away too, without knowing their names!"
"I suppose they're from the New House!" said Ian, returning after he
had bowed the ladies from the threshold, with the reward of a
bewitching smile from the elder, and a shy glance from the younger.
"Where else could they be from?" returned his mother; "--come to
make our poor country yet poorer!"
"They're not English!"
"Not they!--vulgar people from Glasgow!"
"I think you are too hard on them, mother! They are not exactly
vulgar. I thought, indeed, there was a sort of gentleness about them
you do not often meet in Scotch girls!"
"In the lowlands, I grant, Ian; but the daughter of the poorest
tacksman of the Macruadhs has a manner and a modesty I have seen in
no Sasunnach girl yet. Those girls are bold!"
"Self-possessed, perhaps!" said Ian.
Upon the awkwardness he took for shyness, had followed a reaction.
It was with the young ladies a part of good breeding, whatever
mistake they made, not to look otherwise than contented with
themselves: having for a moment failed in this principle, they were
eager to make up for it.
"Girls are different from what they used to be, I fancy, mother!"
added Ian thoughtfully.
"The world changes very fast!" said the mother sadly. She was
thinking, like Rebecca, if her sons took a fancy to these who were
not daughters of the land, what good would her life do her.
"Ah, mother dear," said Ian, "I have never"--and as he spoke the
cloud deepened on his forehead--"seen more than one woman whose ways
and manners reminded me of you!"
"And what was she?" the mother asked, in pleased alarm.
But she almost repented the question when she saw how low the cloud
descended on his countenance.
"A princess, mother. She is dead," he answered, and turning walked
so gently from the room that it was impossible for his mother to
detain him.