“HOW finely she looks!” said Margaret Winne, as a lady swept by them in
the crowd; “I do not see that time wears upon her beauty at all.”
“What, Bell Walters!” exclaimed her companion. “Are you one of those who
think her such a beauty?”
“I think her a very fine-looking woman, certainly,” returned Mrs. Winne;
“and, what is more, I think her a very fine woman.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Hall; “I thought you were no friends?”
“No,” replied the first speaker; “but that does not make us enemies.”
“But I tell you she positively dislikes you, Margaret,” said Mrs. Hall.
“It is only a few days since I knew of her saying that you were a bold,
impudent woman, and she did not like you at all.”
“That is bad,” said Margaret, with a smile; “for I must confess that I
like her.”
“Well,” said her companion, “I am sure I could never like any one who
made such unkind speeches about me.”
“I presume she said no more than she thought,” said Margaret, quietly.
“Well, so much the worse!” exclaimed Mrs. Hall, in surprise. “I hope you
do not think that excuses the matter at all?”
“Certainly, I do. I presume she has some reason for thinking as she
does; and, if so, it was very natural she should express her opinion.”
“Well, you are very cool and candid about it, I must say. What reason
have you given her, pray, for thinking you were bold and impudent?”
“None, that I am aware of,” replied Mrs. Winne, “but I presume she
thinks I have. I always claim her acquaintance, when we meet, and I have
no doubt she would much rather I would let it drop.”
“Why don't you, then? I never knew her, and never had any desire for
her acquaintance. She was no better than you when you were girls, and I
don't think her present good fortune need make her so very scornful.”
“I do not think she exhibits any more haughtiness than most people would
under the same circumstances. Some would have dropped the acquaintance
at once, without waiting for me to do it. Her social position is higher
than mine, and it annoys her to have me meet her as an equal, just I
used to do.”
“You do it to annoy her, then?”
“Not by any means. I would much rather she would feel, as I do, that
the difference between us is merely conventional, and might bear to be
forgotten on the few occasions when accident throws us together. But she
does not, and I presume it is natural. I do not know how my head might
be turned, if I had climbed up in the world as rapidly as she has done.
As it is, however, I admire her too much to drop her acquaintance just
yet, as long as she leaves it to me.”
“Really, Margaret, I should have supposed you had too much spirit to
intrude yourself upon a person that you knew wished to shake you off;
and I do not see how you can admire one that you know to be so proud.”
“I do not admire her on account of her pride, certainly, though it is
a quality that sits very gracefully upon her,” said Margaret Winne; and
she introduced another topic of conversation, for she did not hope to
make her companion understand the motives that influenced her.
“Bold and impudent!” said Margaret, to herself, as she sat alone, in her
own apartment. “I knew she thought it, for I have seen it in her looks;
but she always treats me well externally, and I hardly thought she would
say it. I know she was vexed with herself for speaking to me, one day,
when she was in the midst of a circle of her fashionable acquaintances.
I was particularly ill-dressed, and I noticed that they stared at me;
but I had no intention, then, of throwing myself in her way. Well,” she
continued, musingly, “I am not to be foiled with one rebuff. I know her
better than she knows me, for the busy world has canvassed her life,
while they have never meddled with my own: and I think there are points
of contact enough between us for us to understand each other, if we
once found an opportunity. She stands in a position which I shall never
occupy, and she has more power and strength than I; else she had never
stood where she does, for she has shaped her fortunes by her own unaided
will. Her face was not her fortune, as most people suppose, but her
mind. She has accomplished whatever she has undertaken, and she can
accomplish much more, for her resources are far from being developed.
Those around her may remember yet that she was not always on a footing
with them; but they will not do so long. She will be their leader, for
she was born to rule. Yes; and she queens it most proudly among them. It
were a pity to lose sight of her stately, graceful dignity. I regard
her very much as I would some beautiful exotic, and her opinion of me
affects me about as much as if she were the flower, and not the mortal.
And yet I can never see her without wishing that the influence she
exerts might be turned into a better channel. She has much of good about
her, and I think that it needs but a few hints to make life and its
responsibilities appear to her as they do to me. I have a message for
her ear, but she must not know that it was intended for her. She has too
much pride of place to receive it from me, and too much self-confidence
to listen knowingly to the suggestions of any other mind than her own.
Therefore, I will seek the society of Isabel Walters whenever I can,
without appearing intrusive, until she thinks me worthy her notice, or
drops me altogether. My talent lies in thinking, but she has all the
life and energy I lack, and would make an excellent actor to my thought,
and would need no mentor when her attention was once aroused. My
usefulness must lie in an humble sphere, but hers--she can carry it
wherever she will. It will be enough for my single life to accomplish,
if, beyond the careful training of my own family, I can incite her to a
development of her powers of usefulness. People will listen to her who
will pay no attention to me; and, besides, she has the time and means to
spare, which I have not.”
“Everywhere, in Europe, they were talking of you, Mrs. Walters,” said
a lady, who had spent many years abroad, “and adopting your plans for
vagrant and industrial schools, and for the management of hospitals and
asylums. I have seen your name in the memorials laid before government
in various foreign countries. You have certainly achieved a world-wide
reputation. Do tell me how your attention came first to be turned to
that sort of thing? I supposed you were one of our fashionable women,
who sought simply to know how much care and responsibility they could
lawfully avoid, and how high a social station it was possible to
attain. I am sure something must have happened to turn your life into so
different a channel.”
“Nothing in particular, I assure you,” returned Mrs. Walters. “I came
gradually to perceive the necessity there was that some one should take
personal and decisive action in those things that it was so customary
to neglect. Fond as men are of money, it was far easier to reach their
purses than their minds. Our public charities were quite well endowed,
but no one gave them that attention that they needed, and thus evils had
crept in that were of the highest importance. My attention was attracted
to it in my own vicinity at first; and others saw it as well as I, but
it was so much of everybody's business that everybody let it alone. I
followed the example for awhile, but it seemed as much my duty to act as
that of any other person; and though it is little I have done, I
think that, in that little, I have filled the place designed for me by
Providence.”
“Well, really, Mrs. Walters, you were one of the last persons I should
have imagined to be nicely balancing a point of duty, or searching out
the place designed for them by Providence. I must confess myself at
fault in my judgment of character for once.”
“Indeed, madam,” replied Mrs. Walters, “I have no doubt you judged me
very correctly at the time you knew me. My first ideas of the duties and
responsibilities of life were aroused by Margaret Winne; and I recollect
that my intimacy with her commenced after you left the country.”
“Margaret Winne? Who was she? Not the wife of that little Dr. Winne we
used to hear of occasionally? They attended the same church with us, I
believe?”
“Yes; she was the one. We grew up together, and were familiar with each
other's faces from childhood; but this was about all. She was always in
humble circumstances, as I had myself been in early life; and, after my
marriage, I used positively to dislike her, and to dread meeting her,
for she was the only one of my former acquaintances who met me on the
same terms as she had always done. I thought she wished to remind me
that we were once equals in station; but I learned, when I came to know
her well, how far she was above so mean a thought. I hardly know how
I came first to appreciate her, but we were occasionally thrown in
contact, and her sentiments were so beautiful--so much above the common
stamp--that I could not fail to be attracted by her. She was a noble
woman. The world knows few like her. So modest and retiring--with an
earnest desire to do all the good in the world of which she was capable,
but with no ambition to shine. Well fitted as she was, to be an ornament
in any station of society, she seemed perfectly content to be the idol
of her own family, and known to few besides. There were few subjects on
which she had not thought, and her clear perceptions went at once to the
bottom of a subject, so that she solved simply many a question on which
astute philosophers had found themselves at fault. I came at last to
regard her opinion almost as an oracle. I have often thought, since her
death, that it was her object to turn my life into that channel to which
it has since been devoted, but I do not know. I had never thought of the
work that has since occupied me at the time of her death, but I can see
now how cautiously and gradually she led me among the poor, and taught
me to sympathize with their sufferings, and gave me, little by little,
a clue to the evils that had sprung up in the management of our public
charities. She was called from her family in the prime of life, but they
who come after her do assuredly rise up and call her blessed. She has
left a fine family, who will not soon forget, the instructions of their
mother.”
“Ah! yes, there it is, Mrs. Walters. A woman's sphere, after all, is at
home. One may do a great deal of good in public, no doubt, as you have
done; but don't you think that, while you have devoted yourself so
untiringly to other affairs, you have been obliged to neglect your own
family in order to gain time for this? One cannot live two lives at
once, you know.”
“No, madam, certainly we cannot live two lives at once, but we can glean
a much larger harvest from the one which is, bestowed upon us than we
are accustomed to think. I do not, by any means, think that I have ever
neglected my own family in the performance of other duties, and I trust
my children are proving, by their hearty co-operation with me, that I am
not mistaken. Our first duty, certainly is at home, and I determined,
at the outset, that nothing should call me from the performance of this
first charge. I do not think anything can excuse a mother from devoting
a large portion of her life in personal attention to the children God
has given her. But I can assure you that, to those things which I have
done of which the world could take cognisance, I have given far less
time than I used once to devote to dress and amusement, I found, by
systematizing everything, that my time was more than doubled; and,
certainly, I was far better fitted to attend properly to my own family,
when my eyes, were opened to the responsibilities of life, than when my
thoughts were wholly occupied by fashion and display.”