"MRS. TUDOR is a perfect lady," said my wife, Mrs. Sunderland, to meone day, after having received a visit from the individual shenamed.
"She may have the manners of a lady," I replied, "when abroad; butwhether she be a lady at home or not, is more than I can tell. It iseasy to put on the exterior of a lady; but to be a lady is a verydifferent thing."
"All that is true enough; but why do you connect such remarks withthe name of Mrs. Tudor? Do you know any thing to the contrary of herbeing a lady?--a lady at home, as you say, for instance?"
"No, I can't say that I do; but, somehow or other, I am a littleinclined to be doubtful of the genuineness of Mrs. Tudor's claims tobeing a lady. Once or twice I have thought that I perceived an airof superciliousness to persons who were considered inferior. This isa rigid but true test of any one's claims to being either a lady ora gentleman. No true lady is less careful of the feelings of thosebelow her than she is of those who are upon an equality."
"But you only thought you saw this," said Mrs. Sunderland.
"True, and my thought may be only a thought," I returned, "andunjust to Mrs. Tudor, who may be as much of a lady at home and underall circumstances, as she appears to be when abroad."
"What she is, I have not the least doubt," said my wife.
I never altogether fancied this Mrs. Tudor, although Mrs. Sunderlandliked her very much. Before we built our new house, Mrs. Tudor didnot know us, notwithstanding the fact that our pews had adjoined fortwo or three years. But after that event, Mrs. Tudor found out thatwe had an existence, and became uncommonly gracious with my wife.
Not long after I had spoken out my mind in regard to Mrs. Tudor,that lady, in company with her husband, paid us a visit one evening,and after sitting an hour, invited us to come around and take teawith them on a certain evening in the ensuing week.
When the time came, as we had accepted the invitation, we went. Wefound about a dozen persons assembled, half of whom were entirestrangers to us. Among these I soon perceived that there were two orthree who, in the eyes of Mrs. Tudor, were a little superior to herother guests. On our entrance, we were introduced to them first, andwith particular formality, our lady hostess pronouncing their namesin a very distinct manner, while her articulation of ours was so lowthat they were scarcely, if at all, heard. During the hour thatpassed before tea was announced, Mrs. Tudor confined her attentionsalmost exclusively to these two or three individuals, who wereevidently persons of more consequence than the rest of us. Soapparent was all this, that most of those who were in the room,instead of joining in the conversation, sat looking at the morefavoured guests.
"They must be persons of some importance," I could not help sayingto my wife in an undertone, in which her quick ear detectedsomething of sarcasm.
"For mercy's sake, Mr. Sunderland!" she replied, in a voice thatonly reached my own ears, "don't make remarks upon any of thecompany."
If she had said, "It is not gentlemanly to do so," she could nothave conveyed what she wished to utter more distinctly than she did.
I felt the force of her reproof, but could not resist theinclination I felt to reply.
"We have so good an example of what is polite and genteel, that itis not to be wondered if we profit a little."
"Mr. Sunderland! Why, will you!" My wife seemed distressed.
I said no more on the subject, content with having let her know thatI was noticing the conduct of her perfect lady. I believe, if Icould have seen her thoughts, that among them I would have detectedthis one among the rest; that it was not exactly fair andgentlemanly in me to remind her so promptly of the error she hadprobably committed in her estimate of Mrs. Tudor's character.
Fully absorbed as she was in showing attentions to her more favouredguests, Mrs. Tudor did not perceive the cold, uncomfortable,unsocial feeling that had crept over the rest of her company.
Tea was at last announced. I felt relieved at this, and so, Iperceived, did most of those around me. At the tea-table I expectedto find Mrs. Tudor more general in her attentions. But no. Thesefavoured ones were served first, and "Mrs.--, will you have this?"and "Mrs.--, will you have that?" were almost exclusively confinedto three persons at the table. Mr. Tudor, I remarked, noticed this,for he exerted himself in order to make all the rest feel at ease,which he succeeded in doing to some extent.
Waiting upon the table was a female domestic, a young girl of goodmanners and appearance. To her Mrs. Tudor uniformly spoke in a waythat must have been felt as peculiarly disagreeable. The blandestsmile; and the most winning expression of voice, would instantlychange, when Lucy was addressed, to a cold, supercilious look, andan undertone of command. Several times I saw the blood mount to thegirl's forehead, as a word or tone more marked and offensive thanusual would be given so loudly as to be perceived by all. Once ortwice, at such times, I could not resist a glance at Mrs.Sunderland, which was generally met with a slight, rebukingcontraction of her brow.
Through the efforts of Mr. Tudor, who certainly did his part well,the tea-table party was a good deal more social than had been theindividuals composing it while in the parlour. The favoured guests,notwithstanding the incense offered them by our hostess, appeared inno way to esteem themselves as better than the rest, and, as soon asopportunity was afforded them, tried to be at home with every one.Once more in the parlours, and arranged there by a kind of socialcrystallization, I perceived that Mrs. Tudor was sitting between twoof the ladies who were considered by her worthy of the most markedattention. There she sat during nearly the whole of the evening,except when refreshments were introduced, when she accompanied Lucyround the room, occasionally speaking to her in a tone of offensivecommand or cutting rebuke.
For one, I was glad when the time came to go home, and I ratherthink that all present were as much relieved, in getting away, as Iwas.
"What is your opinion now?" said I, triumphantly, to Mrs.Sunderland, the moment we were in the street.
"My opinion," she replied, a little sharply, "is, that you did notact, in several instances, this evening, like a gentleman!"
"I did not!" I spoke with affected surprise only; for I thought Iknew what it was she meant.
"No, I am sorry to say that you did not. Nothing could have beenmore improper than the notice you took of what was passing. A truegentlemanly spirit would have led you to look away from, rather thanat the weakness of our hostess."
"Look away from it, Mrs. Sunderland! How could I do that, pray? Itwas before my eyes all the time."
"You ought to have shut your eyes, then."
"Nonsense."
"Very far from it, Mr. Sunderland! You are ready enough to see thefaults of other people!"--(in this, I must confess, my wife did noterr very much)--"but quite willing to shut your eyes to your own.Now, I think you acted just as bad as Mrs. Tudor; and, in fact,worse."
"Worse! You are complimentary, Mrs. Sunderland."
"I can't help it if I am. Mrs. Tudor was led by her weakness toconduct herself in an unlady-like manner; but you, with her examplebefore your eyes, and in a mood to reflect, permitted yourself toremark upon her conduct in a way calculated to give pain."
"In the name of wonder, what are you driving at, Mrs. Sunderland? Noone but you heard any remark I made."
"I wish I could think so."
"Who, besides yourself, heard what I said?"
"Mr. Tudor."
"Impossible!"
"He was sitting very near us when you so far forgot yourself as tonotice, verbally, what was passing, and I am well satisfied, eitherheard distinctly what was said, or enough to enable him tounderstand the nature of all you said."
"You are surely mistaken," said I, feeling a good deal mortified,and perceiving much more clearly than I did before the nature of myoffence against good manners and propriety of conduct.
"I wish I were. But I fear I am not. I know that Mr. Tudor lookedaround toward you suddenly, and I noticed that he was much moreparticular afterward in his attentions to the rest of the company.At table, you may have yourself remarked this."
"Yes, I noticed it."
"And yet, even at the table, when he was doing his best, you againhurt his feelings."
"Me!"
"Yes, you. When Mrs. Tudor spoke harshly to Lucy, or did somethingor other that you thought out of the way, you must look your sarcasmat me, notwithstanding the eyes of her husband were upon you."
"But he didn't see me, then."
"Yes, but he did. I saw him looking directly at you."
"Oh, no! it cannot be." I was unwilling to believe this.
"I wish it were not so for my husband's sake," returned Mrs.Sunderland. "But the evidence of my senses I generally find itnecessary to credit."
I must own that I felt considerably cut up, or cut down, whicheveris the most mortifying state to be in. To look and whisper mycensure in company, I had thought no great harm; but now that I hadfound I had been discovered in the act, I had a mortifying sense ofits impropriety.
"Well, anyhow," said I, rallying myself, and speaking with somelightness of tone, "it is clear that Mrs. Tudor is no lady, for allyou thought her such a pattern-card of gentility."
"And I have not the least doubt," retorted my wife, "that it isequally clear to Mr. Tudor that you are no gentleman. So, on thatscore, the account stands fairly balanced between the two families."
This was a pretty hard hit; and I felt a little "riled up," as theYankees say, but I concluded that the uttering of a few sharpsayings to my wife, under the circumstances, would not prove myclaim to being a gentleman, especially against the facts of thecase; so I cooled down, and walked home rather silently, and in notthe best humour with myself.
On the next morning, I took up a little book from my wife's bureau,and sat down to look over it while waiting for the breakfast bell.It was a book of aphorisms, and I opened at once to a page where aleaf was turned down. A slight dot with a pencil directed my eyes toa particular line, which read--
"He who lives in a glass house shouldn't throw stones."
I am not sure that Mrs. Sunderland turned down that leaf in thebook, and marked the sentiment for my especial benefit; though Istrongly suspected her. At any rate, I deemed it best not to ask thequestion.
THE END.
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