THE season was now fairly opened, and Mrs. Gaston kept her young guest liberally supplied with amusement. There were all sorts of entertainments for them to go to, some of which Margaret found very inspiring and , and some extremely dull. Cousin Eugenia, however, found nothing unprofitable. Every visit and every entertainment served some purpose, in her economy, and, if she failed to actual diversion from any, it still fulfilled some end, and in some manner was turned to account.
She would take Margaret with her on the endless round of afternoon calls that she made, never doubting that she was conferring an immense favor on her young country cousin, until the latter begged to be excused from some of them, confessing that they wearied her. This was a great surprise to Cousin Eugenia, who cherished the honest conviction that every opportunity of a glimpse of the great world of fashion must perforce be a high privilege and delight by this little Southern cousin, whom she pitied profoundly for her necessary from such sources of happiness. Margaret was aware of this, and secretly much amused at it. That Cousin Eugenia, or any one, should her upon her lot in life was something very strange to her, for she had always known herself to be a very happy and fortunate girl.
“The Kellers give such stupid parties!” said Cousin Eugenia one evening, as she and Margaret were returning from a large entertainment. “I haven’t missed one of them for the past five years, and they are affairs. I’m glad this one is well over.”
“Why do you go to them, then?”
“Oh, every one does. At least every one who can. You saw how full the rooms were this evening, and yet every one there was bored.”
“I was, undoubtedly,” said Margaret, “and for that reason I should certainly not go again.”
“You can afford to be independent, my dear, being here only on a visit, but if you lived in Washington you’d soon find that it was desirable for you to be seen at the Kellers’.”
“Why?”
“Oh, because of their position.”
Margaret was silent a moment, and then she said :
“Do excuse my asking such a thing, Cousin Eugenia, but I really want to understand. Could it possibly enhance your social value to be seen anywhere?”
Cousin Eugenia gave a little .
“You put things so oddly, child, with your Southern notions! Of course our social position is and definite and nobody would dispute it. But, large as the Kellers’ circle is, their parties are very recherché, and it’s well worth while to be seen there.”
“I thought——” began Margaret.
“Well, go on,” said her cousin, as the girl hesitated. “Out with it. Let me hear.”
“I was only going to say that I thought a lady, born and reared, never had to think of anything like that.”
“Like what?”
“Where she is seen and whether her associations will be considered correct. I thought that it would all come of itself—that a lady would not be in danger of making mistakes of that sort, because what she did would be the natural outgrowth of what she was.”
“Those may be the Southern ideas, but you’d not find them to answer here.”
“I don’t know whether they are Southern ideas or not,” said Margaret; “I never knew they were ideas at all. Certainly, I have never heard them before, and I don’t quite know how to express myself. They simply seem to me instincts.”
“That’s because of the associations you have had,” said Mrs. Gaston. “I have seen very little of your parents of late years, but they have lived in my mind as people of thorough . Your father is a model of a gentleman—the most high-bred man I ever knew, I think.”
A radiant light came into Margaret’s face.
“My darling, dear old father!” she said, fondly. “There is surely no one like him, and yet if I were to repeat your compliment to him, how amazed he would be! He has not an idea how fine he is, and has never once paused to consider whether he is high-bred or not. He would not hurt the feelings of the lowest on earth—there is no one too mean for his consideration. May I tell you an idea that has occurred to me, when I’ve been in society here, surrounded by such well-dressed, elegant looking, men, and have compared them to him? It is that they are all trying to be what he is.”
Mrs. Gaston did not reply at once, but her silence proceeded from no feeling of intolerance of this sentiment. She was not at all given to resenting things, partly because of a natural indolence, and partly because she did not feel enough on any subject to be by impulse.
“I can understand your having that feeling about your father,” she said, presently, “and it’s quite possible it may be true. We will submit the point when we find any one wise enough to decide it for us. But the world is large, and there are many men and many minds, and manners vary in different places. That line of tactics would not do in Washington.”
At this point in their conversation they found themselves at home, and the subject was consequently dropped.
It happened about this time that some of Mrs. Gaston’s wide circle of Southern connections, who were always cropping up in Washington, came to the city, and Cousin Eugenia took Margaret and went to call upon—or, as she did not hesitate to put it, to inspect them. They were a General and Mrs. Reardon, the former an ex-Confederate officer, who had been in the United States army, and who was distantly related to both Mrs. Gaston and Margaret, though neither of them had anything more than a slight acquaintance with him.
Margaret soon perceived that Cousin Eugenia did not consider them up to the mark socially—a fact which was further evidenced by their being invited to lunch, and not to dinner, next day. No one was asked to meet them, and Mrs. Gaston excused the gentlemen on the score of business hours. Margaret the whole , and saw through it and beyond it. Cousin Eugenia was perfectly polite and pleasant—extremely sweet, in fact—and yet there was something in her manner toward these simple Southern people, of a type so familiar to Margaret Trevennon, that the girl involuntarily resented. She showed none of this feeling to Mrs. Gaston, however, for she was beginning to understand that, although that clever lady in matters of abstract theory appeared to be most reasonable and open to conviction, she was itself in carrying out her designs and purposes, and quite unused to interference from any one.
The Reardons came next day, according to appointment, and the little luncheon-party passed off very pleasantly, greatly owing to Margaret’s efforts to make it do so.
When the guests were taking leave, they asked if Mrs. Gaston and Margaret would not go with them to an Art Exhibition in the evening. The proposal came, in a and deprecating sort of way, from Mrs. Reardon, who was still young and pretty enough to be somewhat eager for pleasure, and although Mrs. Gaston declined it for herself, on the score of indisposition, she encouraged Margaret to go, and the latter very willingly agreed to do so.
She went accordingly, and was pretty well entertained with what she saw, recognizing some acquaintances, among whom was young Mr. Leary, who had been to call again, with better success next time, and who had always been especially polite to Margaret on meeting her in society. Shortly before leaving, an acquaintance of General Reardon’s came up, to whom Margaret was presented. He was a Major King, a Southern man, as Margaret somehow divined at a glance, and a resident of Washington, as it soon appeared. Before the party separated, he inquired where Miss Trevennon was staying, and asked her permission to call upon her. Margaret yielded the permission, of course, but with a strange feeling of ; she saw that, though a familiar type of Southern man, he was not a favorable one. There was a sort of aggressive self-confidence in his bearing, which was unpleasant enough to her, but which she knew would be offensive to the prejudiced minds of the Gastons. He belonged to a class she knew well—men whose range of vision had been limited, but who were of a feeling of superiority to others in general, and an absolute conviction of superiority to the best Yankee that ever lived. It was an attitude of mind that had always irritated her, but she had never felt the force of it with such indignation as now, when she was being hourly impressed with the worth and superior qualities of these people whom her Southern compatriots regarded with such scorn. If Major King should come to call, however, she could feel confident that he would not betray the presence of this feeling, for, despite her of his tone and manner in general, she felt that she could count upon his possessing a spirit of courtesy, a hidden germ of which she had rarely found wanting in a Southern man’s breast.
Margaret mentioned, at breakfast next morning, the fact of her having met Major King, and inquired of her friends if they knew him. The two gentlemen were silent, and Mrs. Gaston replied by a simple negative. She had intended to mention the fact that he had proposed to call upon her, but some instinct prevented her doing so. Very probably he would not come; and, besides, she had an indefinable feeling that there was danger in the topic.
It had become a habit with Margaret to go from the breakfast-table to the bow-window, on the corner of the house, to watch for the coming of the postman, and recently Mr. Gaston had fallen into the way of accompanying her. As the two young people found themselves together in the richly curtained , Margaret turned to her companion, with a smile, and said:
“Mr. Leary was there last night. He talked to me for quite half an hour. Ought I to have been elated?”
“Certainly not,” replied the young man, frowning slightly. “Why do you ask such a thing? The idea is quite absurd.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” said Margaret, smiling. “He has so little sense, and he talks so much about himself. Here comes the postman!” She broke off suddenly, running to open the door herself, never divining that it would have been considered more decorous to wait until Thomas came up from the lower regions, and, with his usual deliberation, brought in the letters on his silver tray.