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in most of those who think a very expensive handkerchief necessary to
their happiness. It is, in fact, the natural indication that the mind dwells
more on show than on substantial things, and a proof that the possessor
of this quality is not content to rely altogether on the higher moral
feelings and attainments for her claims to deference. In a word, it is
some such trait as that which distinguishes the beautiful plumage of the
peacock, from the motive that incites the bird to display his feathers.
In company with Miss Monson was another young lady of about her
own age, and of a very similar appearance as to dress and station. Still,
a first glance discovered an essential difference in character. This
companion, who was addressed as Mary, and whose family name was
Warren, had none of the uneasiness of demeanor that belonged to her
friend, and obviously cared less what others thought of every thing she
said or did. When the handkerchiefs were laid on the counter, Julia
Monson seized on one with avidity, while Mary Warren regarded us all
with a look of cold indifference, if not one of downright displeasure.
"What beauties!" exclaimed the first, the clerk at that moment quitting
them to hand some gloves to another customer--"What delightful
needle-work! Mary, do YOU purchase one to keep me in
countenance, and I will purchase another. I know your mother gave you
the money this very morning."
"Not for that object, Julia. My dear mother little thinks I shall do any
such thing."
"And why not? A rich pocket-handkerchief is a stylish thing!"
"I question if style, as you call it, is just the thing for a young woman,
under any circumstances; but, to confess the truth, I think a pocket-
handkerchief that is to be LOOKED at and which is not to be USED,
vulgar."
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"Not in Sir Walter Scott's signification, my dear," answered Julia
laughing, "for it is not so very COMMON. Every body cannot have a
worked French pocket-handkerchief."
{Sir Walter Scott = British novelist and poet (1771-1832), often
compared with Cooper--I have not located his definition of "vulgar"}
"Sir Walter Scott's definition of what is vulgar is open to criticism, I
fancy. The word comes from the common mind, or common practices,
beyond a question, but it now means what is common as opposed to
what is cultivated and refined. It is an absurdity, too, to make a thing
respectable because it is common. A fib is one of the commonest things
in the world, and yet it is scarcely respectable."
"Oh! Every one says you are a philosopherESS, Mary, and I ought to
have expected some such answer. But a handkerchief I am determined
to have, and it shall be the very handsomest I can find."
"And the DEAREST? Well, you will have a very lady-like wardrobe
with one pocket-handkerchief in it! I wonder you do not purchase a
single shoe."
"Because I have TWO feet," replied Julia with spirit, though she laughed
good-naturedly--"but here is the clerk, and he must not hear our
quarrels. Have the goodness, sir, to show me the handsomest pocket-
handkerchief in your shop."
I was drawn from beneath the pile and laid before the bright black eyes
of Julia, with an air of solemn dignity, by the young dealer in finery.
"That, ma'am," he said, "is the very finest and most elegant article not
only that WE have, but which is to be found in America. It was brought
out by 'our Mr. Silky,' the last voyage; HE said PARIS cannot produce
its equal."
"This IS beautiful, sir, one must admit! What is the price?"
"Why, ma'am, we OUGHT in justice to ourselves to have $120 for that
article; but, to our regular customers I believe Mr. Bobbinet has
determined to ask ONLY $100."
This sounded exceedingly liberal--to ask ONLY $100 for that for
which there was a sort of moral obligation to ask $120!--and Julia
having come out with the intent to throw away a hundred-dollar note
that her mother had given her that morning, the bargain was concluded.
I was wrapped up carefully in paper, put into Miss Monson's muff, and
once more took my departure from the empire of Col. Silky. I no longer
occupied a false position.
"Now, I hope you are happy, Julia," quietly observed Mary Warren, as
the two girls took their seats side by side in Mrs. Monson's chariot.
"The surprise to me is, that you forgot to purchase this ne plus ultra of
elegance while in Paris last summer."
{chariot = a light, four-wheeled carriage with only back seats; ne plus
ultra = peak, ultimate}
"My father said he could not afford it; we spent a great deal of money,
as you may suppose, in running about, seeing sights, and laying in
curiosities, and when I hinted the matter to my mother, she said we must
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wait until another half year's rents had come round. After all, Mary,
there is ONE person at home to whom I shall be ashamed to show this
purchase."
"At home!--is there, indeed? Had you merely said 'in town' I could have
understood you. Your father and mother approving of what you have
done, I do not see who there is AT HOME to alarm you."
Julia blushed when her friend said "in town," and her conscious feelings
immediately conjured up the image of a certain Betts Shoreham, as the
person in her companion's mind's eye. I detected it all easily enough,
being actually within six inches of her throbbing heart at that very
moment, though concealed in the muff.
"It is not what you suppose, Mary, nor WHOM you suppose,"
answered my mistress; "I mean Mademoiselle Hennequin--I confess I
DO dread the glance of her reproving eye."
"It is odd enough that you should dread reproval from the governess of
your sisters when you do not dread it from your own mother! But
Mademoiselle Hennequin has nothing to do with you. You were
educated and out before she entered your family, and it is singular that a
person not older than yourself, who was engaged in Paris so recently,
should have obtained so much influence over the mind of one who never
was her pupil."
"I am not afraid of her in most things," rejoined Julia, "but I confess I am
in all that relates to taste; particularly in what relates to extravagance."
"I have greatly misunderstood the character of Mademoiselle Hennequin
if she ventured to interfere with you in either! A governess ought not to
push her control beyond her proper duties."
"Nor has Mademoiselle Hennequin," answered Julia honestly. "Still I
cannot but hear the lessons she gives my sisters, and--yes--to own the
truth, I dread the glance she cannot avoid throwing on my purchase. It
will say, 'of what use are all my excellent lessons in taste and prudence,
if an elder sister's example is to counteract them?' It is THAT I dread."
Mary was silent for fully a minute; then she smiled archly, as girls will
smile when certain thoughts cross their playful imaginations, and
continued the discourse.
"And Betts Shoreham has nothing to do with all this dread?"
"What is Betts Shoreham to me, or what am I to Betts Shoreham? I am
sure the circumstances that we happened to come from Europe in the
same packet, and that he continues to visit us now we are at home, do [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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