"And pray, is there no tittle-tattle, no scandal, no commenting on one's neighbours, in other civilized nations besides this?"
"Unquestionably; though I believe, as a rule, it is every where thought to be inherently vulgar, and a proof of low associations."
"In that, we are perfectly of a mind; for, if there be any thing that betrays a consciousness of inferiority, it is our rendering others of so much obvious importance to ourselves, as to make them the subjects of our constant conversation. We may speak of virtues, for therein we pay an homage to that which is good; but when we come to dwell on personal faults, it is rather a proof that we have a silent conviction of the superiority of the subject of our comments to ourselves, either in character, talents, social position, or something else that is deemed essential, than of our distaste for his failings. Who, for instance, talks scandal of his grocer, or of his shoemaker? No, no, our pride forbids this; we always make our betters the subject of our strictures by preference, taking up with our equals only when we can get none of a higher class."
"This quite reconciles me to having been given to Sir George Templemore, by the world of New-York," said Eve, smiling.
"And well it may, for they who have prattled of your engagement, have done so principally because they are incapable of maintaining a conversation on any thing else. But, all this time, I fear I stand accused in your mind, of having given advice unasked, and of feeling an alarm in an affair that affected others, instead of myself, which is the very sin that we lay at the door of our worthy Manhattanese. In common with all around me, then, I fancied Sir George Templemore an accepted lover, and, by habit, had gotten to associate you together in my pictures. Oh my arrival here, however, I will confess that Mr. Powis, whom, you will remember, I had never seen before, struck me as much the most dangerous man.--Shall I own all my absurdity?"
"Even to the smallest shade."
"Well, then, I confess to having supposed that, while the excellent father believed you were in a fair way to become Lady Templemore, the equally excellent daughter thought the other suitor, infinitely the most agreeable person."
"What! in contempt of a betrothal?"
"Of course I, at once, ascribed that part of the report to the usual embellishments. We do not like to be deceived in our calculations, or to discover that even our gossip has misled us. In pure resentment at my own previous delusion, I began to criticise this Mr. Powis--"
"Criticise, Mrs. Bloomfield!"