“I would; but there is nothing of that kind to be. We are to be, he and I, good friends; but Heaven has designed him for you and you for him. I feel sure of it.”
“Do you forget that you are talking to the legal wife of Dr. Delano?” asked Clara, with a very confident voice at the beginning, but with something very like a sigh at the end.
“Oh, well; Fate can tear down a shanty when it has a palace to build.”
The count left in the same train with Miss Charlotte and Clara, and during the journey an incident occurred which should be mentioned, because it shows something more of Clara’s nature. On changing cars at the railroad junction, the two ladies took a seat, the count occupying the one in front of them, and another gentleman, the one behind. This gentleman was just putting away a time-table, which Clara politely asked to see. The gentleman thereupon made some remark, which Clara answered, and they continued talking for some minutes. Miss Charlotte was a little shocked at such unconventionality. To her mind, it proved very conclusively that Clara had no intention of making a soft impression upon the count, else she would be more careful of her actions. The count kept on reading his paper, not seeming to notice anything—not even the fact that the stranger gave Clara his card just before he left the train, whereupon she promptly returned him hers. Miss Charlotte could not forbear remarking upon the strange proceeding.
“Why should we treat strangers with suspicion and reserve?” asked Clara. “It is my ambition to be treated by strangers exactly as one gentleman treats another; this is Susie’s idea, also, and Miss Marston’s. Gallantry is a wretched substitute for that respect that comes from the sense of equality.”
“You are right, madam,” said the count, with great earnestness, as he folded his paper. “Every such act as this on the part of women, teaches men a lesson—one they are slow to learn—that women are not necessarily and by nature simply pretty, dependent dolls, to be flattered and caressed——”
“And despised,” said Clara. “I have noticed always and without exception, that the men who bow the lowest before us, pick up our fans, when dropped, with the greatest alacrity, and make the most adulatory speeches, are just those who respect us least. I can give you a good illustration, Miss Charlotte,” continued Clara: “the last time I was in Boston, as I was passing up Court Street, a poor old apple-woman had her stand upset. There were many men passing, and I noticed that every one of the elegant low-bowers, or fan-servants, passed on without the slightest show of sympathy. One, only, a very young fellow, rather poorly dressed, I found helping me set up the poor old woman’s stand and pick up the scattered fruit.”
“Did you give him your card?” asked Miss Charlotte, smiling.
“I did; and allowed him to walk on beside me while I gave him my notions of a true gentleman; and more, he has written to me twice. His name is Edward Page. I will show you his pretty, enthusiastic letters; and still more, Miss Charlotte, when I found he was a poor boy, struggling against fate alone in Boston, I offered him, with Susie’s consent, of course, constant employment with Dykes & Delano, and he is coming next week to take the place.”
“Bravo!” exclaimed the count. “I must beg your pardon, Mrs. Delano, for believing, heretofore, that Madam Susie had more business capacity than her partner. You will always choose your assistants wisely. You will make them devoted to you, and secure faithful work. This is the great secret of success as a leader of industry.”