“Are you sure?” Uncle John’s voice fell to a lower tone, and had in it a quiver of feeling.
“I am sure,” said Mrs. Dainty, with confidence.
Uncle John let his eyes sink to the floor. It was plain that there was something held back in his thoughts.
“I wish,” he said at length, almost sadly, “that I could help you to see below the surface of things,—that you were able to tell gold from tinsel, worth from its counterfeit. All true value lies in quality. You know the quality of Florence Harper. Honor the good, then. Be independent in your sphere of life. Set the noble example of being just. You can afford to do so. Let it be seen as a new thing, and worthy of emulation, that in choosing a companion and instructor for your children you take one worthy to sit by your side and share your favor and confidence. You cannot see into the mind of an inferior and a dependant as you can into the mind of one who is regarded as an equal.”
But Uncle John could not lift the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Dainty up into the clear-seeing region that his own occupied.
“It is all in vain to press that view,” said his niece. “There are certain social distinctions that must be maintained. As to Miss Harper, if her presence as a governess in our family is to be at the cost of your constant interference in the matter of position, I shall be driven to the necessity of dismissing her from my service.”
The little head of Mrs. Dainty balanced itself firmly, and she looked dignified and composed. But she was not prepared for the change that instantly appeared in Uncle John’s manner. He stood up very erect, with a firm, decided manner, and said, like a man in earnest,—
“You will not, I presume, reverse your present decision?”
“I will not,” replied the lady.
“Then Florence cannot remain.” Mr. Fleetwood spoke as by authority.