Chapter 13 - Page 2

"No one doubts it, Grace; but what do you wish me to understand by
this? Are we to insist on preceding Sir George, in going through a
door?"

Grace blushed to the eyes, and yet she laughed, involuntarily.

"What nonsense! No one thinks of such things in America."

"Except at Washington, where, I am told, 'Senators' ladies' do give
themselves airs. But you are quite right, Grace; women have no rank
in America, beyond their general social rank, as ladies or no ladies,
and we will not be the first to set an example of breaking the rule.
I am afraid our blood will pass for nothing, and that we must give
place to the baronet, unless, indeed, he recognizes the rights of the
sex."

"You know I mean nothing so silly. Sir George Templemore does not
seem to think of rank at all; even Mr. Powis treats him, in all
respects, as an equal, and Sir George seems to admit it to be right."

Eve's maid, at the moment, was twisting her hair, with the intention
to put it up; but the sudden manner in which her young mistress
turned to look at Grace, caused Annette to relinquish her grasp, and
the shoulders of the beautiful and blooming girl were instantly
covered with the luxuriant tresses.

"And why should _not_ Mr. Powis treat Sir George Templemore as one
every way his equal, Grace?" she asked, with an impetuosity unusual
in one so trained in the forms of the world.

"Why, Eve, one is a baronet, and the other is but a simple
gentleman."

Eve Effingham sat silent for quite a minute. Her little foot moved,
and she had been carefully taught, too, that a lady-like manner,
required that even this beautiful portion of the female frame should
be quiet and unobtrusive. But America did not contain two of the same
sex, years, and social condition, less alike in their opinions, or it
might be said their prejudices, than the two cousins. Grace Van
Cortlandt, of the best blood of her native land, had unconsciouslv
imbibed in childhood, the notions connected with hereditary rank,
through the traditions of colonial manners, by means of novels, by
hearing the vulgar reproached or condemned for their obtrusion and
ignorance, and too often justly reproached and condemned, and by the
aid of her imagination, which contributed to throw a gloss and
brilliancy over a state of things that singularly gains by distance.
On the other hand, with Eve, every thing connected with such subjects
was a matter of fact. She had been thrown early into the highest
associations of Europe; she had not only seen royalty on its days of
gala and representation, a mere raree-show that is addressed to the
senses, or purely an observance of forms that may possibly