Sweethearts and Wives CHAPTER 2.
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Soon after Milnor's introduction to Grace Harvey, he became a regular visitor at the house of her aunt, and by no means an unacceptable one. Mrs. Ellis was especially pleased with him, at least for a time — he was so frank, so kind, so courteous and gentlemanly in his whole deportment; he was likewise so amiable in his disposition — not thinking it worth while to be always making points of difference, and thus causing argument and arousing opposition.
Besides Milnor, there was another regular visitor, a young man named Armstrong, before alluded to. This Armstrong possessed stronger points of character than Milnor. He was more thoroughly independent and truth-loving. Anything which he held to be true, especially if it affected the actions directly — he declared freely, no matter how much it opposed another's opinions, even if that other one were his nearest and dearest friend; and, indeed, the more he esteemed or loved a friend — the more perseveringly would he oppose his errors. While Milnor was looked upon as a pleasant companion — Armstrong was too often considered harsh and opinionated. Armstrong had not so many friends as Milnor, but the few that he had, were like himself — lovers of truth for its own sake, and deeply attached to him, because he loved the truth too purely ever to betray it.
The vigor and independence of Grace Harvey's mind first won his admiration, and he became a visitor, not from any affection for her moral qualities, for of them he could not form any immediate judgment — but from the intellectual delight he experienced in her society. Gradually, however, this admiration warmed into a deeper sentiment. The forms of thought which came forth from her mind, no longer charmed by their external beauty alone; in each sentiment that was uttered, he soon learned to perceive the presence of a genuine affection; truth was not only seen, but it was loved. She had faults of character, and these were perceived by him as quickly as were their opposites; but, when seen, he did not close his eyes to them, nor coolly resolve not to touch them with the hand of correction, lest their subject should be offended. He knew too well that errors of opinionwere the false forms into which corresponding evils would flow; that selfish affections would soon make to themselves thoughts — and thoughts produce actions, and that these actions would be evil, and that their effects upon herself and those she loved, would be painful. All this he saw too clearly to permit him to hesitate a moment in regard to his duty, when anything not true and good became apparent either in word or act.
The manliness of Armstrong's character, united with his highly-informed mind and broad and true principles, soon won upon Grace, and began early to inspire her with a sentiment of affection. Still, she rarely spent an hour in his company that did not leave her with a feeling of dissatisfaction. Why this was so, she could not for some time make out. But the truth gradually dawned upon her mind. She saw that it arose from the fact that Armstrong, so far from deeming her perfect — did not hesitate often to correct her opinions, and sometimes to condemn an action. This wounded her pride, and offended her self-love. Something of indignation was consequently aroused, in which state she sought for faults of character in him — instead of endeavoring to correct those in herself which he had brought to light.
Milnor, who was likewise a regular visitor at her aunt's, saw all this clearly, and did not fail to take advantage of it.
"I have faults enough of my own to look after. Let him enjoy the thankless and unprofitable office of pointing out other people's faults," he inwardly remarked, with a feeling of self-satisfaction, as he saw the effect of Armstrong's course upon the mind of Grace. He did not fail to perceive that, whenever she conversed with his rival — she was on her guard, and apparently under restraint; but while alone with him — she was as frank, and free, and happy as a child. He never opposed her in anything. If he differed from her in opinion, he either said nothing, or assumed that she might, after all, be correct. In regard to her actions, he left her free. In fact, he never opposed her in anything, but let her pleasure in all things become his. The effect of all this will be seen.
"You don't seem happy, dear," said Mrs. Ellis to Grace, one evening, after she had been riding out with Armstrong. "What is the matter?"
"I never feel happy after I have been with Mr. Armstrong," was the half-petulant reply.
"Never feel happy after being with Mr. Armstrong! That is strange, my love! Why does he make you unhappy?"
Instead of letting Grace answer for herself, we will go back a little, and make the reader acquainted with the exact nature of the interview which had disturbed the usually quiet surface of the maiden's feelings. During the afternoon's ride to which reference has just been made, various subjects of conversation were introduced — nearly all of which led to the expression of sentiments on both sides, and some to the collision of opinions. It so happened, among other things, that Grace, in speaking of a certain action, remarked that it was right enough in itself, but that she usually refrained from doing it under certain circumstances, out of respect for the prejudices of people who were present.
"But is that a right motive?" asked Armstrong.
"Certainly," was the quick reply of Grace. "Can there be a higher motive than such a generous regard to the honest prejudices of conscientious people?"
"Yes, a much higher motive."
"What is that, please?"
"The consciousness that an action is wrong."
"But the action I speak of was right in itself; and I practiced self-denial for the sake of not disturbing the feelings of another."
"Thus leading another to form a false estimate of your character. Was that right? Was that honest?"
"I cannot see how a lack of honesty can be predicated of such an action. I had no wish to deceive — only not to offend."
"I will make it clear to you. Suppose this individual, whose honest prejudices you were so careful not to wound, had under her care a young friend, whom she was exceedingly anxious to protect from the influence of just such pleasures as you deemed innocent, but which you refrained from entering into on account of her prejudices; would there not be danger of her forming a false estimate of your character, and, therefore, of exposing her charge to an influence which she was exceedingly anxious to guard against? Thus you see, that this is a practical principle, and that it was really not honest for you to appear in an assumed character."
"I can't say that I feel the force of your argument on the score of honesty," Grace replied, with some warmth. "You will not pretend to say that dancing, to which we have been alluding, is in itself wrong?"
"Of course not. Dancing has its uses, as have all other innocent amusements."
"And would be as useful to Mrs. Putnam's young friend, assuming that she had one, or to her daughter, a more positive case, as it is to me."
"I am not exactly prepared to agree with you there, as the pleasure to her would be a forbidden one. Still, that point may readily be assumed."
"Well, assuming the point, which I believe to be a true one, would it not be perfectly right in me to endeavor to make Mary Putnam sensible of the benefits of dancing, an opportunity to do which I might never have, if I danced before her puritanical mother?"
"I will answer your question by asking you one or two in return. Imagine yourself a mother, with two or three children verging on the period of rationality. You have been educated in a firm belief of the doctrines taught in the Protestant Episcopal Church."
"Yes."
"And, under the circumstances I have supposed — would be anxious to have your children educated in a like faith?"
"Certainly."
"Why would you be thus anxious?"
"Because I feel well assured that the doctrines taught in our Church are true. Believing this, I would be recreant to the trust reposed in me, did I not teach my children the same."
"And you would be as anxious to guard your children from the persuasions of other sects, as to teach them your own doctrines?"
"Certainly."
"In order to do this, you would, no doubt, be mindful in regard to their associates, taking care that they had as little fellowship as possible with people of the other sects who would be likely to influence them in regard to doctrine?"
"Of course."
"Now suppose, in your social fellowship, you fell in with an interesting stranger — one who was intelligent in conversation and excellent in disposition — just such a one, in fact, as you would like to be the companion of your children. And suppose that the subject of religious differences came up, and she, knowing that you were strongly prejudiced against the peculiar tenets that she held, in order that she might the more certainly have power to insinuate her doctrines into the minds of your children, were to conceal her views, and lead you to believe that she agreed with you, and thus led you to put your children in her way, when she poisoned their minds against the Episcopal Church, and induced them to believe opposite doctrines from those you held. Would this, let me ask you, be right? would it be honest?"
"But mere dancing, Mr. Armstrong, is a very different matter from religious doctrines."
"Mrs. Putnam considers it sinful to dance, does she not?"
"Yes, I believe she does."
"Then is not a religious principle involved in her prejudice against dancing? And is she not as much bound to guard her children against it as against any evil?"
"Under that view, I suppose she is."
"You can then see, I have no doubt, that it would be wrong for you to make the smallest effort towards dissipating Mary Putnam's prejudice against dancing?"
"Upon that principle, then, it is wrong to make any effort towards teaching truths to those whom we know, or believe to be in false doctrines?"
"Oh no. There is a very wide difference between those who have arrived at the age of rationality, and thence are accountable for their actions — and those who are still in their minority. The latter, not being able to judge for themselves, are under guardianship and instruction. It is the duty of their guardians and instructors to teach them those things which they believe to be good and true — and he who interferes with and opposes them in this work, is guilty of a serious wrong. But as soon as anyone has arrived at a rational age, when his own perceptions of truth must be his guide, then it is orderly and right for any person who thinks him in error, to present the truth, with reasons to convince his judgment. The two cases are widely different."
Grace remained silent after her companion had ceased speaking. He had clearly shown her an error — and this wounded her pride, and made her feel unhappy. He did not, however, perceive that this was her state. He was beginning really to love her, and the warmer the interest he felt in her — the more anxious was he to see her mind freed from all wrong opinions. And such was the respect he entertained for her judgment, that he believed it only necessary for him to present the truth — for it to be eagerly received. This being his state of mind, the silence which followed his last remark gave his thoughts an opportunity to revert to the original subject of conversation, and he was thence led to say,
"The true principle upon which to found our actions is the question of right. 'Is it right?' should be the only question. Not, 'How will it strike people?' 'Whose prejudices will it offend?' What will people say?' Had the great reformers, in all ages of the world, been swerved from their purposes by such questions — what would have been our condition now? Depend upon it, Miss Harvey, to be true to ourselves and the world — we must take this elevated position, and let this law of right determine all our conduct. If it is right todance — then will I dance in spite of the prejudices of all the world; and upon the same principle do any other clearly right action. Shall a right principle give place to a wrong prejudice? No! How is the world to get rid of error and prejudice — if truth and right do not oppose them? But I need not multiply words on this subject; I am sure you can see it clearly."
<p align="justify">And so Grace did see it — but her pride was touched, and she would not make the acknowledgment. She was not used to having young men oppose her in that dogmatic way, as she was pleased inwardly to term Armstrong's animated manner of argumentation. Heretofore, her companions of the other gender had treated her opinions as well as her person, with the greatest deference. She was listened to with pleased politeness, and every sentiment cordially approved. This was smooth and pleasant sailing. But now a man, towards whom her tenderest feelings were beginning to be awakened — a man whose strong, independent mind had won her admiration — was assuming an air of dictation andcontroversy towards her, which was felt to be insufferable. Something of indignation, mingled with her wounded self-love — and both combined to darken the flame that was just kindling upon her heart's pure altar.
The remainder of their ride was passed in commonplace observations, Grace purposely avoiding any expression of opinion. When they parted, she was, as has been said, much disturbed in mind.
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