noble one? Who, then, denied her the chance? Had she _no_ power to order
her own steps, to determine her own being? Was she nailed to her rank? Or
who was there that could part her from it? Was she a prisoner in the
dungeons of the House of Pride? When the gates of Paradise closed behind
Adam and Eve, they had this consolation left, that "the world was all
before them where to choose." Was she not a free woman, without even a
guardian to trouble her with advice? She had no excuse to act ignobly, but
had she any for being unmaidenly? Would it then be--would it be a _very_
unmaidenly thing if--? The rest of the sentence did not even take the
shape of words. But she answered it nevertheless in the words, "Not so
unmaidenly as presumptuous." And, alas! there was little hope that _he_
would ever presume to--He was such a modest youth with all his directness
and fearlessness. If he had no respect for rank--and that was--yes, she
would say the word, _hopeful_--he had, on the other hand, the profoundest
respect for the human, and she could not tell how that might in the
individual matter operate.

Then she fell a-thinking of the difference between Malcolm and any other
servant she had ever known. She hated the _servile_. She knew that it was
false as well as low: she had not got so far as to see that it was low
through its being false. She knew that most servants, while they spoke
with the appearance of respect in presence, altered their tone entirely
when beyond the circle of the eye: theirs was eye-service, they were
men-pleasers, they were servile. She had overheard her maid speak of her
as Lady Clem, and that not without a streak of contempt in the tone. But
here was a man who touched no imaginary hat while he stood in the presence
of his mistress, neither swore at her in the stable-yard. He looked her
straight in the face, and would upon occasion speak, not his _mind_, but
the truth to her. Even his slight mistress had the conviction that if one
dared in his presence but utter her name lightly, whoever he were, he
would have to answer to him for it. What a lovely thing was true
service!--absolutely divine! But, alas! such a youth would never, could
never, dare offer other than such service. Were she even to encourage him
as a maiden might, he would but serve her the better--would but embody his
recognition of her favor in fervor of ministering devotion. Was it not a
recognized law, however, in the relation of superiors and