The Bostonians, Vol. II | Page 3

in a happy sigh, as if there were more to say on the
subject than she could attempt on such short notice.
"I suppose it's very attractive," said Ransom encouragingly.
"It's just a dream!"
"And did you find that they were in advance?"
"Well, Miss Chancellor thought they were. She was surprised at some
things we observed, and concluded that perhaps she hadn't done the
Europeans justice--she has got such an open mind, it's as wide as the
sea!--while I incline to the opinion that on the whole we make the
better show. The state of the movement there reflects their general
culture, and their general culture is higher than ours (I mean taking the
term in its broadest sense). On the other hand, the special
condition--moral, social, personal--of our sex seems to me to be
superior in this country; I mean regarded in relation--in proportion as it
were--to the social phase at large. I must add that we did see some
noble specimens over there. In England we met some lovely women,
highly cultivated, and of immense organising power. In France we saw
some wonderful, contagious types; we passed a delightful evening with
the celebrated Marie Verneuil; she was released from prison, you know,
only a few weeks before. Our total impression was that it is only a
question of time--the future is ours. But everywhere we heard one
cry--'How long, O Lord, how long?'"

Basil Ransom listened to this considerable statement with a feeling
which, as the current of Miss Tarrant's facile utterance flowed on, took
the form of an hilarity charmed into stillness by the fear of losing
something. There was indeed a sweet comicality in seeing this pretty
girl sit there and, in answer to a casual, civil inquiry, drop into oratory
as a natural thing. Had she forgotten where she was, and did she take
him for a full house? She had the same turns and cadences, almost the
same gestures, as if she had been on the platform; and the great
queerness of it was that, with such a manner, she should escape being
odious. She was not odious, she was delightful; she was not dogmatic,
she was genial. No wonder she was a success, if she speechified as a
bird sings! Ransom could see, too, from her easy lapse, how the
lecture-tone was the thing in the world with which, by education, by
association, she was most familiar. He didn't know what to make of her;
she was an astounding young phenomenon. The other time came back
to him afresh, and how she had stood up at Miss Birdseye's; it occurred
to him that an element, here, had been wanting. Several moments after
she had ceased speaking he became conscious that the expression of his
face presented a perceptible analogy to a broad grin. He changed his
posture, saying the first thing that came into his head. "I presume you
do without your father now."
"Without my father?"
"To set you going, as he did that time I heard you."
"Oh, I see; you thought I had begun a lecture!" And she laughed, in
perfect good humour. "They tell me I speak as I talk, so I suppose I talk
as I speak. But you mustn't put me on what I saw and heard in Europe.
That's to be the title of an address I am now preparing, by the way. Yes,
I don't depend on father any more," she went on, while Ransom's sense
of having said too sarcastic a thing was deepened by her perfect
indifference to it. "He finds his patients draw off about enough, any
way. But I owe him everything; if it hadn't been for him, no one would
ever have known I had a gift--not even myself. He started me so, once
for all, that I now go alone."
"You go beautifully," said Ransom, wanting to say something

agreeable, and even respectfully tender, to her, but troubled by the fact
that there was nothing he could say that didn't sound rather like chaff.
There was no resentment in her, however, for in a moment she said to
him, as quickly as it occurred to her, in the manner of a person
repairing an accidental omission, "It was very good of you to come so
far."
This was a sort of speech it was never safe to make to Ransom; there
was no telling what retribution it might entail. "Do you suppose any
journey is too great, too wearisome, when it's a question of so great a
pleasure?" On this occasion it was not worse than that.
"Well, people have come from other cities," Verena answered, not with
pretended humility, but with pretended pride. "Do you know
Cambridge?"
"This is the first time I have ever been here."
"Well, I