CHAPTER XVII.
JULIA.
Of all the accomplishments by which we are charmed, true politeness is the brightest and the most admirable; seeing that while it imparts pleasure to all who come within the scope of its influence, it prompts the development of that essential goodness of heart which repudiates the idea of giving offence. It has nothing to do with formality: neither bowing nor smiling, nor the practice of any prescribed ceremonial, can prove the existence of true politeness: nor does it consist in a servile assent to every opinion that may be advanced-for that is the fruit either of folly or of subtlety springing from a mean or an immoral design: its essence is that generosity which leads us to study—not to wound, but to respect—the feelings of those around us, with a view to promote their comfort by all the means at our command; and this generosity—this germ of true politeness—conspicuously characterised Dr. Delolme. In him there was a total absence of everything bearing even the semblance of assumption. He made no display of superiority, no attempt at dictation: he would not willingly wound the feelings of any man alive: nor would he, except indeed in cases of approaching death, fail to conceal, if possible, any circumstance calculated in his judgment to create annoyance or alarm: his motive will therefore be well understood, when it is stated that, having learned that Aunt Eleanor had slept so soundly that she heard nothing of the disturbance of the preceding night, he submitted to Mrs. Delolme the propriety, under the circumstances, of keeping the whole affair a secret.
That lady, however, held that nothing ought to be concealed: that concealment was a species of deception; and that if anything occurred, and we acted or spoke as if it had not occurred, we were guilty of hypocrisy: it therefore took some considerable time, and required many powerful arguments to convince her that she was not strictly justified in unnecessarily creating alarm in the minds of her guests.
While, however, the process of conviction was going on, Tom, who could not sleep after six o'clock that morning, dressed himself, and on going into Sylvester's room, explained to him all that had occurred.
"Dow," said he, having gone completely through the scene, to the utter amazement of Sylvester, "what do you thidk of that?".
"It's very mysterious!" said Sylvester; "very mysterious!"
"Bysterious! But do you believe it?" cried Tom. "Cad ady bad codceive the possibility of a fellow beidg able to rud alodg a stode so darrow at such a height as that? Slip od your thidgs add cobe add look at it."
