“I do not, Henry,” was the frank reply.

“Why not?”

“There is something too common about her, if I may so express myself.”

“Too common!  What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that there is no distinctive character about her.  She is, like the large mass around us, a mere made-up girl.”

“Speaking in riddles.”

“I mean then, Henry, that her character has been formed, or made up, by mere external accretions from the common-place, vague, and often too false notions of things that prevail in society, instead of by the force of sound internal principles, seen to be true from a rational intuition, and acted upon because they are true.  Cannot you perceive the difference?”

“O yes, plainly.  And this is why you use the word ‘common,’ in speaking of her?”

“The reason.  And now my son, can you not see that there is force in my objection to her—­that she really possess any character distinctively her own, that is founded upon a clear and rational appreciation of abstractly correct principles of action?”

“I cannot say that I differ from you very widely,” the young man said, thoughtfully.  “But, if you call Melinda ‘common,’ where shall I go to find one who may be called ‘uncommon?’”

“I can point you to one.”

“Say on.”

“You have met Fanny Clayton?”

“Fanny Clayton!” ejaculated the young man, taken by surprise, the blood rising to his face.  “O yes, I have met her.”

“She is no common girl, Henry,” Mrs. Florence said, in a serious voice.  “She has not her equal in my circle of acquaintances.”

“Nor in mine either,” replied the young man, recovering himself.  “But you would not feel satisfied to have your son address Miss Clayton?”

“And why not, pray?  Henry, I have never met with a young lady whom I would rather see your wife than Fanny Clayton.”

“And I,” rejoined the young man with equal warmth, “never met with any one whom I could truly love until I saw her sweet young face.”

“Then never think again of one like Melinda Marygold.  You could not be rationally happy with her.”

Five or six months rolled away, during a large portion of which time the fact that Henry Florence was addressing Fanny Clayton formed a theme for pretty free comment in various quarters.  Most of Henry’s acquaintance heartily approved his choice; but Mrs. Marygold, and a few like her, all with daughters of the “common” class, were deeply incensed at the idea of a “common kind of a girl” like Miss Clayton being forced into genteel society, a consequence that would of course follow her marriage.  Mrs. Marygold hesitated not to declare that for her part, let others do as they liked, she was not going to associate with her—­that was settled.  She had too much regard to what was due to her station in life.  As for Melinda, she had no very kind feelings for her successful rival—­and such a rival too!  A mere schoolmaster’s daughter!  And she hesitated not to speak of her often and in no very courteous terms.