CHAPTER X.
SMOOTHING THE WAY.
It has been often enough remarked that women have a curious power of divining the characters of men, which would seem to be innate and instinctive; seeing that it is arrived at through no patient process of reasoning, that it can give no satisfactory or sufficient account of itself, and that it pronounces in the most confident manner even against accumulated observation on the part of the other sex. But it has not been quite so often remarked that this power (fallible, like every other human attribute), is for the most part absolutely incapable of self-revision; and that when it has delivered an adverse opinion which by all human lights is subsequently proved to have failed, it is undistinguishable from prejudice, in respect of its determination not to be corrected. Nay, the very possibility of contradiction or disproof, however remote, communicates to this feminine judgment from the first, in nine cases out of ten, the weakness attendant on the testimony of an interested witness: so personally and strongly does the fair diviner connect herself with her divination.
"Now, don't you think, Ma dear," said the Minor Canon to his mother one day as she sat at her knitting in his little book-room, "that you are rather hard on Mr. Neville?"
"No, I do not, Sept," returned the old lady.
"Let us discuss it, Ma."
"I have no objection to discuss it, Sept. I trust, my dear, I am always open to discussion." There was a vibration in the old lady's cap, as though she internally added: "and I should like to see the discussion that would change my mind!"
"Very good, Ma," said her conciliatory son. "There is nothing like being open to discussion."
"I hope not, my dear," returned the old lady, evidently shut to it.
"Well! Mr. Neville, on that unfortunate occasion, commits himself under provocation."
"And under mulled wine," added the old lady.
"I must admit the wine. Though I believe the two young men were much alike in that regard."
"I don't!" said the old lady.
"Why not, Ma?"
"Because I don't," said the old lady. "Still, I am quite open to discussion."
"But, my dear Ma, I cannot see how we are to discuss, if you take that line."
"Blame Mr. Neville for it, Sept, and not me," said the old lady, with stately severity.
"My dear Ma! Why Mr. Neville?"
"Because," said Mrs. Crisparkle, retiring on first principles, "he came home intoxicated, and did great discredit to this house, and showed great disrespect to this family."
