But there was another reflection, more potent yet, that urged Barbara to speak. Since learning Alice's secret, she had found herself more swiftly drawn toward Richard, nor could she escape the thought that he might one day ask her to be his wife: it would be painful then to know that she had made progress in his regard by being imagined his superior, when she knew she was not! Incapable of laying a snare, was she not submitting to the advantage of an ignorance? The misconception she was thus risking in the future, had already often prevented her from going to Mortgrange. Richard, she was certain, knew her better than ever to misjudge her, but she shrank from the suspicion of any one that she had hidden what she knew for the sake of securing Richard's preference before their relations were altered--when, on a level with the choice of society, he might well think differently of her. Barbara was one of those to whom concealment is a positive pain. She had a natural hatred, most healthy and Christian, to all secrets as such; and to take any advantage of one would have seemed to her a loathsome thing. She constantly wanted to say all that was in her, and when she must not, she suffered. “He may have good blood in him on one side,” suggested lady Ann. “He was rude to me, but I dare say it was the child's fault. He seems intelligent!” “He is more than intelligent. I suspect him of being a genius.” “I should have thought him a tradesman all over!” “But wouldn't genius by and by make a gentleman of him?” “Not in the least. It might make him grow to look like one.” “Isn't that the same? Isn't it all in the look?” “By no means. A man must _be_ a gentleman or he is nothing! A gentleman would rather not have been born than not be a gentleman!” said lady Ann. She spoke to an ignorant person from the colonies, where they could not be supposed to understand such things, and never suspected the danger she and her false importance were in with the little colonial girl. “But if his parents were gentlefolk?” suggested Barbara. “Birth predetermines style, both in body and mind, I grant,” said lady Ann; “education and society must do their parts to make any man a gentleman; and where all has been done, I must confess to having seen remarkable failures. Bad blood must of course have got in somehow.” “I wish I knew what makes a gentleman!” sighed Barbara. “I have all my life been trying to understand the thing.--Tell me, lady Ann--to be a gentleman, must a man be a good man?” “I am sorry to say,” she answered, “it is not in the least necessary.” “Then a gentleman may do bad things, and be a gentleman still?” “Yes--that is, _some_ bad things.” “Do you mean--not _many_ bad things?” “No; I mean certain kinds of bad things.” “Such as cheating at cards?” “No. If he were found doing that, he would be expelled from any club in London.” “May he tell lies, then?” “Certainly not! It is a very ungentlemanly thing to tell lies.”