gate, followed by Lydia, who turned to close it behind her. As she
pushed, Cashel, standing outside, grasped a bar and pulled. She at
once relinquished to him the labor of shutting the gate, and smiled
her thanks as she turned away; but in that moment he plucked up
courage to look at her. The sensation of being so looked at was
quite novel to her and very curious. She was even a little out of
countenance, but not so much so as Cashel, who nevertheless could
not take his eyes away.

"Do you think," said Alice, as they crossed the orchard, "that that
man is a gentleman?"

"How can I possibly tell? We hardly know him."

"But what do you think? There is always a certain something about a
gentleman that one recognizes by instinct."

"Is there? I have never observed it."

"Have you not?" said Alice, surprised, and beginning uneasily to
fear that her superior perception of gentility was in some way the
effect of her social inferiority to Miss Carew. "I thought one could
always tell."

"Perhaps so," said Lydia. "For my own part I have found the same
varieties of address in every class. Some people enjoy a native
distinction and grace of manner--"

"That is what I mean," said Alice.