There comes a time towards the close of a long troublesome life in which
a man begins to feel like a ghost. His friends are gone, and his money is
gone, his health is gone, his good looks are gone; and the only mistake
seems to be that the man himself should be left behind. I remember an
observation of Lord Chesterfield's: 'Lord ---- and I have been dead for
the last two years, but we don't tell anyone so,' he said; and there are
few old men who couldn't say the same. But I am not down-hearted to-day,
my dear. No, the habit of hoping has never quite deserted me; and it is
only now and then that I take a dismal view of life. Come, my love, lay
aside your bonnet and things. Dear me! what a handsome black silk dress,
and how well you look in it!"
"It is a present from Charlotte, papa. She has a very liberal allowance
of pocket-money, and is generosity itself. I don't like to take so much
from her, but I only wound her by a refusal."
"Of course, my dear. There is nothing so ungracious as a refusal, and no
mark of high breeding so rare as the art of gracious acceptance. Any
booby can give a present; but to receive a gift without churlish
reticence or florid rapture is no easy accomplishment. I am always
pleased to see you well-dressed, my love"--Diana winced as she remembered
her shabby hat and threadbare gown at Foretdechene--"and I am especially
pleased to see you elegantly attired this evening, as I expect a
gentleman by-and-by.
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