t may be, beyond what might, perhaps, have been looked for from
one whose unwonted self-respect in the hour of need, and in the act of
being aided, might have appeared to some not wholly unlike pride out of
place; and pride, in any place, is seldom very feeling. But the truth,
perhaps, is, that those who are least touched with that vice, besides
being not unsusceptible to goodness, are sometimes the ones whom a
ruling sense of propriety makes appear cold, if not thankless, under a
favor. For, at such a time, to be full of warm, earnest words, and
heart-felt protestations, is to create a scene; and well-bred people
dislike few things more than that; which would seem to look as if the
world did not relish earnestness; but, not so; because the world, being
earnest itself, likes an earnest scene, and an earnest man, very well,
but only in their place--the stage. See what sad work they make of it,
who, ignorant of this, flame out in Irish enthusiasm and with Irish
sincerity, to a benefactor, who, if a man of sense and respectability,
as well as kindliness, can but be more or less annoyed by it; and, if of
a nervously fastidious nature, as some are, may be led to think almost
as much less favorably of the beneficiary paining him by his gratitude,
as if he had been guilty of its contrary, instead only of an
indiscretion. But, beneficiaries who know better, though they may feel
as much, if not more, neither inflict such pain, nor are inclined to run
any risk of so doing. And these, being wise, are the majority. By which
one sees how inconsiderate those persons are, who, from the absence of
its officious manifestations in the world, complain that there is not
much gratitude extant; when the truth is, that there is as much of it as
there is of modesty; but, both being for the most part votarists of the
shade, for the most part keep out of sight.

What started this was, to account, if necessary, for the changed air of
the man with the weed, who, throwing off in private the cold garb of
decorum, and so giving warmly loose to his genuine heart, seemed almost
transformed into another being. This subdued air of softness, too, was
toned with melancholy, melancholy unreserved; a thing which, however at
variance with propriety, still the more attested his earnestness; for
one knows not how it is, but it sometimes happens that, where
earnestness is, there, also, is melancholy.

At the time, he was leaning over the rail at the boat's side,