Some people get their ballast slowly, some don't need much, and some
have to work hard for theirs."
"Did you?" asked Christie; for David's voice fell a little, as he
uttered the last words.
"I have not got much yet."
"I think you have. Why, David, you are always cheerful and
contented, good and generous. If that is not true piety, what is?"
"You are very much deceived, and I am sorry for it," said David,
with the impatient gesture of the head, and a troubled look.
"Prove it!" And Christie looked at him with such sincere respect and
regard, that his honest nature would not let him accept it, though
it gratified him much.
He made no answer for a minute. Then he said slowly, as if feeling a
modest man's hesitation to speak of himself, yet urged to it by some
irresistible impulse:
"I will prove it if you won't mind the unavoidable egotism; for I
cannot let you think me so much better than I am. Outwardly I seem
to you 'cheerful, contented, generous, and good.' In reality I am
sad, dissatisfied, bad, and selfish: see if I'm not. I often tire of
this quiet life, hate my work, and long to break away, and follow my
own wild and wilful impulses, no matter where they lead.
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