may almost be called a natural gift; and these, however he inherited
them, soon proved to be an inherent possession of little Ned. He had a
kind of natural refinement, which nothing could ever soil or offend; it
seemed, by some magic or other, absolutely to keep him from the
knowledge of much of the grim Doctor's rude and sordid exterior, and to
render what was around him beautiful by a sort of affiliation, or
reflection from that quality in himself, glancing its white light upon
it. The Doctor himself was puzzled, and apparently both startled and
delighted at the perception of these characteristics. Sometimes he
would make a low, uncouth bow, after his fashion, to the little fellow,
saying, "Allow me to kiss your hand, my lord!" and little Ned, not
quite knowing what the grim Doctor meant, yet allowed the favor he
asked, with a grave and gracious condescension that seemed much to
delight the suitor. This refusal to recognize or to suspect that the
Doctor might be laughing at him was a sure token, at any rate, of the
lack of one vulgar characteristic in little Ned.

In order to afford little Ned every advantage to these natural gifts,
Doctor Grim nevertheless failed not to provide the best attainable
instructor for such positive points of a polite education as his own
fierce criticism, being destructive rather than generative, would not
suffice for. There was a Frenchman in the town--a M. Le Grand, secretly
calling himself a Count--who taught the little people, and, indeed,
some of their elders, the Parisian pronunciation of his own language;
and likewise dancing (in which he was more of an adept and more
successful than in the former branch) and fencing: in which, after
looking at a lesson or two, the grim Doctor was satisfied of his skill.
Under his instruction, with the stimulus of the Doctor's praise and
criticism, Ned soon grew to be the pride of the Frenchman's school, in
both the active departments; and the Doctor himself added a further