compliment to my nerves--a gentleman is prepared for every event. Sir, it
is only a roturier whom death, or anything else, takes by surprise. How
many hours, then, can I live?"

"Not many, I fear, sir: perhaps until daybreak."

"My day breaks about twelve o'clock, p.m.," said Saville, as drily as his
gasps would let him. "Very well;--give me the cordial;--don't let me go
to sleep--I don't want to be cheated out of a minute. So, so--! I am
better. You may withdraw, doctor. Let my spaniel come up. Bustle,
Bustle!--poor fellow! poor fellow! Lie down, sir! be quiet! And now,
Godolphin, a few words in farewell. I always liked you greatly; you know
you were my protege, and you have turned out well. You have not been led
away by the vulgar passions of politics, and place, and power. You have
had power over power itself; you have not office, but you have fashion.
You have made the greatest match in England; very prudently not marrying
Constance Vernon, very prudently marrying Lady Erpingham. You are at the
head and front of society; you have excellent taste, and spend your wealth
properly. All this must make your conscience clear--a wonderful
consolation! Always keep a sound conscience; it is a great blessing on
one's death-bed--it is a great blessing tome in this hour, for I have
played my part decently--eh?--I have enjoyed life, as much as so dull a
possession can be enjoyed; I have loved, gamed, drunk, but I have never
lost my character as a gentleman: thank Heaven, I have no remorse of that
sort! Follow my example to the last and you will die as easily. I have
left you my correspondence and my journal; you may publish them if you
like; if not, burn them. They are full of amusing anecdotes; but I don't
care for fame, as you well know--especially posthumous fame. Do as you
please then, with my literary remains. Take care of my dog--'tis a good
creature; and let me be quietly buried. No bad taste--no ostentation--no