Louise seized the hand of her aunt in both of hers. "Dear aunt! you know I believe you in everything. You mean, that enduring happiness and lasting love are not insured to us by accidental qualities, by fleeting charms, but only by those virtues of the mind which bring to each other. These are the best dowry which we can possess; these never become old."
"As it happens, Louise. The virtues also, like the beauties of the body, can grow old, and become repulsive and hateful with age."
"How, dearest aunt! what is it you say? Name me a virtue which can become hateful with years."
"When they have become so, we no longer call them virtues, as a beautiful maiden can no longer be called beautiful, when time has changed her to an old and wrinkled woman."
"But, aunt, the virtues are nothing earthly."
"Perhaps."
"How can gentleness and mildness ever become hateful?"
"So soon as they degenerate into insipid indolence and listlessness."
"And manly courage?"
"Becomes imperious rudeness."