[CHAPTER V.]
FOUND—A FRIEND.
Most delicately hour by hour
He canvassed human mysteries,
And trod on silk, as if the winds
Blew his own praises in his eyes,
And stood aloof from other minds
In impotence of fancied power.
Mr. Robinson was a man whom women trusted almost instinctively, for, in the first place, he was tall and well made, possessing the advantage of strong, square shoulders and straight, capable-looking legs.
A rogue, especially in the lawyer world, is apt to be thought of as a man of small type, with sharp features, sallow complexion and little, piercing eyes.
Mr. Robinson was florid in complexion, large and muscular in type, fair and frank in manner. He had a way of speaking about business as if everything he did might, with no drawback to himself, remain open for the inspection of men and angels; perhaps best of all, at least so far as ladies and clergymen were concerned, was the pleasing habit he possessed of throwing religion into everything: testamentary dispositions, settlements, conveyancing, chancery suits, all could be conveniently ticketed with a text, and laid away in the capacious recesses of Mr. Robinson's memory, to be brought out on some suitable occasion as notable proofs of his own high position in the favor of Providence.
Mr. Robinson was married. He had thought it incumbent on him to leave progeny on the earth when, to use his lightly-spoken phrase, "himself should be gathered to his fathers." That he possessed, or had once possessed, a father, was a self-evident fact. With regard to the plural number some might be tempted to ejaculate, "The fathers! where are they?" but these were skeptical individuals, verging no doubt on infidelity, for Mr. Robinson considered faith a cardinal virtue, and possessed a genealogical tree which threw its branches far and wide, and traced back to unknown antiquity, or at least to William the Conqueror and Rollo the Norman, the ancestors of the Robinson family, and of those who had been so happy as to form any connection with it.
This famous specimen of art hung up in Mr. Robinson's office, and was frequently exhibited in all its fulness of detail to lady-clients. They were often obliging enough to interest themselves specially in the lowest branch, where Mr. Robinson had written in a small clear handwriting the names of six boys, happy fruit of wedlock, destined no doubt to be illustrious, and—not elevate; that would scarcely be possible, considering their antecedents, but—preserve the character of the Robinson family and honor its traditions.
"In the mean time," Mr. Robinson would say, opening the account-book, settlement or will which his lady-client had come to consult, and laughing out a clear hearty laugh which told of no arrière-pensée, "I keep the young beggars in good order."
Mr. Robinson was always very busy. If clients, ladies principally, did not happen to be with him during the whole morning, he had a vast arrear of letters to finish. He therefore possessed a large gloomy-looking room, where applicants for the favor of admission to a private interview generally waited until he could be disengaged.