Ishmael was very much admired and courted by the best circles of the Capital; but, though eminently social and affectionate in his nature, he entered only moderately into society. Devotion to company and attention to business were incompatible, he knew.
If there ever happened to be an alternative of a tempting evening party, where he might be sure of meeting many congenial friends on the one hand, and an impending case that required careful preparation on the other, you may rely on it that Ishmael sacrificed pleasure and gave himself up to duty. And this he did, not occasionally, but always; in this way he earned and retained his high position.
And, ambitious young reader, this is the only way.
Thus in useful and successful work Ishmael employed the autumn that
Claudia in her distant home was wasting in idleness and repinings.
On the first Monday in December Congress met, as usual. And about the middle of the month the Supreme Court sat.
Therefore Ishmael was not very much surprised when one morning, just after he had brought a very difficult suit to a triumphant termination, he saw his friend Judge Merlin enter his private office.
Ishmael started up joyously to greet his visitor; but stopped short on, seeing how pale, haggard, and feeble the old man looked. And his impulsive exclamation of: "Oh, judge, I am so glad to see you," changed at once to the commiserating words—"How sorry I feel to see you so indisposed! Have you been ill long?" he inquired, as he placed his easiest chair for the supposed invalid.
"Yes, I have been ill, Ishmael, very ill; but not long, and not in body—in mind, Ishmael, in mind!" and the old man sank into the chair and, resting his elbow on the office table, bowed his stricken head upon his hand.
Ishmael drew near and bent over him in respectful sympathy, waiting for his confidence. But as the judge continued overwhelmed and silent, the young man took the initiative, and in A soft and reverential tone said:
"I do hope, sir, that you have met with no serious trouble."