Marguerite Verne | Page 7

cold and throat
irritation it is deemed advisable to exercise caution.
"I am sorry that you will not have your papa's company this evening.
There is to be a meeting of the Board. There is always something going
on."
"Don't mind me, mamma. Please bear in mind I am good company for
myself. I remember once reading a passage in some book which said
that all the pleasure we derived had its source in ourselves, and not in
external objects. I often think of it and believe it to be true."

"What a sensible, but conceited girl!" exclaimed the proud matron as
she kissed Marguerite, and sallied forth to chaperone the Misses Lister
and their loquacious mamma.
"You dear old room, I'm with you once again," said the girl in half
dramatic tones, as she drew her favorite arm-chair near the grate and sat
down, not to read but to weave bright, golden dreams--fit task for a
sweet maiden of eighteen summers--with a quaint simplicity of manner
that is more captivating than all the wily manoeuvres that coquetry can
devise. Were there any pretty pictures in those dreams? Yes. But those
that gave the most pleasure she tried hard to shut out from her sight and
with a gentle sigh murmured "it can never be."
Sweet Marguerite! Has she her "concealments" too?
CHAPTER III.
A NOBLE CHARACTER.
In Phillip Lawson, a young lawyer of more than average ability, is
realized Pope's definition of an honest man--"the noblest work of God."
Those who think that all lawyers are a set of unscrupulous and
unprincipled men are sadly mistaken. There are in our midst men of the
legal profession who follow the paths of high-souled honor and
integrity with as unerring coarse as the magnet the north pole.
But it is in a special sense we wish to speak.
Phillip Lawson is sitting at his desk in one of the upstair apartments of
a large building not many rods from "the Chambers." His office is not
inviting in its appearance--no luxurious leather-upholstered arm-chairs,
Brussels carpeting--nothing to suggest ease or even comfort. Stamped
upon every inch of space enclosed within those four bare walls we
fancy we can almost see the words "up-hill work! up-hill work"!--and
look toward the young aspirant to see if he is in the least disheartened
thereby. But our friend receives us with a gracious smile and extends
his hand in a manner that is hearty and genuine. Even the tone of his
voice is assuring, and we listen, wrapt in admiration, forgetful that we

are trespassing upon his generosity. But we must first introduce you
personally to the subject of our remarks, that you may form your own
impression:
Phillip Lawson is not handsome. His large irregular features are not in
keeping with the proportions we call classic, nor is the sallow
complexion any improvement; but despite these facts, there is indeed
much that is attractive in Mr. Lawson's face. His gray eyes have a
tender sympathetic look--tender as that of a woman; his brows have the
reflection of genius as they are being knitted over some intricate and
perplexing law points at issue; and the look of benevolence expressed
in the lips, mouth, and chin, impart a tone of self-respect and dignity
which, united with culture and refinement, make our legal friend an
ornament to the profession.
Nor is it when office hours are over that Mr. Lawson's labors are ended.
His services are freely given to many societies. Old and young, rich and
poor, can testify to the fact.
Yet he does not rest here. Many an hour the midnight oil has burned
low as this thoughtful student sat poring over pile upon pile of some
old work as he kept up his never-flagging research, or penned his
thoughts with marvellous rapidity.
As anyone appears to better advantage in a neat, cosy little library, with
a bright fire burning in the grate, than in a cheerless, dim and prosy den,
called by way of courtesy, an "office," we thus look in upon the young
man of books and letters. Phillip Lawson has just returned from a
meeting in connexion with his church, and judging from his haggard
looks, has had a busy day. His bright-eyed little sister has made her
appearance at his elbow, and has placed upon the pretty five-o'clock
table a cup of coffee and some of her own making of tea-cakes.
"Lottie, you silly little puss, why did you go to such trouble?" asked the
admiring brother, as he took the little hands in his and looked into the
piquant face for answer.
"Just as if I am going to let you work yourself to death and starve you

into the bargain! Oh, no, my big brother, I am too selfish to keep you
for myself