But they who knew him best were aware that he did not bear
trouble well. In any trouble, such as was this about the necklace, there
would come over his face a look of weakness which betrayed the want of
real inner strength. How many faces one sees which, in ordinary
circumstances, are comfortable, self-asserting, sufficient, and even bold;
the lines of which, under difficulties, collapse and become mean,
spiritless, and insignificant. There are faces which, in their usual form,
seem to bluster with prosperity, but which the loss of a dozen points at
whist will reduce to that currish aspect which reminds one of a dog-whip.
Mr. Camperdown's countenance, when Lord Fawn and Mr. Eustace left him, had
fallen away into this meanness of appearance. He no longer carried himself
as a man owning a dog-whip, but rather as the hound that feared it.
A better attorney for the purposes to which his life was devoted did not
exist in London than Mr. Camperdown. To say that he was honest is nothing.
To describe him simply as zealous would be to fall very short of his
merits. The interests of his clients were his own interests, and the legal
rights of the properties of which he had the legal charge were as dear to
him as his own blood.
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