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 _arriere-pensee_, "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.

It was into this room that Margaret was shown when, her determination having outlasted dressing and breakfast, she presented herself to ask if she might see Mr. Robinson.

The clerk said that a gentleman was with Mr. Robinson, but no doubt he would be disengaged presently. He took up her card, and Margaret sat down in the waiting-room, rather glad of the opportunity afforded her of collecting her thoughts, and considering how she could open the subject, for, now that she was actually bound on the errand of asking a guarantee of respectability from the man she had hitherto looked upon simply as the person who sent her money and transacted her business, it seemed rather harder than she had imagined.

She had a longer time for preparation than she could have desired. Mr. Robinson, as he afterward informed her, was literally overwhelmed with work.

He rose when she entered, set a chair for her, then resumed his own. His manner was nonchalant, even, some might have said, unpolished in its freedom, as he expressed his pleasure at seeing Mrs. Grey, and his hope that nothing unpleasant had brought her so far from home.

Mr. Robinson was much commended for his easy natural manners, but on this occasion, as on a few others, an acute observer might have detected something of nervousness underlying his expansive gestures.

When he had exhausted his vocabulary, Mrs. Grey spoke. Lifting her veil, she fixed her soft brown eyes on Mr. Robinson's face. "I have come to consult you," she said.

"Most happy, I am sure," he replied briskly--"any assistance in my power. It was an unfortunate business. Happily, we secured enough for maintenance."

"You allude to my losses, Mr. Robinson. I am, unfortunately, no woman of business, so I have scarcely understood how it comes that my income is so diminished; but I assure you that I have full confidence in your judgment. Perhaps, as I have come, you will be able to explain these matters to me."

"And delighted," he answered with some eagerness; "it is one of my peculiar crotchets in business to keep all my clients very conversant with their own affairs. Others act differently, but 'Do unto others,' you know, is one of my chief rules. I live by rule, Mrs. Grey--the highest of all rules, I hope. See here, now," and he laid his hand on a pile of account-books, "this is a case in point. Mrs. Herbert, a widow, large estates, before consulting me scarcely knew what she possessed; now looks regularly over the books, spends an hour here once a month. Danvers, again: young lady about to be married, sent for me to draw up the settlement. 'You know all about me, Mr. Robinson,' she said; 'draw it up as you like.' 'Excuse me, Miss Danvers,' said I. 'I should prefer you to use your own judgment in the matter.' She has done so, and in the course of conversation on the subject has made some very sensible suggestions."

Mr. Robinson did not say to how many different interviews the sensible suggestions had given rise; certainly, however, he had been no loser by them.

"I could quote hundreds of instances, all tending the same way," he continued.

Poor Margaret shook her head: "I am afraid I should find it very difficult to understand."

"Not at all, not at all. Look here, now. What are you anxious to know? I venture to say I'll make it clear to you before you leave this room."

Margaret smiled. This man's frankness pleased her. His manner, though a little unpolished, was, she thought, anything but displeasing; then he seemed to understand business thoroughly. Perhaps he would show that, after all, her affairs were not so desperate as they seemed.

"I am first anxious to know what you mean by writing to me that one of the mortgages has turned out badly," she said.

"Easy to explain," he answered, with a self-satisfied smile. "Only, perhaps, by the bye, I shall have to begin with the A B C, as one may say, and acquaint you with the nature of a mortgage."

"If you please, Mr. Robinson; I am afraid I am ignorant even to that extent."

"So much the better, Mrs. Grey, so much the better: 'A little knowledge'--you know the proverb. Ladies take up _such_ ideas when they know, as they imagine, something of business! I had far rather deal with total ignorance on these points; but don't be discouraged. We must begin at the very beginning. Forsaking business terms altogether for the moment, I will, if you please, put this to you simply. You take me, Mrs. Grey?" He smiled with a frankness that was charming to behold. "Do at Rome as Rome does. With ladies talk of business as they are able to understand."

Mrs. Grey smiled her acquiescence.

"Agreed," cried the lawyer effusively. "Well, then, to work. Say now, by way of illustration"--he took a pencil as he spoke and drew a line, writing A at the one end, B at the other and C in the centre--"A represents a person who has a landed estate, houses, what not; B has no landed property, but the value of A's estate in money. B wants to put out his money in some safe way; A, who does not care to sell his property, wants money; steps in C, the intermediate person--a lawyer, we shall say--known to both parties. He negotiates between them, finally arranging for B to lend his money to A on the security of A's property. A deed of mortgage is then drawn up, which makes the agreement binding. A has B's money, pays a half-yearly interest, and if, after a six months' notice, the sum originally lent is not forthcoming, A's property may be sold to make good the default. Do you follow me, Mrs. Grey?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Robinson. You have made clear to me what I never understood before; but under these circumstances I cannot see how my money was actually lost. The property would always be there."

"True, Mrs. Grey." Mr. Robinson gave a somewhat peculiar smile. "I am glad to see that you understand me so thoroughly; your suggestion is in the highest degree practical; there is one consideration, however, which we have not taken into account. Land, unfortunately, depreciates in value, so that at times it would be highly dangerous to the interests of the mortgagee to press a sale. At other times the title of the mortgagor is not perfectly clear. All these things should be carefully looked into beforehand. In your case everything was done, but one cannot be always certain. However, excuse me for correcting your slight inaccuracy. I _think_ I never said that this sum of money was lost. I like to be perfectly certain on these points. Perhaps you can refer to the passage in my letter in which I announced this unfortunate business."

He looked at her with some anxiety--nervousness perhaps an acute observer might have said, but Margaret was not an acute observer.

She smiled and shook her head: "Quite impossible, Mr. Robinson. I never keep my letters, especially business ones. I _have_ been told that this habit is a bad one; but _a quoi bon?_ It is really too much trouble."

The lawyer showed his teeth. "A lady's view of matters," he said briskly; "and, after all, full of common sense. Why _should_ you trouble yourself? However, to return _a nos moutongs_, as the French would say" (Mr. Robinson had spent a year in a French school, and considered himself a perfect master of the language), "I am happy to say that your affairs are likely to take a favorable turn. I have a hold on the fellow for another little matter; indeed, I may say that he is completely in my power. With your permission I will open proceedings against him."

Mr. Robinson always spoke the truth--at least, as some one said in the House of Commons lately, "what he thought the truth." But, though his affairs were open to the inspection of men and angels, he did not consider mental reservation a sin, even where it would seriously affect the character of a truth which he had ingenuously stated. He guarded himself from telling Mrs. Grey that the other little business was a large sum owed to himself by Mrs. Grey's debtor, and that he was fully determined to screw this out of him before another debt should be paid.

The knowledge of want or of something approaching it--want rather of the refinements of life than of its necessities--had made Margaret look with far more interest on money than she had ever done before. Formerly, it had been a certain something that always came at the right moment--for Mr. Robinson was as regular as clockwork in the transaction of his business--and that came in amounts amply sufficient to meet every need. What wonder that she thought little of how it came, and was tolerably lavish in its expenditure?

Now, everything was changed. Money meant education for Laura, the refinements and amenities of life for herself; above all, independence. The want of it meant servitude, drudgery, perhaps even the squalor of poverty. But she was not sufficiently acquainted with business to imagine that some one might be to blame for the failing mortgage--that it could be possible to call her solicitor to account.

She trusted Mr. Robinson implicitly. For was he not a good man? Righteous overmuch, some people said; one who conducted his business in an open, off-hand kind of way, which savored more of the harmlessness of the dove than of the wisdom of the serpent? Did not his frank smile and cheerful greeting speak of a quiet conscience? Did not worthy people of all denominations consult him in the management of their affairs?

Margaret could not have suspected Mr. Robinson, and his cheerful way of suggesting proceedings and their mysterious effect filled her with new hope. She looked up eagerly: "Oh, Mr. Robinson, then you really think there is hope?"

"My dear lady," he answered in his peculiarly lively way, "I have not the smallest doubt of it. Be content, for the time being, with your small income, and, take my word for it, before six months have passed over our heads we shall (by the Divine assistance--of course, we must never forget that, Mrs. Grey) be able to pay back into your account the larger part, if not all, of the sum in question."

The tears filled Margaret's eyes. Had she grown so very mercenary, then? I scarcely think so. _Her_ delight was that of the escaped captive. There would be no necessity now to prosecute her painful search for employment. The yoke that already, by anticipation, was galling her might be thrown off with a clear conscience. Mr. Robinson's word meant more than that of most people, and he gave six months as the duration of her penury. During that time her little daughter would scarcely require more instruction than she could give; they had still sufficient to enable them to live quietly; and even should she be a loser to some extent, there would no doubt be sufficient left for Laura's education. If not, it would be time enough then to think of ways and means.

She gave a sigh of intense relief, then looked up, smiling through a mist of gathering tears: "I am very foolish, Mr. Robinson, but your words have taken _such_ a load from my mind! I had come here to-day to consult you about taking a situation as governess. They wanted--that is, I mean," she blushed as she spoke, "a reference, you know, was necessary, so I came to you about it."

"To give you a reference," replied he, with a smile that made Margaret wince, there was so much assurance in its cordiality. "You could not have come to a better person. My connection is very large, and, I may say without unduly boasting (these earthly gifts must all be looked upon as coming from above), where the name of Robinson is known it is respected. A curious proof of this occurred yesterday." Here Mr. Robinson was interrupted by one of his clerks, who brought up the intimation that Lord ---- was waiting to see him. "Say I am with a lady-client; beg his lordship to wait a few moments." Then, as the clerk went down with the message, "You see," he continued, turning to Mrs. Grey, "all my clients stand on the same footing. If the prince of Wales came here to consult me on business-matters, I should request him to wait his turn. But as we need not keep any one unnecessarily in suspense, my little anecdote must be narrated on another occasion. Remarkable circumstance, too--fresh proof, if that were needed, of the existence of an overruling Providence."

Margaret rose from her seat, scarcely perhaps so impressed as she might have been with the noble impartiality of her solicitor.

"One moment," he said, drawing out his cheque-book. Now, Mr. Robinson loved his cheque-book. It was his sceptre, the insignia of his power. He always produced it with a certain consciousness of superiority, and made over the trifling pieces of paper which his name had rendered valuable as if they had been princely gifts.

"While this affair is pending," he continued pompously, "you are no doubt somewhat straitened. I shall be glad to relieve you from undue embarrassment. I will write out a cheque for twenty pounds. And you may draw upon me--from time to time--always in moderation, of course."

A blush dyed Margaret's cheek. For a moment she felt disinclined to put herself under any obligation to this man, whose style of offering assistance was not very palatable to her high spirits. Then she remembered that this was business--a thing, no doubt, done every day. And his manner--Well, it was simply that of a man not quite accustomed to polite society. It arose from ignorance, and was a proof, if any were needed, of his honesty. His worst faults lay evidently on the surface, covering over, as in many cases, a good and noble nature.

These, allow me to say, were Margaret's reflections; it does not, therefore, follow that they were absolutely correct. Women have a trick of rushing to conclusions. A man weighs and balances, sets this quality against that, thinks out the effect of one upon the other, and in many cases comes to a conclusion slowly and with difficulty. It is well. He is not so often deceived. A woman has generally a preconceived idea, a prejudice for or against. This being so, it is more than natural that some expression of countenance, some tone of voice, some trick of manner, should fall in with her preformed judgment, and cause, in the shortest time imaginable, a conclusion which scarcely anything will shake. She believes even against proof self-evident to the rest of the world. This, no doubt, is partly the reason why helpless, lonely women are so often cheated and robbed.

Margaret was in this position. I do not mean to say that she had been cheated and robbed. Her position was that of full confidence in the man who transacted her business. She had thought of him as a friend: she had found him frank and honest, no suspicion of the legal rogue in his face or manner. Therefore she came to this conclusion: Mr. Robinson was her friend, he looked after her interests very carefully, he would set her affairs right if any one could. This being so, what mattered a little want of polish? She could very well afford to dispense with it.

"Thank you," she said as Mr. Robinson handed her the cheque; "I cannot deny that this will be of present assistance to me."

Mr. Robinson then rose in his turn, shook his fair client's hand with perhaps more than necessary empressement, and escorted her to the door.