“It is safe to say that no man was ever called to the bar who was more honestly beloved by all who understood the secret workings of his mind than was Joseph Brudenell. Subtle it was not, it was not agile, and it was not profound; indeed the possession of that simple and unsagacious implement conferred only one claim to preëminence. It is as a great and honest gentleman that Joseph Brudenell will be called to the Valhalla of his gods. He was past master in one art only: the art which embraces the amenities of life. Unsympathetic critics he has had in his public capacity. He has been called a pedant, a weakling, one deficient in insight; even his scholarship, which was so laboriously honorable, has not escaped inquiry; but the void left by that massive and ungainly form can never be filled. In this time, at least, his like will not be seen. A rare jewel has been resolved to its element; earth is the poorer by an English gentleman.” These words served to heighten Northcote’s indignation against himself. The stab he had directed at the judge increased in infamy. Already it seemed as if he had paid an exorbitant price for his success. However, in the midst of his anguish and perplexity, he heard feet on his staircase. There came a knock to his door. It was the solicitor. “Well, my boy,” said Mr. Whitcomb, shaking his hand affectionately, “do you see you have killed the judge?” “Yes,” said Northcote, “but I saved the life of your client.” XXXII MEDIOCRITY ASPIRING TO VIRTUE The advocate handed the _Age_ to the solicitor. “You may have seen it,” he said. “I am honored with a leading article.” “I have read it. It means your removal from the top story to the basement.” “I don’t understand.” “It ensures that your professional emoluments will not be less than two thousand a year.” “That would be very well had I not arrived at the conclusion that the game is not worth the candle. The penalties are too great.” “Why consider them, dear boy? Why not accept the gifts of the gods in a thankful and contrite spirit?” “You would have me drink the nectar that they offer although they hand it in a poisoned cup?” “You are a queer fellow. You accept starvation with a dignified humility, but the instant you touch success--and such a success!--you make a face.” “Such a success--there you have it all!” “My dear fellow, whoever in this world got off the mark with such a flying start? You have awoke this morning to find yourself famous.” “Bah! I am poisoned; I have got my death!” “Within five years, if you keep your head, you will be making a princely income.” “I know it.” “And two days ago you could not afford to pay for a fire in the middle of winter.” “You are perfectly right.” “Two days ago you could not fill your belly when you were hungry.”