many who knew
him to be a stern man, and there was that in his face which seemed
to warrant such a character. But he had also the reputation of being
a very just man; and those who knew him best could tell tales of
him which proved that his sternness was at any rate compatible with
a wide benevolence. He was a man who himself had known but little
mental suffering, and who owned no mental weakness; and it might
be, therefore, that he was impatient of such weakness in others. To
chance acquaintances his manners were not soft, or perhaps palatable;
but to his old friends his very brusqueness was pleasing. He was
a bachelor, well off in the world, and, to a certain extent, fond
of society. He was a solicitor by profession, having his office
somewhere in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn, and living in an
old-fashioned house not far distant from that classic spot. I have
said that he owned no mental weakness. When I say further that he
was slightly afflicted with personal vanity, and thought a good deal
about the set of his hair, the shape of his coat, the fit of his
boots, the whiteness of his hands, and the external trim of his
umbrella, perhaps I may be considered to have contradicted myself.
But such was the case. He was a handsome man too, with clear, bright,
gray eyes, a well-defined nose, and expressive mouth--of which the
lips, however, were somewhat too thin. No man with thin lips ever
seems to me to be genially human at all points.

Such was Mr. Prendergast; and my readers will, I trust, feel for Sir
Thomas, and pity him, in that he was about to place his wounds in the
hands of so ruthless a surgeon. But a surgeon, to be of use, should
be ruthless in one sense. He should have the power of cutting and
cauterizing, of phlebotomy and bone-handling without effect on his
own nerves. This power Mr. Prendergast possessed, and therefore it
may be said that Sir Thomas had chosen his surgeon judiciously. None
of the Castle Richmond family, except Sir Thomas himself, had ever
seen this gentleman, nor had Sir Thomas often come across him of
late years. But he was what we in England call an old family friend;
and I doubt whether we in England have any more valuable English
characteristic than that of having old family friends. Old family
feuds are not common with us now-a-days--not so common as with some
other people. Sons who now hated their father's enemies would have
but a bad chance before a commission of lunacy; but an old f