Only a parent or elder brother would, however, have looked on "Joe"
as a youth, for he was some years over thirty, with a mingled air of
keenness, refinement, and alacrity about his slight but active form,
altogether with the air of some implement, not meant for ornament but
for use, and yet absolutely beautiful, through perfection of polish,
finish, applicability, and a sharpness never meant to wound, but
deserving to be cherished in a velvet case.
This case might be the pretty drawing-room, full of the choice
artistic curiosities of a man of cultivation, and presided over by
his mother, a woman of much the same bright, keen, alert sweetness of
air and countenance: still under sixty, and in perfect health and
spirits—-as well she might be, having preserved, as well as deserved,
the exclusive devotion of her only child during all the years in
which her early widowhood had made them all in all to each other.
Ten years ago, on his election to a lectureship at one of the London
hospitals, the son had set up his name on the brass plate of the door
of a comfortable house in a once fashionable quarter of London; she
had joined him there, and they had been as happy as affection and
fair success could make them. He became lecturer at a hospital, did
much for the poor, both within and without its walls, and had besides
a fair practice, both among the tradespeople, and also among the
literary, scientific, and artistic world, where their society was
valued as much as his skill.
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