His brow wore an aspect of more than ordinary care. It was but too
evident that his pillow had been disturbed. Thoughts of more than usual
perplexity had deprived him of his usual measure of repose. His very
beard looked abrupt and agitated; his dress bore marks of indifference
and haste. A slight, but tremulous movement of the head, in general but
barely visible, was now advanced into a decided shake. With a step
somewhat nimbler than aforetime, he made, as custom had long rendered
habitual, his first visit to the counting-house.
The unwearied and indefatigable Timothy Dodge sat there, with the same
crooked spectacles, and, as it might seem, mending the same pen which
the same knife had nibbed for at least half-a-century. The tripod on
which rested this grey Sidrophel of accompts looked of the like hard and
impenetrable material, as though it were grown into his similitude,
forming but a lower adjunct to his person. It was evident they had not
parted company for the last twenty years. Nature had formed him awry. A
boss or hump, of considerable elevation, extended like a huge promontory
on one shoulder; from the other depended an arm longer by some inches
than its fellow.
Pages:
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435