every evening, had just come in and had taken his seat at the desk
in the corner appropriated to him, beneath the small dingy window,
looking out upon the yard. Longears was stretched at his feet.

Verty's face was more dreamy and thoughtful than ever. The dim smile
still dwelt upon his lips, and though his countenance had as much of
the forest Indian character as ever, there was a languor about the
drooping eyelids, with their long lashes, and a stoop in the usually
erect neck, which betrayed the existence in the boy's mind of some
ever-present sadness. His costume was just what it had always
been--moccasins, deerskin leggings, a shaggy forest _paletot_, and
fringed leather gauntlets, which now lay by him near his white fur
hat. He had not changed by becoming a lawyer's clerk; but, on the
contrary, grown more wild, apparently from the very contrast between
his forest appearance and the dingy office.

At times Verty would stretch out his hand, and, taking his cedar bow
from a chair, bend it thoughtfully, and utter the low Indian murmur,
which has been represented by the letters, "_ough_" so unsuccessfully;
then he would allow the weapon to slide from his nerveless hand--his
head would droop--the dim dreamy smile would light up his features
for an instant, and he would lean upon the desk and ponder--his
countenance half enveloped by the long tangled chestnut hair which
still flowed upon his shoulders in wild luxuriance.

Tired of thinking at last, Verty sighed, and took up his pen. For some
moments it glided slowly over the law parchment, and the contortions
of Verty's face betrayed the terrible effort necessary for him to
make in copying. Then his eyes no longer sought the paper to be
transcribed--his face lit up for a moment, and his pen moved faster.