known. It had
granted all that the young advocate had asked for his client--the
exclusive possession of her children, her property, and her earnings,
and also alimony from her husband.

As Ishmael passed out of the court amid the tearful thanks of the
mother and her children, and the proud congratulations of honest Reuben
and Hannah, he neared the group composed of Judge Merlin, Claudia, and
Beatrice.

Judge Merlin looked smiling and congratulatory; he shook hands with
young barrister, saying:

"Well, Ishmael, you have rather waked up the world to-day, haven't you?"

Bee looked perfectly radiant with joy. Her fingers closed spasmodically
on the hand that Ishmael offered her, and she exclaimed a little
incoherently:

"Oh, Ishmael, I always knew you could! I am so happy!"

"Thank you, dearest Bee! Under Divine Providence I owe a great deal of
my success to-day to your sympathy."

Claudia did not speak; she was deadly pale and cold; her face was like
marble and her hand like ice, as she gave it to Ishmael. She had always
appreciated and loved him against her will; but now, in this hour of his
triumph, when he had discovered to the world his real power and worth,
her love rose to an anguish of longing that she knew her pride must
forever deny; and so when Ishmael took her hand and looked in her face
for the words of sympathy that his heart was hungering to receive from
her of all the world, she could not speak.

Ishmael passed out with his friends. When he had gone, a stranger who
had been watching him with the deepest interest during the whole course
of the trial, now came forward, and, with an agitation impossible to
conceal, hastily inquired:

"Judge Merlin, for Heaven's sake! who is that young man?"

"Eh! what! Brudenell, you here! When did you arrive?"

"This morning! But for the love of Heaven who is that young man?"

"Who? why the most talented young barrister of the day--a future chief
justice, attorney-general, President of the United States, for aught I
know! It looks like it, for whatever may be the aspirations of the boy,
his intellect and will are sure to realize them!"

"Yes, but who is he? what is his name? who were his parents? where was
he born?" demanded Herman Brudenell excitedly.

"Why, the Lord bless my soul alive, man! He is a self-made barrister;
his name is Ishmael Worth; his mother was a poor weaver girl named Nora
Worth; his father was an unknown scoundrel; he was born at a little