e love she bore them and their mother,
her own dead daughter; while her opponent wished only to have the
management of their large fortune.

It was nature that pleaded through the lips of the eloquent young
counsel, and he gained this case also.

But he was ill in mind and body. He could scarcely bear the thanks and
congratulations of his client and her friends.

The old lady had retained him by one large fee, and now she placed
another and a larger one in his hands; but he could not have told
whether the single banknote was for five dollars or five hundred, as he
mechanically received it and placed it in his pocketbook.

And then, with the courteous bow and smile, never omitted, because they
were natural and habitual, he turned and left the courtroom.

"What is the matter with Worth?" inquired one lawyer.

"Can't imagine; he looks very ill; shouldn't wonder if he was going to
have a congestion of the brain. It looks like it. He works too hard,"
replied another.

Old Wiseman, the law-thunderer, who had been the counsel opposed to
Ishmael in this last case, and who, in fact, was always professionally
opposed to him, but, nevertheless, personally friendly towards him, had
also noticed his pale, haggard, and distracted looks, and now hurried
after him in the fear that he should fall before reaching home.

He overtook Ishmael in the lobby. The young man was standing leaning on
the balustrade at the head of the stairs, as if unable to take another
step.

Wiseman bent over him.

"Worth, my dear fellow, what is the matter with you? Does it half kill
you to overthrow me at law?"

"I--fear that I am not well," replied Ishmael, in a hollow voice, and
with a haggard smile.

"What is it? Only exhaustion, I hope? You have been working too hard,
and you never even left the courtroom to take any refreshments to-day.
You are too much in earnest, my young friend. You take too much pains.
You apply yourself too closely. Why, bless my life, you could floor us
all any day with half the trouble! But you must always use a
trip-hammer to drive tin tacks. Take my arm, and let us go and get
something."

And the stout lawyer drew the young man's arm within his own and led him
to a restaurant that was kept on the same floor for the convenience of
the courts and their officers and other habitues of the City Hall.

Wiseman called for the best old Otard brandy, and poured out half a
tumblerful, and offered it to Ishmael. It was a d