At this point the learned Attorney-General, forgetting his learning and the exceeding augustness of his position, actually reverted to those first principles of human nature of which the Judge had spoken, and doubled his fist.  Indeed, had not Mr. News, utterly aghast at such a sight, rushed up and dragged his infuriated client back, there is no knowing what scandalous thing might not have happened.

But somehow he was got rid of, and everybody melted away, leaving the ushers to go round and collect the blotting-paper and pens which strewed the empty court.

“And now, good people,” said Lady Holmhurst, “I think that the best thing that we can do is all to go home and rest before dinner.  I ordered it at seven, and it is half-past five.  I hope that you will come, too, Mr. Short, and bring your brother with you; for I am sure that you, both of you, deserve your dinner, if ever anybody did.”

And so they all went, and a very jolly dinner they had, as well they might.  At last, however, it came to an end, and the legal twins departed, beaming like stars with happiness and champagne.  And then Lady Holmhurst departed also, and left Eustace and Augusta alone.

“Life is a queer thing,” said Eustace; “here this morning I was a publisher’s reader at L180 a year; and now, to-night, if this verdict holds, it seems that I am one of the wealthiest men in England.”

“Yes, dear,” said Augusta, “and with all the world at your feet, for life is full of opportunities to the rich.  You have a great future before you, Eustace; I really am ashamed to marry so rich a man.”

“My darling,” he said, putting his arm round her; “whatever I have I owe to you.  Do you know there is only one thing that I fear about all this money, if it really comes to us; and that is that you will be so taken up with what pleasure-seeking people call social duties, and the distribution of it, that you will give up your writing.  So many women are like that.  Whatever ability they have seems to vanish utterly away upon their wedding-day.  They say afterwards that they have no time, but I often think it is because they do not choose to make time.”

“Yes,” answered Augusta; “but then that is because they do not really love their work, whatever it may be.  Those who really love their art as I love mine, with heart and soul and strength, will not be so easily checked.  Of course, distractions and cares come with marriage; but, on the other hand, if one marries happily, there comes quiet of mind and cessation from that ceaseless restlessness that is so fatal to good work.  You need not fear, Eustace; if I can, I will show the world that you have not married a dullard; and if I can’t—­why, my dear, it will be because I am one.”

“That comes very nicely from the author of ‘Jemima’s Vow,’” said Eustace, with sarcasm.  “Really, my dear, what between your fame as a writer and as the heroine of the shipwreck and of the great will case, I think that I had better take a back seat at once, for I shall certainly be known as the husband of the beautiful and gifted Mrs. Meeson”—­