The jury hastily and joyfully assented:  the verdict was recorded, and the court adjourned for an hour in the midst of tumultuous excitement.  The result of the trial flew through the crowd outside like wildfire; and when Lady Compton and her son, after struggling through the densely-crowded court, stepped into Sir Jasper’s carriage, which was in waiting at the door, the enthusiastic uproar that ensued—­the hurrahing, shouting, waving of hats and handkerchiefs—­deafened and bewildered one; and it was upwards of an hour ere the slow-moving chariot reached Sir Jasper’s mansion, though not more than half a mile distant from the town.  Mr. Ferret, mounted on the box, and almost smothered in purple and orange, was a conspicuous object, and a prime favorite with the crowd.  The next day Lord Emsdale, glad, doubtless, to quit the neighborhood as speedily as possible, left the castle, giving Lady Compton immediate possession.  The joy of the tenantry was unbounded, and under the wakeful superintendence of Mr. Ferret, all claims against Lord Emsdale for received rents, dilapidations, &c. were adjusted, we may be sure, not adversely to his client’s interests; though he frequently complained, not half so satisfactorily as if Lady Compton had not interfered, with what Mr. Ferret deemed misplaced generosity in the matter.

As I was obliged to proceed onwards with the circuit, I called at Compton Castle to take leave of my interesting and fortunate client a few days after her installation there.  I was most gratefully received and entertained.  As I shook hands at parting, her ladyship, after pressing upon me a diamond ring of great value, said, whilst her charming eyes filled with regretful, yet joyful tears, “Do not forget that poor Henry intended at last to do us justice.”  Prosperity, thought I, will not spoil that woman.  It has not, as the world, were I authorized to communicate her real name, would readily acknowledge.

THE MOTHER AND SON.

Dinner had been over about half an hour one Sunday afternoon.—­the only day on which for years I had been able to enjoy a dinner—­and I was leisurely sipping a glass of wine, when a carriage drove rapidly up to the door, a loud rat-tat followed, and my friend Dr. Curteis, to my great surprise, was announced.

“I have called,” said the doctor as we shook hands, “to ask you to accompany me to Mount Place.  I have just received a hurried note from Miss Armitage, stating that her mother, after a very brief illness, is rapidly sinking, and requesting my attendance, as well as that of a legal gentleman, immediately.”

“Mrs. Armitage!” I exclaimed, inexpressibly shocked.  “Why, it is scarcely more than a fortnight ago that I met her at the Rochfords’ in brilliant health and spirits.”

“Even so.  But will you accompany me?  I don’t know where to find any one else for the moment, and time presses.”