“Then, Heaven help me, what shall I do?” exclaimed the widow, weeping afresh.

“Do not distress yourself.  I will call and see you this afternoon.  And if your case is what you represent it to be, I will undertake to conduct it,” said Ishmael.  And in that moment he made up his mind that if he should find the widow’s cause a just one, he would once more make a free offering of his services.

The new client thanked him, gave her address, and departed.

Ishmael turned to go into the courtroom, and found himself confronted with Mr. Brudenell.

“Good-morning, Mr. Worth!  I see you have another client already.”

“A possible one, sir,” replied Ishmael, smiling with satisfaction as he shook hands with Mr. Brudenell.

“A poor one, you mean!  Poor widows with claims always make a prey of young lawyers, who are supposed to be willing to plead for nothing, rather than not plead at all!  And it is all very well, as it gives the latter an opening.  But you are not one of those briefless lawyers; you have already made your mark in the world, and so you must not permit these female forlornities that haunt the courts to consume all your time and attention.”

“Sir,” said Ishmael gravely and fervently, “I owe so much to God—­so much more than I can ever hope to pay, that at least I must show my gratitude to him by working for his poor!  Do you not think that is only right, sir?”

And Ishmael looked into the face of this stranger, whom he had seen but once before, with a singular longing for his approval.

“Yes!  I do! my—­I do, Mr. Worth!” replied Brudenell with emotion, as they entered the courtroom together.

Late that afternoon Ishmael kept his appointment with the widow Cobham, and their consultation ended in Ishmael’s acceptance of her brief.  Other clients also came to him, and soon his hands were full of business.

As the Supreme Court had risen, and Judge Merlin had little or no official business on hand, Ishmael’s position in his office was almost a sinecure, and therefore the young man delicately hinted to his employer the propriety of a separation between them.

“No, Ishmael!  I cannot make up my mind to part with you yet.  It is true, as you say, that there is little to do now; but recollect that for months past there has been a great deal to do, and you have done about four times as much work for me as I was entitled to expect of you.  So that now you have earned the right to stay on with me to the end of the year, without doing any work at all.”

“But, sir—­”

“But I won’t hear a word about your leaving us just yet, Ishmael.  I will hold you to your engagement, at least until the first of June, when we all return to Tanglewood; then, if you wish it, of course I will release you, as your professional duties will require your presence in the city.  But while we remain in town, I will not consent to your leaving us, nor release you from your engagement,” said the judge.