ded in favor of the
plaintiff--Toomey receiving every dollar of the damages claimed for him
by his attorney. In his gratitude the poor man would have pressed a
large sum of money, even to one-fifth of his gains, upon his young
counsel; but Ishmael, true to his principle of never gambling in
justice, refused to take a dollar.

That week the court adjourned; and the young barrister had leisure to
study and get up his cases for the next term. The extra session of
Congress was also over. The Washington season was in fact at an end. And
everybody was preparing to leave town.

Judge Merlin issued a proclamation that his servants should pack up all
his effects, preparatory to a migration to Tanglewood; for that chains
should not bind him to Washington any longer, nor wild horses draw him
to Saratoga, or any other place of public resort; because his very soul
was sick of crowds and longed for the wilderness.

But the son of Powhatan was destined to find that circumstances are
often stronger than those forces that he defied.

And so his departure from Washington was delayed for weeks by this
event.

One morning the Viscount Vincent called as usual, and, after a prolonged
private interview with Miss Merlin, he sent a message to Judge Merlin
requesting to see him alone for a few minutes.

Ishmael was seated with Judge Merlin in the study at the moment Powers
brought this message.

"Ah! Lord Vincent requests the honor of a private interview with me,
does he? Well, it is what I have been expecting for some days! Wonder if
he doesn't think he is conferring an honor instead of receiving one? Ask
him to be so good as to walk up, Powers. Ishmael, my dear boy, excuse me
for dismissing you for a few minutes; but pray return to me as soon as
this Lord--'Foppington'--leaves me. May Satan fly away with him, for I
know he is coming to ask me for my girl!"

It was well that Ishmael happened to be sitting with his back to the
window. It was well also that Judge Merlin did not look up as his young
partner passed out, else would the judge have seen the haggard
countenance which would have told him more eloquently than words could
of the force of the blow that had fallen on Ishmael's heart.

He went up into his own little room, and sat down at his desk, and
leaning his brow upon his hand struggled with the anguish that wrung his
heart.

It had fallen, then! It had fallen--the crushing blow! Claudia was
betrothed to the viscount. He mi