Holding that little hand between his own, he spoke a few strong, reviving words to her.
He told her, in the first place, that he had spent the whole night in making himself master of her case; that his firm faith in her innocence would give him great power as her advocate; that he would do his best for her sake; but that while doing his best, they must lean on Divine Providence for support and deliverance, who, in his own good time—later, if not sooner—would vindicate the innocent.
And as he uttered these words, looking down in her face, he infused into her soul comfort and courage, and patience to meet the worst this first day of trial might bring.
But no one knew better than Mr. Worth the almost utter hopelessness of the cause he had undertaken to defend; and that was no small sacrifice for an eminently successful barrister like Ishmael Worth, who had never in the course of his professional career lost a single case, to withdraw himself from his own bar and business, and take much trouble to get admitted to practice at another, for the sake of defending an utter stranger, in whose case there seemed not more than one chance in a thousand of success.
But if there had not been even that one slight chance, still the magnanimity and tenderness of Ishmael Worth's nature would have brought him to the accused lady's side, her defender to the death.
Something like this passed through the mind of Lyon Berners as he grasped the hand of Mr. Worth, and warmly thanked him.
And then the sheriff drew Sybil's arm within his own to lead her on. Lyon Berners offered his arm to Beatrix Pendleton, and followed them. The counsel brought up the rear.
Thus the little procession entered the court-room. The presiding judge, Joseph Ruthven, sat on the bench, with two associate judges, the one on his right hand, the other on his left. A few lawyers and law officers sat or stood around in groups. On the judge's extreme right, a little below the bench, two long seats were occupied by witnesses for the prosecution; on the extreme left was the jury-box; in the intermediate space in front of the bench, stood the prisoner's dock, the witness's stand, and the counsel's tables. The remaining portion of the room, nearest the front doors, was filled up with the spectators' seats. But very few spectators were present; only some dozen villagers who had nothing better to do than to loiter there, and some score of farmers who had that morning come to market, and had dropped in to see what might be going on at the court.
Great was their excitement when they saw Mrs. Berners led in by the sheriff, and followed by her friends. They had not expected her trial would come on so soon. Indeed, an absurd rumor had prevailed that she would not be brought to trial at all. But now here she was, sure enough, and they stared at her with dilated eyes and open mouths.
Sybil impulsively put up her hand to drop her veil; but remembering Beatrix Pendleton's words, she refrained, and turned and swept her proud eye round upon the gazers, whose lids fell under her glance.