It provided a tedious trial, for a whole week was occupied in hearing the case, and as point after point, cunning and complicated in the extreme, came up in opposition to the prosecution, and was calmly and clearly rebutted and overthrown, it was plainly to be seen that the tide of popular feeling was turning in favor of the young and gifted lawyer, and Earle felt that his weary labor of four months had been well spent, if it gained him even this.
And who shall describe the eloquence that flowed from his lips as, with his whole heart in his work, he stood up before the multitude and made his plea?
It was clear and concise, witty and brilliant—a masterpiece of rhetoric, logic, and conclusive evidence, combined with a thorough knowledge of all the intricacies of the law, and which did not fail to impress every hearer; and, when at last he sat down, cheer after cheer arose, and a perfect storm of applause that would not be stayed testified to the admiration and conviction which he had excited.
It was a proud moment for Earle Wayne, the poor, despised convict, and Sumner Dalton, sitting there, heard all, and ground his teeth in fiercest rage.
He had not known of the case until almost the last, having been again at Newport. But it had got into the papers recently, and Earle’s name as counsel for the prosecution had attracted his attention, and he had returned to the city and been present during the last few days of the trial.
Something very like a sob burst from our hero’s grateful heart at this acknowledgment of his worth and power, but it was drowned in the din, and, though nearly every eye was fixed upon him, they saw nothing unusual—only a very handsome young man, who looked somewhat pale and worn with hard work and the excitement of the week.
The victory was his; the case was won, for a verdict was rendered in favor of his client, and the men who had hitherto shunned him and curled the lips of scorn and pity for the “poor chap with the stigma resting on his name,” now came forward to shake hands and congratulate him on his victory. His rigid course of study and discipline under Richard Forrester’s direction spoke for itself; he had been a keen, sharp-witted, successful lawyer, and his pupil bade fair to outstrip even his brilliant achievements.
“Who are you?” abruptly asked the wiry, thin-visaged man, as he grasped Earle’s hand in grateful acknowledgment after the court was dismissed.
“I do not think I have changed my identity since I last saw you, sir. I am Earle Wayne,” Earle said, with an amused smile.
“Yes, yes; but I tell you you’ve got blue blood in your veins. A man that can do what you have done is worth knowing, and I want to know what stock you came from.”