an instant the whole building tumbles to pieces.
The change takes place so suddenly, too. The
Gordian knot is cut, not untied, and the whole
condition of our affairs is so utterly different in
the evening to what it was in the morning, that
we can hardly, as we lie down at night, recognise
ourselves as the same beings who got up
in the morning with such widely different prospects.
At last Gilbert fell asleep towards morning,
and dreamed that he had to make a speech
in court; that he did not know one single point
of the case; that he could not get his gown on;
and that his wig had turned into a coal-scuttle,
for it is with refreshing imaginings of this
sort that we are sometimes reinvigorated after
passing a bad night.

Then when he went to sleep his wife awoke
and lay there a prey to dismal thoughts and
grim forebodings, such as most of us have at
times been acquainted with in the early morning
hours; and she thought of their prospects and
quailed. A day pregnant with fate had begun
when that morning dawned, though she knew it
not. There was no sign of a day in which more
than usual might be expected to happen.

It was a dull morning when Gilbert got up to
his day's labour, and he felt jaded and unfit for
anything in consequence of his bad night. Still,
what he had to do must be done, and the day's
labours, profitable or unprofitable, must be gone
through. And so he went away without having
come to any conclusion as to the course of
conduct to be pursued with regard to his cousin,
but only resolved that something must be done.

"We will talk about it this evening, Gabrielle,"
he said, as he left the house. He went
and sat in court, briefless, and, for a time, well-
nigh hopeless. How he envied those judges on
the bench, so calm and so prosperous. How
simple their lives seemed, how assured were
their prospects. There were no signs of care,
or anxiety upon their faces. They were there
to do their duty, and they did it scrupulously,
but their responsibility seemed to sit more
lightly upon them than might be expected.
Public cares, however pressing, do not eat a
man's heart away as personal anxieties do.

Our friend Mr. Craft had a case that came on
in court that day, and Gilbert could not help
watching it with curiosity, and thinking how
much he wished that it had been entrusted to
him. He saw his way to such a distinct view
of it, too, it was quite tantalising. In the
course of the defence an opportunity occurred
of making a very important point, but the
counsel engaged by Mr. Craft failed altogether
to take advantage of it, nor did the attorney
himself seem to be struck by it. Our briefless
friend could not resist. He wrote down his
thought hastily on a slip of paper, which he
conveyed secretly into Mr. Craft's hand, and
presently he saw that gentleman get up and
whisper eagerly in his advocate's ear. There
was a brief whispered conference between these
two, and then the barrister, seeing at once the
importance of the suggestion, which came, as
he supposed, from the attorney, seized hold of
it, and indeed used it to such purpose, that from
that moment he had it all his own way, and
ultimately got his verdict with ease. Mr. Craft
made his way to where Gilbert was standing
when the court was breaking up.

"Very good 'int that, Mr. Penmore, very good
indeed, and much obliged, I'm sure. Showed a
good knowledge of law, and what's almost
more, a good knowledge of what'd do. Ah, sir!
if you was to take to chamber practice, depend
upon it you'd make a 'it yet. You've got, the
head for a lawyer, though you haven't got the
tongue." And the attorney laughed at his own
conceit, and bustled back to talk over the case
with his recent client.

It was not much this, but it gave a sort of
encouragement to our friend—a little
encouragement goes a great way with those who are
not used to it. Gilbert thought that he had
caught a glimpse of something hopeful in the
future, for he was of a sanguine nature, and as
he walked home he went over the case which
had just been tried once more, and thought if
he had had the chance of defending, how he
would have done it. The issue of the case so
evidently turned on that suggestion of his, the
prospects of the defence were so instantly
affected by it, that he even allowed himself to
hope that the judge on the bench might have
observed what had occurred, and might make
such inquiries as would lead to the discovery of
who it was that had given Mr. Craft what that
gentleman called "a 'int." Poor Gilbert! The
judge had noted the point at the time, and seeing
how it was pressed, had given Mr. Craft's well-
known acuteness the credit of the suggestion,
as had everybody else in the court. "Sharp
fellow that Craft," the gentlemen of the robe
had whispered to each other. "I'd rather have
him for me than against me, any day."

So Gilbert Penmore went home to dinner in
a hopeful mood, and with a good appetite.

He went up the steps quite gaily, and put
his key into the door, and opened and shut it
with such unaccustomed briskness, that his
little wife, who was always on the look-out
about this time, noticed instinctively to what a
gallant measure her husband was marching, and
went out into the passage to meet him.

"Has anything particular happened?" she
asked. I believe they were both always expecting
that something particular would happen.

"No, dear; nothing very particular," replied
her husband, carelessly, but with the pardonable
vanity of an ill-understood man. "I had
the luck to make rather a good suggestion
today, that was all." And he told her how it had
all happened. And Gabrielle thought she saw
him Lord Chancellor, and that the berth was
inadequate to his deserts.

And so they infected each other with their
good spirits, and were ready to sit down to
dinner in a sanguine mood. Some will have it
that these—rather than the seasons of gloomy
foreboding—are the moments in our lives which
are to be looked upon with apprehension and
alarm. Undoubtedly, it does happen not