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 Mr. Whitcomb gave a short laugh.

"I yield," said he.

"You restore the mandate?"

"Yes, yes, yes! My blood be on my own head, but so it must be. It is beyond flesh and blood to withstand such a pair. You, madam, are a soceress ; and this fellow is the devil."

"I am content to be a sorceress in the cause of my unfortunate sex," cried the lady; and turning to Northcote added gravely: "And is it not high time that we acquired a devil for our advocate?"

Northcote, who from the moment of her first appearance had foreseen a victory, took her hand to his lips impulsively, with an expression of gratitude.

"I hope this will be all right," said the solicitor, viewing his surrender with a rueful smile. "You see it is the first time in my life that a foreboding has overtaken me in the midst of action. Whether it is the importance of the case, the obscurity of the advocate, or a certain flamboyancy in his bearing which is so repugnant to an English common lawyer, I cannot tell; but let me confess that I have already a premonition that I have been guilty of a mistake. And I will go farther," said Mr. Whitcomb, with a wry laugh; "I even see ruin, blue ruin for all concerned, hidden in this irresolute act. Sharp little shivers go down my spine."

"It is no more than the reaction," said Northcote, "which attends our highest resolves. Is it not in such moments that a man truly measures himself? It must have been at the fall of the barometer that Samson was shorn of his locks."