“Oh,” answered Effie meditatively, “I am glad that you did win. You do like to win, doesn’t you, daddy, dear.”
“Then I will give you a kiss, daddy, because you did win,” and she suited the action to the word.
Geoffrey went from the little room with a softened heart. He dressed and ate some dinner.
Then he sat down and wrote a long letter to Beatrice, telling her all about the trial, and not sparing her his reasons for adopting each particular tactic and line of argument which conduced to the great result.
And though his letter was four sheets in length, he knew that Beatrice would not be bored at having to read it.
THE RISING STAR
As might be expected, the memorable case of Parsons and Douse proved to be the turning point in Geoffrey’s career, which was thenceforward one of brilliant and startling success. On the very next morning when he reached his chambers it was to find three heavy briefs awaiting him, and they proved to be but the heralds of an uninterrupted flow of lucrative business. Of course, he was not a Queen’s Counsel, but now that his great natural powers of advocacy had become generally known, solicitors frequently employed him alone, or gave him another junior, so that he might bring those powers to bear upon juries. Now it was, too, that Geoffrey reaped the fruits of the arduous legal studies which he had followed without cessation from the time when he found himself thrown upon his own resources, and which had made a sound lawyer of him as well as a brilliant and effective advocate. Soon, even with his great capacity for work, he had as much business as he could attend to. When fortune gives good gifts, she generally does so with a lavish hand.
Thus it came to pass that, about three weeks after the trial of Parsons and Douse, Geoffrey’s uncle the solicitor died, and to his surprise left him twenty thousand pounds, “believing,” he said in his will, which was dated three days before the testator’s death, “that this sum will assist him to rise to the head of his profession.”
Now that it had dawned upon her that her husband really was a success, Honoria’s manner towards him modified very considerably. She even became amiable, and once or twice almost affectionate. When Geoffrey told her of the twenty thousand pounds she was radiant.
“Why, we shall be able to go back to Bolton Street now,” she said, “and as luck will have it, our old house is to let. I saw a bill in the window yesterday.”
“Yes,” he said, “you can go back as soon as you like.”
“And can we keep a carriage?”
“No, not yet; I am doing well, but not well enough for that. Next year, if I live, you will be able to have a carriage. Don’t begin to grumble, Honoria. I have got L150 to spare, and if you care to come round to a jeweller’s you can spend it on what you like.”