number of sympathizing friends,who seemed to have sprung up on all sides, like mushrooms, in a single night. There were, of course, plenty of cautious people left who wanted to hear the verdict of the jury before giving their opinion, and who still believed him guilty. The sudden appearance of Sal Rawlins had turned the great tide of public feeling in favor of the prisoner, and many who had been loudest in their denunciations of Fitzgerald were now more than half convinced of his innocence. Pious clergymen talked in an incoherent way about the finger of God and the innocent not suffering unjustly, which was a case of counting unhatched chickens, as the verdict had yet to be given.
Felix Rolleston awoke, and found himself famous in a small way. Out of good-natured sympathy and a spice of contrariness, he had declared his belief in Brian's innocence, and now, to his astonishment, found that his view of the matter was likely to be a correct one. He received so much praise on all sides for his presumed cleverness, that he soon began to think that he had believed in Fitzgerald's innocence by a calm course of reasoning, and not because of a desire to differ from everyone else in their opinion of the case. After all, Felix Rolleston is not the only man who has been astonished to find greatness thrust upon him, and come to believe himself worthy of it. He was a wise man, however, and while in the full tide of prosperity seized the flying moment, and proposed to Miss Featherweight, who, after some hesitation, agreed to endow him with herself and her thousands. She decided that her future husband was a man of no common intellect, seeing that he had long ago arrived at a conclusion which the rest of Melbourne were only beginning to discover now, so she determined that, as soon as she assumed marital authority, Felix, like Strephon in "Iolanthe," should go into Parliament, and with her money and his brains she might some day be the wife of a premier. Mr. Rolleston had no idea of the political honors which his future spouse intended he should have, and was seated in his old place in the court, talking about the case.
"Knew he was innocent, don't you know," he said with a complacent smile. "Fitzgerald's too jolly good-looking a fellow, and all that sort of thing, to commit murder."
Whereupon a clergyman, happening to overhear the
