"We need not speculate on a case that cannot arise, my dear Titmouse," replied Gammon, eying him steadfastly, and then resuming his writing.—"This paper becomes, as they say at sea, your sheet-anchor!—Here you shall remain—the owner of Yatton—of this splendid house—husband of Lady Cecilia—a member of Parliament—and in due time, as 'my Lord Drelincourt,' take your place permanently in the Upper House of Parliament, among the hereditary legislators of your country. Now, Mr. Titmouse, sign your name, and there's an end forever of all your unhappiness!"
Titmouse eagerly took the pen, and, with a very trembling hand affixed his signature to what Gammon had written.
"You'll sign it too, eh?" he inquired timidly.
"Certainly, my dear Titmouse."—Gammon affixed his signature, after a moment's consideration.—"Now we are both bound—we are friends for life! Let us shake hands, my dear, dear Titmouse, to bind the bargain!"
They did so, Gammon cordially taking into his hands those of Titmouse, who, in his anxiety and excitement, never once thought of asking Mr. Gammon to allow him to read over what had been just signed.
"Oh Lord!" he exclaimed, heaving a very deep sigh, "It seems as if we'd been only in a dream! I begin to feel something like again!—it's really all right?"
"On my sacred word of honor," replied Gammon, laying his hand on his heart, "provided you perform the engagement into which you have this day entered."
"Never fear! honor bright!" said Titmouse, placing his on his heart, with as solemn a look as he could assume.
Mr. Gammon, having folded up the paper, put it into his pocket-book.