And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me, says:
“Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow.”
“Must it, sir?” says I; “now, for my part, I don't think—”
“Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?”
This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, for master had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot my book to serve him in prisn or starving.
“Well,” says my lord, “you see the force of my argument. Now, look here!” and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! “If my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; and I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your present wages.”
Flesh and blood cooden bear it. “My lord,” says I, laying my hand upon my busm, “only give me security, and I'm yours for ever.”
The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. “Right, my lad,” says he, “right—you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best security.” And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-pun bill, and takes out one for fifty. “Here is half to-day; to-morrow you shall have the remainder.”
My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in my life. I cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure enough—a bank poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see the game.
“Recollect, from this day you are in my service.”