Gammon perceived that he trembled in every limb; and the smile which he tried to throw into his face was so wretched, that, had you seen him at that moment, and considered his position, much and justly as you now despise him, you must have pitied him. "You're always now going on in this way!--It's all so very likely!" continued he. "Why, 'pon my soul, am not I to be A LORD one of these days? Can you help that? Can you send a lord behind a draper's counter? 'Pon my soul, what do you say to that? I like that, uncommon"---- "What do I say?" replied Gammon, calmly, "why, that I've a great mind to say and do something that would make you--would dispose you to--jump head foremost into the first sewer you came near!" Titmouse's heart was lying fluttering at his throat. "Tittlebat, Tittlebat!" continued Gammon, dropping his voice, and speaking in a very kind and earnest manner, "if you did but know the extent to which an accident has placed you in my power! at this moment in my power! Really I almost tremble, myself, to think of it!" He rose, brought his chamber-candlestick out of the hall--lit it--bade Titmouse good-night, sadly but sternly--and shook him by the hand--"I may rid you of my presence to-morrow morning, Mr. Titmouse. I shall leave you to _try to enjoy Yatton_! May you find a _truer_--a more powerful friend than you will have lost in me!" Titmouse never shrank more helplessly under the eye of Mr. Gammon than he did at that moment. "You--you--_won't_ stop and smoke another cigar with a poor devil, will you, Mr. Gammon?" he inquired faintly. "It's somehow--most uncommon lonely in this queer, large, old-fashioned"---- "No, sir," replied Gammon, peremptorily--and withdrew, leaving Titmouse in a state of mingled alarm and anger--the former, however, predominating. "By jingo!" he at length exclaimed with a heavy sigh, after a revery of about three minutes, gulping down the remainder of his brandy and water, "If that same gent, Mr. Gammon, a'n't the--the--devil--he's the very best imitation of him that ever I heard tell of!" Here he glanced furtively round the room; then he got a little flustered; rang his bell quickly for his valet, and, followed by him, retired to his dressing-room. The next morning the storm had entirely blown over. When they met at breakfast, Titmouse, as Gammon had known would be the case, was all submission and respect; in fact, it was evident that he was thoroughly frightened by what had fallen from Gammon, but infinitely more so by the _manner_ in which he had spoken over-night. Gammon, however, preserved for some little time the haughty air with which he had met Titmouse; but a few words of the latter, expressing deep regret for what he had said through having drunk too much--poor little soul!--over-night, and his unqualifyingly submitting to every one of the requisitions which had been insisted on by Mr. Gammon--quickly dispersed the cloud settled on that gentleman's brow, when he entered the breakfast-room.