"Sir, you are a _bastard_"--repeated Gammon, bitterly, and extending his forefinger threateningly towards Titmouse. Then he added with sudden vehemence--"Wretched miscreant--do you presume to tell me I lie? You base-born cur!"--a lightning glance shot from his eye; but he restrained himself. Titmouse sat at length as if petrified, while Gammon, in a low tone, and with fearful bitterness of manner, proceeded--"_You_ the owner of Yatton? _You_ the next Lord Drelincourt? No more than the helper in your stables! One breath of mine blights you forever--as an impostor--a mere audacious swindler--to be spit upon! to be kicked out of society--perhaps to be transported for life. Gracious Heavens! what will the Earl of Dreddlington say when he hears that his sole daughter and heiress is married to a----It will kill _him_, or he will kill _you_!" "Two can play at that," whispered Titmouse, faintly--indeed almost inarticulately. There was nearly a minute's pause. "No--but _is_ it all true?--honor!" inquired Titmouse, in a very subdued voice. "As God is my witness!" replied Gammon. "Well," exclaimed Titmouse, after a prodigious sigh, "then at any rate, you're in for it with me; you said just now you'd done it all. Aha! I recollect, Mr. Gammon! I should no more have thought of it _myself_--Lord! than--what d'ye say to _that_, Mr. Gammon?" "Alas, sir! it will not avail you," replied Gammon, with a fearful smile; "for I never made the dreadful discovery of your illegitimacy till it was too late--till at least two months after I had put you (whom I believed the true heir) into possession of Yatton!" "Ah--I don't know--but--why didn't you tell Lord Dreddlington? Why did you let me marry Lady Cicely? By Jove, but it's _you_ he'll kill," quoth Titmouse, eagerly. "Yes!--Alas! I ought to have done so," replied Mr. Gammon, with a profound sigh--adding, abstractedly, "It may not be too late to make his Lordship _some_ amends. I may save his _title_ from degradation. Lord Drelincourt"---- "O Lord!" ejaculated Titmouse, involuntarily, and almost unconsciously, staring stupidly at Gammon, who continued with a renewed sigh--"Yes, I _ought_ to have told his Lordship--but I own--I was led away by feelings of pity--of affection for YOU--and, alas! is this the return?" He spoke this with a look and in a tone of sorrowful reproach. "Well, you shouldn't have come down on one so suddenly--all at once--how can a man--eh? Such _horrid_ news!" "It has cost me, sir, infinitely greater pain to tell you, than it has cost you to hear it!" "By the living Jove!" exclaimed Titmouse, starting up with a sort of recklessness, and pouring out and tossing off a second glassful of brandy--"it _can't_ be true--it's all a dream! I--I a'n't--I _can't_ be a bas---- perhaps _you're_ all this while the true heir, Mr. Gammon?" he added briskly, and snapped his fingers at his companion.