“It was enough,” said Doctor Bond, dryly, taking snuff.  “It was a wedding.”

“Impossible!” declared Colonel Sheraton.

“Impossible?  Not in the least,” said the doctor.  “It can be invalid only upon one ground.  It might be urged that the marriage was not consummated.  But in the courts that would be a matter of proof.  Whatever our young friend here might say, a court would say that consummation was very probable.

“I say, as this stands, the contract is a definite one, agreeing to do a definite thing, namely, to enter into the state of marriage.  The question of the uncompleted signature does not invalidate it, nor indeed come into the matter at all.  It is only a question whether the signature, so far as it goes, means the identity of the Ellen Meriwether who wrote the clause preceding it.  It is a question of identification solely.  Nothing appears on this contract stipulating that she must sign her full name before the marriage can take place.  That verbal agreement, which Mr. Cowles mentions, of signing it letter by letter, does not in law affect a written agreement.  This written contract must, in the law, be construed just as It stands, and under its own phrasing, by its own inherent evidence.  The obvious and apparent evidence is that the person beginning this signature was Ellen Meriwether—­the same who wrote the last clause of the contract.  The handwriting is the same—­the supposition is that it is the same, and the burden of proof would lie on the one denying it.

“Gentlemen,” he went on, taking a turn, hands behind back, his big red kerchief hanging from his coat tails, “I take Mr. Cowles’ word as to acts before and after this contract.  I think he has shown to us that he is a gentleman.  In that world, very different from this world, he acted like a gentleman.  In that life he was for the time freed of the covenant of society.  Now, in this life, thrown again under the laws of society, he again shows to us that he is a gentleman, here as much as there.  We cannot reason from that world to this.  I say—­yes, I hope I am big enough man to say—­that we cannot blame him, arguing from that world to this.  We can exact of a man that he shall be a gentleman in either one of those worlds; but we cannot exact it of him to be the same gentleman in both!

“Now, the question comes, to which of these worlds belongs John Cowles?  The court will say that this bit of hide is a wedding ceremony.  Gentlemen,” he smiled grimly, “we need all the professions here to-day—­medicine, ministry and law!  At least, Colonel Sheraton, I think we need legal counsel before we go on with any more weddings for this young man here.”

“But there is no record of this,” I said.  “There is no execution in duplicate.”

“No,” said the doctor.  “It is only a question of which world you elect.”  I looked at him, and he added, “It is also only a question of morals.  If this record here should be destroyed, you would leave the other party with no proof on her side of the case.”