The sound
was like that of fifty brakes, with six blood cattle in each.
'"We are pursued!" cried the young lady, clasping her hands.
"We are pursued. I have no hope but in you!"
'There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face,
that my uncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into the
coach, told her not to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers once
more, and then advising her to draw up the window to keep the
cold air out, mounted to the box.
'"Stay, love," cried the young lady.
'"What's the matter?" said my uncle, from the coach-box.
'"I want to speak to you," said the young lady; "only a word.
Only one word, dearest."
'"Must I get down?" inquired my uncle. The lady made no
answer, but she smiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen! It beat
the other one, all to nothing. My uncle descended from his perch
in a twinkling.
'"What is it, my dear?" said my uncle, looking in at the coach
window. The lady happened to bend forward at the same time,
and my uncle thought she looked more beautiful than she had
done yet. He was very close to her just then, gentlemen, so he
really ought to know.
'"What is it, my dear?" said my uncle.
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