e been,
to have affected my uncle in the way she did; he used to say, that as
her long dark hair trailed over his arm, and her beautiful dark eyes
fixed themselves upon his face when she recovered, he felt so strange
and nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. But who can look in
a sweet, soft pair of dark eyes, without feeling queer? I can't,
gentlemen. I am afraid to look at some eyes I know, and that's the truth
of it.

'"You will never leave me," murmured the young lady.

'"Never," said my uncle. And he meant it too.

'"My dear preserver!" exclaimed the young lady. "My dear, kind, brave
preserver!"

'"Don't," said my uncle, interrupting her.

'"'Why?" inquired the young lady.

'"Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak," rejoined my
uncle, "that I'm afraid I shall be rude enough to kiss it."

'The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle not to do so,
and said--No, she didn't say anything--she smiled. When you are looking
at a pair of the most delicious lips in the world, and see them gently
break into a roguish smile--if you are very near them, and nobody else
by--you cannot better testify your admiration of their beautiful form
and colour than by kissing them at once. My uncle did so, and I honour
him for it.

'"Hark!" cried the young lady, starting. "The noise of wheels, and
horses!"

'"So it is," said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear for wheels,
and the trampling of hoofs; but there appeared to be so many horses and
carriages rattling towards them, from a distance, that it was impossible
to form a guess at their number. 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.