fect."

"Well, that's cool," muttered Lawless; "he'll put me in a passion
directly;--pray, sir, may I ask how on earth you come to know anything
about her mouth?"

"How do I know anything about her mouth?" exclaimed I. "Did I not watch
with delight its ever-varying expression?--mark each movement of those
beautiful lips, and drink in every syllable that fell from them?--not
observe her mouth! Think you, when we have been conversing together for
the last quarter of an hour, that I could fail to do so?"

~155~~"Oh he's gone stark staring mad!" exclaimed Lawless;
"strait-waistcoats, Bedlam, and all that sort o' thing, you
know;--conversing with my bay mare for the last quarter of an hour, and
drinking in every syllable that fell from her beautiful lips--oh, he's
raving!"

"What do you mean?" said I, at length awaking to some consciousness of
sublunary affairs--"Your mare!--who ever thought of your mare? it's Miss
Saville I'm talking about."

"Miss Saville!" repeated Lawless, giving vent to a long whistle,
expressive of incredulity; "why, you don't mean to say you've been
talking to Miss Saville all this time, do you?"

"To be sure I have," replied I; "and a very interesting and agreeable
conversation it was too."

"Well," exclaimed Lawless, after a short pause; "all the luck in this
matter seem's to fall to your share; so the sooner I get out of it the
better. It won't break my heart, that's one comfort;--if the young woman
has the bad taste to prefer you to me, why, it can't be helped, you
know;--but what did she say for herself, eh?"

"She sent you her forgiveness for one thing," replied I; and I then
proceeded to relate such particulars of the interview as I considered
expedient; which recital, and our remarks thereupon, furnished
conversation during the remainder of our drive.

CHAPTER XIX -- TURNING THE TABLES

"'You should also make no noise in the streets.'

"'You may stay him.'

"'Nay, by're lady, that I think he cannot.'

"'Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the
statutes, he may stay him. His wits are not so blunt as, God help, I
would desire they were. It is an offence to stay a man _against
his will_. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect
my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! but,
masters, remember that I am an ass: though it be not written
down, yet forget not that I am an ass."
--_Muc