it, I think, a pretty severe squeeze, for she shrank into herself with a faint cry of pain or terror; but the spirit within her was not subdued: instantly rallying, she continued, with well feigned concern—
"What can I do for you? Will you have some water—some brandy?—I dare say they have some in the public house down there, if you'll let me run."
"Have done with this nonsense!" cried I sternly. She looked confounded—almost frightened again, for a moment. "You know I hate such jests," I continued.
"Jests indeed! I wasn't jesting!"
"You were laughing, at all events; and I don't like to be laughed at," returned I, making violent efforts to speak with proper dignity and composure, and to say nothing but what was coherent and sensible. "And since you are in such a merry mood, Miss Eliza, you must be good enough company for yourself; and therefore I shall leave you to finish your walk
