looked, for a clear, melodious voice, whose tones thrilled through my nerves, exclaimed—
"Oh, aunt! here's Mr. Markham—Arthur's friend!—Stop, Richard!"
There was such evidence of joyous though suppressed excitement in the utterance of those few words—especially that tremulous, "Oh, aunt—" that it threw me almost off my guard. The carriage shopped immediately, and I looked up and met the eye of a pale, grave, elderly lady surveying me from the open window. She bowed and so did I, and then she withdrew her head, while Arthur screamed to the footman to let him out; but before that functionary could descend from his box, a hand was silently put forth from the carriage window. I knew that hand, though a black glove concealed its delicate whiteness and half its fair proportions, and quickly seizing it, I pressed it in my own—ardently for a moment, but instantly recollecting myself, I dropped it, and it was immediately withdrawn.
