of breath) "but I am sure the man goes wrong, and, if you will not speak to him, I am determined I will get out myself."
"You amaze me," answered he, (still holding me) "I cannot imagine what you apprehend. Surely you can have no doubts of my honour?"
He drew me towards him as he spoke. I was dreadfully frightened, and could hardly say, "No, Sir, no,—none at all,—only Mrs. Mirvan,—I think she will be uneasy."
"Whence this alarm, my dearest angel?—What can you fear?—my life is at your devotion, and can you, then, doubt my protection?"
And so saying, he passionately kissed my hand.
Never, in my whole life, have I been so terrified. I broke forcibly from him, and, putting my head out of the window, called aloud to the man to stop. Where we then were I knew not, but I saw not a human being, or I should have called for help.
Sir Clement, with great earnestness, endeavoured to appease and compose me; "If you do not intend to murder me," cried I, "for mercy's, for pity's sake, let me get out!"
"Compose your spirits, my dearest life," cried he, "and I will do every thing youwould
