She feared nothing from me," added she, in a low soliloquy; "an' could I let her outdo mo in generosity and kindness.

Is this fire?
Is there fire in the coach ?" she asked, in a loud voice; "or is it lighthnin'?
Oh, my head, my head; but it will soon be over." "Compose yourself, I entreat of you, my dearest girl.

What! good Heavens, how is this?
You have not been ill for any time?
Your hand--pardon me; you need not withdraw it so hastily--is quite burning and fleshless.

What is wrong ?" "Everything, sir, is wrong, unless that I am here, an' that is as it ought to be.

Ha, ha!" "Good, my dearest girl--that consoles me again.