'
And with this concession, not caring to hear any more in the same vein, I
rose, intending to take my departure.
'No, that's jest it. I knew ye'd say it, Maud. Ye're a kind lass--ye
be--'tis in yer pretty face. I like ye awful, I do--there's not a handsomer
lass in Liverpool nor Lunnon itself--_no_ where.'
He had seized my hand, and trying to place his arm about my waist, essayed
that salute which I had so narrowly escaped on my first introduction.
'_Don't_, sir,' I exclaimed in high indignation, escaping at the same
moment from his grasp.
'No offence, lass; no harm, Maud; you must not be so shy--we're cousins,
you know--an' I wouldn't hurt ye, Maud, no more nor I'd knock my head off.
I wouldn't.'
I did not wait to hear the rest of his tender protestations, but, without
showing how nervous I was, I glided out of the room quietly, making
an orderly retreat, the more meritorious as I heard him call after me
persuasively--'Come back, Maud. What are ye afeard on, lass? Come back, I
say--do now; there's a good wench.'
As Milly and I were taking our walk that day, in the direction of the
Windmill Wood, to which, in consequence perhaps of some secret order, we
had now free access, we saw Beauty, for the first time since her illness,
in the little yard, throwing grain to the poultry.
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