"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. The lad looked alarmed. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. 1. Perhaps I am still mad. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. It is not for myself I fear. Look here. Say I will come to him. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them.
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