Dominie.—Stay, sir, I’ll run to the kitchen for them myself. Preserve me! the less time we keep Mr. Clifford’s poor lassie in such misery¹ the better.

 

Mr. Macpherson soon returned with the new lights, set them down on the table, and drawing in his chair, put his elbows upon his knees, placed his cheeks firmly in the palms of his hands, and sat with his eyes eagerly fixed² upon Clifford’s countenance³, with the most ludicrous expression of earnestness. Clifford resumed as follows.

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