“Hush, hush, Warham,” was the mild rebuke of the senior; “you go too far--you are irreverent. As for this maiden, I still think her very beautiful--of a high and noble kind of beauty. My eyes may be bad;--indeed I am willing to admit they are none of the best; but I feel certain that they cannot so far deceive me, when we consider how nigh we were to her.” “The matter deserves inquiry, uncle, if it were only to satisfy your faith;--suppose we ride back, both of us, and see for ourselves--closely, and with the aid of the green spectacles? Not that I care to see farther--not that I have any doubts--but I wish you to be convinced in this case, if only to make you sensible of the frequent injustice to which your indulgence of judgment, subjects the critical fastidiousness of mine. What say you; shall we wheel about?” “Why, you are mad, surely. It is now sunset, and we have a good eight miles before we get to Holme's Station.” “But we can sleep in Charlemont to-night. A night in this earthly Eden--” “And run the risk of losing our company? Oh, no, most worthy nephew. They will start at dawn to-morrow.” “We can soon come up with 'em.” “Perhaps not, and the risk is considerable. Travelling to the Mississippi is no such small matter at any time, and, in these times it is only with a multitude, that there is safety. The murder of old Whiteford, is a sufficient warning not to go alone with more gold than lead in one's pocket. We are two, it is true, but better ten than two. You are a brave fellow enough, Warham, I doubt not; but a shot will dispose of you, and after that I should be an easy victim. I could wink and hold out my iron as well as the best of you, but I prefer to escape the necessity. Let us mend our pace. We are burning daylight.”