sititious attributes
bestowed upon them by the bigotry of their worshippers, appear, in
their true worth-lesaness, empty breath and perishable dross? But most
probably there was no cause for uneasiness; after all, I was very likely
worrying myself most unnecessarily: what proof was there that Lawless
really cared for Fanny? His attentions--oh! there was nothing in
that--Lawless was shy and awkward in female society, and Fanny had been
kind to him, and had taken the trouble to draw him out, therefore he
liked her, and preferred talking and laughing with her, rather than with
any other girl with whom he did not feel at his ease. However, even if
there should be anything more in it, it had not gone so far but that a
little judicious snubbing would easily put an end to it--I determined,
therefore, to talk to my mother about it after breakfast: she had now
seen enough of Lawless to form her own opinion of him; and if she agreed
with Oaklands and Mr. Frampton that his was not a style of character
calculated to secure Fanny's happiness, we must let her go and stay with
the Colemans, or find some other means of separating them. I had just
arrived at this conclusion, when, on passing round the stem of an old
tree which stood in the path, I encountered ~354~~ some person who was
advancing rapidly in an opposite direction, meeting him so abruptly that
we ran against each other with no small degree of violence.

"Hold hard there I you're on your wrong side, young fellow, and if
you've done me the slightest damage, even scratched my varnish, I'll
pull you up."

"I wish you had pulled up a little quicker yourself, Lawless," replied
I, for, as the reader has doubtless discovered from the style of his
address, it was none other than the subject of my late reverie with whom
I had come in collision. "I don't know whether I have scratched your
varnish, as you call it, but I have knocked the skin off my own knuckles
against the tree in the scrimmage."

"Never mind, man," returned Lawless, "there are worse misfortunes happen
at sea; a little sticking-plaster will set all to rights again. But look
here, Fairlegh," he continued, taking my arm, "I'm glad I happened to
meet you; I want to have five minutes' serious conversation with you."

"Won't it do after breakfast?" interposed I, for my fears construed
this appeal into "confirmation strong as holy writ" of my previous
suspicions, and I wished to be fortified by my mother's opinion before