In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger——and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while; it then came into my head, that I should fall in love—I blush’d when I saw how white a hand she had—I shall never, an’ please your honour, behold another hand so white whilst I live——

The fair Beguine, said the corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under my knee—till I fear’d her zeal would weary her——“I would do a thousand times more,” said she, “for the love of Christ”——In saying which she pass’d her hand across the flannel, to the part above my knee, which I had equally complained of, and rubb’d it also.