‘You must have been an exceedingly good pupil. He sent me flowers. His voice now had lost its ironies. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. " At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow.
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