‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. 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. This one too she read. I mean to have you! Don’t frown me off now. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women.
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