‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. 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. That's how I finally got wind of it. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends.
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