"Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. 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. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now.
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