He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. " "For you!" exclaimed Jonathan; "don't flatter yourself that I'm thinking of you. 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. ‘And me, I am a lady. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally.
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