” “She has chances?” he said, helping her out. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Why not? Quite willing. 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. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. Take the one that struck him at this moment. He could scarcely blame her.
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