" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. 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. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. She was given a glimpse of his soul.
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