You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. “It is not that. That’s— that’s my private life. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. “You underestimate your own sickness, and the ill humors that struck you may strike again. 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.
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