"Who's there?" cried Rachel. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me.
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