“Only it’s not the same horse, my boy,” answered his father. “I believe he has been ill all day; the state of the other has prevented its being noticed. He was taken suddenly with violent pain; and now he lies groaning. They are doing what they can for him, but I fear, in this weather, he will not recover. Evidently he has severe inflammation; the symptoms are those of the worst form of the disease now about.” “Hustled here in the dark to die like a rat!” muttered his lordship. “Don’t make a trap of the old place, my lord,” said the laird cheerily. “The moment the roads will permit, I will see that you have horses.” “I don’t doubt you’ll be glad enough to get rid of me.” “We shall not regret your departure so much, my lord, as if we had been able to make your lordship comfortable,” said the laird. With that there came another great howling onset of wind. Lord Mergwain started almost to his feet, but sat down instantly, and said with some calmness, “I should be obliged, Mr. Warlock, if you would order a wine-glass or two for me. I am troublesome, I know, but I like to change my glass; and the wine will be the worse every moment more it stands there.--I wish you would drink! We should make a night of it.” “I beg your pardon, my lord,” said the laird. “What was I thinking of!--Cosmo, run and fetch wine-glasses--and the cock-screw.” But while Cosmo was returning, he heard the battery of iron shoes recommence, and ran to the stable. Just as he reached the door of it, the horse half reared, and cast himself against the side of his stall. With a great crash it gave way, and he fell upon it, and lay motionless. “He’s deid!” cried one of the men, and Cosmo ran to tell his father. While he was gone, the time seemed to the toper endless. But the longer he could be kept from his second magnum, the laird thought it the better, and was not troubled at Cosmo’s delay. A third terrible blast, fiercer and more imperious than those that preceded it, shook the windows as a dog shakes a rat: the house itself it could shake no more than a primeval rock. The next minute Cosmo entered, saying the horse was dead. “What a beastly country!” growled his lordship. But the wine that was presently gurgling from the short neck of the apoplectic magnum, soon began to console him. He liked this bottle better than the last, and some composure returned to him.