I will be in the saddle by daybreak." "Do so, and deserve favour.

Stay--ere thou goest fill me a cup of wine--not out of that flask, sirrah," as Lambourne was pouring out from that which Alasco had left half finished, "fetch me a fresh one." Lambourne obeyed, and Varney, after rinsing his mouth with the liquor, drank a full cup, and said, as he took up a lamp to retreat to his sleeping apartment, "It is strange--I am as little the slave of fancy as any one, yet I never speak for a few minutes with this fellow Alasco, but my mouth and lungs feel as if soiled with the fumes of calcined arsenic--pah!" So saying, he left the apartment.

Lambourne lingered, to drink a cup of the freshly-opened flask.

"It is from Saint John's-Berg," he said, as he paused on the draught to enjoy its flavour, "and has the true relish of the violet.

But I must forbear it now, that I may one day drink it at my own pleasure." And he quaffed a goblet of water to quench the fumes of the Rhenish wine, retired slowly towards the door, made a pause, and then, finding the temptation irresistible, walked hastily back, and took another long pull at the wine flask, without the formality of a cup.
"Were it not for this accursed custom," he said, "I might climb as high as Varney himself.