The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

OLD MOORTALITY. 991
rades had parted in displeasure, never, as it happened, to meet again.
These circumstances the deceased Colonel Morton had often mentioned to
his son, and always with an expression of deep regret that he had never
in any manner been enabled to repay the assistance which on more than
one occasion he had received from Burley.
To hasten Morton's decision, the night-wind, as it swept along, brought
from a distance the sullen sound of a kettle-drum, which, seeming to approach nearer, intimated that a body of horse were upon their march towards them.
"It must be Claverhouse, with the rest of his regiment. What can have
occasioned this night-march? If you go on, you fall into their hands - if
you turn back towards the borough-tdwn, you are in no less danger from
Cornet Grahame's party —the path to the hill is beset. I must shelter you
at MIilnwood, or expose you to instant death;-but the punishment of the
law shall fall upon myself, as in justice it should, not upon my uncle.Follow me."
Burley, who had awaited his resolution with great composure, now followed him in silence.
The house of Milnwood, built by the father of the present proprietor, was
a decent mansion, suitable to the size of the estate, but, since the accession
of this owner, it had been suffered to go considerably into disrepair. At
some little distance from the house stood the court of offices. Here Morton
paused.
"I must leave you here for a little while," he whispered, "until I can
provide a bed for you in the house."
" I care little for such a delicacy," said Burley; " for thirty years this
head has rested oftener on the turf, or on the next grey stone, than upon
either wool or down. A draught of ale, a morsel of bread, to say ay
prayers, and to stretch me upon dry hay, were to me as good as a painted
chamber and a prince's table."
It occurred to Morton at the same moment, that to attempt to introduce
the fugitive within the house, would materially increase the danger of detection. Accordingly, having struck a light with implements left in the
stable for that purpose, and having fastened up their horses, he assigned
Burley, for his place of repose; a wooden bed, placed in a loft half-full of
hay, which an out-of-door domestic had occupied, until dismissed by his
uncle in one of those fits of parsimony which became more rigid from day
to day. In this untenanted loft Morton left his companion, with a caution
so to shade his light that no reflection might be seen from the window, and
a promise that he would presently return with such refreshments as he
might be able to procure at that late hour. This last, indeed, was a subject on which he felt by no means confident, for the power of obtaining
even the most ordinary provisions depended entirely upon the humour in
which he might happen to find his uncle's sole confidant, the old houseeeper. If she chanced to be a-bed, which was very likely, or out of humour, which was not less so, Morton well knew the case to be at least
problematical.
Cursing in his heart the sordid parsimony which pervaded every part of
his uncle's establishment, he gave the usual gentle knock at the bolted door
by which he was accustomed to seek admittance when accident had detained
him abroad beyond the early and established hours of rest at the house of
Milnwood. It was a sort of hesitating tap, which carried an acknowledgment of transgression in its very sound, and seemed rather to solicit than
command attention. After it had been repeated again and again, the housekeeper, grumbling betwixt her teeth as she rose from the chimney corner
in the hall, and wrapping her checked handkerchief round her head to
secure her from the cold air, paced across the stone-passage, and repeated