"I perceive," said Morton, looking at his sword, "that you heard the
horsemen ride by; their passage delayed me for some minutes."

"I scarcely heeded them," said Balfour; "my hour is not yet come. That I
shall one day fall into their hands, and be honourably associated with
the saints whom they have slaughtered, I am full well aware. And I would,
young man, that the hour were come; it should be as welcome to me as ever
wedding to bridegroom. But if my Master has more work for me on earth, I
must not do his labour grudgingly."

"Eat and refresh yourself," said Morton; "tomorrow your safety requires
you should leave this place, in order to gain the hills, so soon as you
can see to distinguish the track through the morasses."

"Young man," returned Balfour, "you are already weary of me, and would be
yet more so, perchance, did you know the task upon which I have been
lately put. And I wonder not that it should be so, for there are times
when I am weary of myself. Think you not it is a sore trial for flesh and
blood, to be called upon to execute the righteous judgments of Heaven
while we are yet in the body, and continue to retain that blinded sense
and sympathy for carnal suffering, which makes our own flesh thrill when
we strike a gash upon the body of another? And think you, that when some
prime tyrant has been removed from his place, that the instruments of his
punishment can at all times look back on their share in his downfall with
firm and unshaken nerves? Must they not sometimes even question the truth
of that inspiration which they have felt and acted under? Must they not
sometimes doubt the origin of that strong impulse with which their
prayers for heavenly direction under difficulties have been inwardly
answered and confirmed, and confuse, in their disturbed apprehensions,