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 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 my
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