CHAPTER VI.
Yea, this man's brow, like to a tragic leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
Shakspeare.
Being at length rid of the housekeeper's presence, Morton made a collection of what he had reserved from the provisions set before him, and prepared to carry them to his concealed guest.

He did not think it necessary to take a light, being perfectly acquainted with every turn of the road; and it was lucky he did not do so, for he had hardly stepped beyond the threshold ere a heavy trampling of horses announced, that the body of cavalry, whose kettle-drums [Note: Regimental music is never played at night.

But who can assure us that such was not the custom in Charles the Second's time?
Till I am well informed on this point, the kettle-drums shall clash on, as adding something to the picturesque effect of the night march.] they had before heard, were in the act of passing along the high-road which winds round the foot of the bank on which the house of Milnwood was placed.

He heard the commanding officer distinctly give the word halt.

A pause of silence followed, interrupted only by the occasional neighing or pawing of an impatient charger.
"Whose house is this ?" said a voice, in a tone of authority and command.
"Milnwood, if it like your honour," was the reply.
"Is the owner well affected ?" said the enquirer.
"He complies with the orders of government, and frequents an indulged minister," was the response.
"Hum! ay! indulged?
a mere mask for treason, very impolitically allowed to those who are too great cowards to wear their principles barefaced .-- Had we not better send up a party and search the house, in case some of the bloody villains concerned in this heathenish butchery may be concealed in it ?" Ere Morton could recover from the alarm into which this proposal had thrown him, a third speaker rejoined, "I cannot think it at all necessary; Milnwood is an infirm, hypochondriac old man, who never meddles with politics, and loves his moneybags and bonds better than any thing else in the world.