Morton readily complied, and they walked for some time in silence under the shade of some fine old trees, pursuing a sort of natural path, which, after passing through woodland for about half a mile, led into the bare and wild country which extends to the foot of the hills.
There was little conversation between them, until at length Burley suddenly asked Morton, "Whether the words he had spoken over-night had borne fruit in his mind ?" Morton answered, "That he remained of the same opinion which he had formerly held, and was determined, at least as far and as long as possible, to unite the duties of a good Christian with those of a peaceful subject." "In other words," replied Burley, "you are desirous to serve both God and Mammon--to be one day professing the truth with your lips, and the next day in arms, at the command of carnal and tyrannic authority, to shed the blood of those who for the truth have forsaken all things?
Think ye," he continued, "to touch pitch and remain undefiled?
to mix in the ranks of malignants, papists, papa-prelatists, latitudinarians, and scoffers; to partake of their sports, which are like the meat offered unto idols; to hold intercourse, perchance, with their daughters, as the sons of God with the daughters of men in the world before the flood--Think you, I say, to do all these things, and yet remain free from pollution?
I say unto you, that all communication with the enemies of the Church is the accursed thing which God hateth! Touch not--taste not--handle not! And grieve not, young man, as if you alone were called upon to subdue your carnal affections, and renounce the pleasures which are a snare to your feet--I say to you, that the Son of David hath denounced no better lot on the whole generation of mankind." He then mounted his horse, and, turning to Morton, repeated the text of Scripture, "An heavy yoke was ordained for the sons of Adam from the day they go out of their mother's womb, till the day that they return to the mother of all things; from him who is clothed in blue silk and weareth a crown, even to him who weareth simple linen,--wrath, envy, trouble, and unquietness, rigour, strife, and fear of death in the time of rest." Having uttered these words he set his horse in motion, and soon disappeared among the boughs of the forest.
"Farewell, stern enthusiast," said Morton, looking after him; "in some moods of my mind, how dangerous would be the society of such a companion! If I am unmoved by his zeal for abstract doctrines of faith, or rather for a peculiar mode of worship, (such was the purport of his reflections,) can I be a man, and a Scotchman, and look with indifference on that persecution which has made wise men mad?
Was not the cause of freedom, civil and religious, that for which my father fought; and shall I do well to remain inactive, or to take the part of an oppressive government, if there should appear any rational prospect of redressing the insufferable wrongs to which my miserable countrymen are subjected ?-- And yet, who shall warrant me that these people, rendered wild by persecution, would not, in the hour of victory, be as cruel and as intolerant as those by whom they are now hunted down?
What degree of moderation, or of mercy, can be expected from this Burley, so distinguished as one of their principal champions, and who seems even now to be reeking from some recent deed of violence, and to feel stings of remorse, which even his enthusiasm cannot altogether stifle?
I am weary of seeing nothing but violence and fury around me--now assuming the mask of lawful authority, now taking that of religious zeal.

I am sick of my country--of myself--of my dependent situation--of my repressed feelings--of these woods--of that river--of that house--of all but--Edith, and she can never be mine! Why should I haunt her walks ?--Why encourage my own delusion, and perhaps hers ?--She can never be mine.

Her grandmother's pride--the opposite principles of our families--my wretched state of dependence--a poor miserable slave, for I have not even the wages of a servant--all circumstances give the lie to the vain hope that we can ever be united.

Why then protract a delusion so painful?
"But I am no slave," he said aloud, and drawing himself up to his full stature--"no slave, in one respect, surely.

I can change my abode--my father's sword is mine, and Europe lies open before me, as before him and hundreds besides of my countrymen, who have filled it with the fame of their exploits.