pursuing his course, heedless of the petty annoyances he encountered,
although his feet were frequently entangled among the stunts and stubs
that opposed his progress, with the air of one whose mind was evidently
bent on the fulfilment of some hazardous but important purpose. It was
so early that not a shepherd had unpenned his fold, nor a girl gone
forth to the milking: such cattle as remained at liberty during the
night, still slumbered on the sward; and the wily fox roamed with less
caution than was his wont, under the knowledge that no enemy was by to
watch his progress.

"I may reach Gull's Nest, and return," thought Burrell, "and that before
any in the house are astir." But, at the moment, a tall, lank figure,
moving with measured pace, yet nevertheless approaching rapidly, from
the very point towards which his steps were bent, arrested his
attention; and as it came nearer and nearer, he was much disconcerted at
the discovery that no other than the Reverend Jonas Fleetword, from whom
he anticipated a sharp rebuke for his absence from Lady Cecil's funeral,
was about to cross his path. He would have gladly hailed the approach of
Birnam wood, so it could have settled down between him and the reverend
Jonas; but as no place of refuge was at hand, he bethought himself of
the shield of patience, drew his cloak as closely as if he were about to
encounter a fierce north wind, and finally returned with much courtesy
the salutation of the preacher, whose apt and ready eloquence had
obtained for him the significant appellation of Fleetword. The locks of
the divine, according to the approved fashion, had been cropped closely
round his head, and his thin sharp visage looked of most vinegar-like
tinge and character, peering, as it now did, from beneath a
steeple-crowned hat of formal cut. He wore a black cloth cloak and
doublet, his Flemish breeches and hose were of the same sombre hue, and
his square-toed shoes were surmounted by large crape roses. Contrary,
as it would seem, to the custom of a disciple of the peace-loving
Saviour, he also wore a basket-handled sword, girded round his loins by
a broad strap of black leather. In truth, face, figure, and all
included, he was as harsh and ill-favoured a person as could have been
encountered even at that day,--one whose lips would have seemed to taint
the blessing to which he might have given utterance; and graceless as
Burrell undoubtedly was, there was excuse for the impatience