come
from no other than Burley. It gave him new occasion to admire the indomitable
spirit of this man, who, with art equal to his courage and obstinacy, was even
now endeavouring to re-establish the web of conspiracy which had been so lately
torn to pieces. But he felt no sort of desire, in the present moment, to sustain
a correspondence which must be perilous, or to renew an association which in so
many ways had been nearly fatal to him. The threats which Burley held out
against the family of Bellenden, he considered as a mere expression of his
spleen on account of their defence of Tillie tudlem; and nothing seemed less
likely than that, at the very moment of their party being victorious, their
fugitive and distressed adversary could exercise the least influence over their
fortunes.
    Morton, however, hesitated for an instant, whether he should not send the
Major or Lord Evandale intimation of Burley's threats. Upon consideration, he
thought he could not do so without betraying his confidential correspondence;
for to warn them of his menaces would have served little purpose, unless he had
given them a clue to prevent them, by apprehending his person; while, by doing
so, he deemed he should commit an ungenerous breach of trust to remedy an evil
which seemed almost imaginary. Upon mature consideration, therefore, he tore the
letter, having first made a memorandum of the name and place where the writer
was to be heard of, and threw the fragments into the sea.
    While Morton was thus employed, the vessel was unmoored, and the white sails
swelled out before a favourable north-west wind. The ship leaned her side to the
gale, and went roaring through the waves, leaving a long and rippling furrow to
track her course. The city and port from which he had sailed became
undistinguishable in the distance; the hills by which they were surrounded
melted finally into the blue sky, and Morton was separated for several years
from the land of his nativity.
 

                              Chapter Thirty-Sixth

 Whom does time gallop withal?
 As you like it.
 
It is fortunate for tale-tellers that they are not tied down like theatrical
writers to the unities of time and place, but may conduct their personages to
Athens and Thebes at their pleasure, and bring them back at their convenience.
Time, to use Rosalind's simile, has hitherto paced with the hero of our tale;
for, betwixt Morton's first appearance as a competitor for the popinjay, and his
final departure for Holland, hardly two months elapsed. Years, however, glided
away ere we find it possible