"I think you had better," said Ravenswood, "otherwise I see little chance of their being attended to at all."
"Whisht, my lord,—whisht, for God's sake," said Caleb, in an imploring tone, and apart to his master; "if ye dinna regard your ain credit, think on mine; we'll hae hard eneugh wark to make a decent night o't, wi' a' the lies I can tell."
"Well, well, never mind," said his master; "go to the stable. There is hay and corn, I trust?"
"Ou ay, plenty of hay and corn;" this was uttered boldly and aloud, and, in a lower tone, "there was some half fous o' aits, and some taits o' meadow-hay, left after the burial."
"Very well," said Ravenswood, taking the lamp from his domestic's unwilling hand, "I will shew the stranger up stairs myself."
"I canna think o' that, my lord;—if ye wad but have rive minutes or ten minutes, or, at maist, a quarter of an hour's patience,
