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Waverley, Or 'Tis Sixty Years Hence, Complete by Sir Walter Scott

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impossible they can ever succeed; and should they miscarry, what then?
why then alors comme alors.' And with this resolution of being guided by
circumstances did our hero commit himself to repose.



If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero's levity in love is
altogether unpardonable, I must remind them that all his griefs and
difficulties did not arise from that sentimental source. Even the lyric
poet who complains so feelingly of the pains of love could not forget,
that at the same time he was 'in debt and in drink,' which, doubtless,
were great aggravations of his distress. There were, indeed, whole days
in which Waverley thought neither of Flora nor Rose Bradwardine, but
which were spent in melancholy conjectures on the probable state of
matters at Waverley-Honour, and the dubious issue of the civil contest in
which he was pledged. Colonel Talbot often engaged him in discussions
upon the justice of the cause he had espoused. 'Not,' he said, 'that it
is possible for you to quit it at this present moment, for, come what
will, you must stand by your rash engagement. But I wish you to be aware
that the right is not with you; that you are fighting against the real
interests of your country; and that you ought, as an Englishman and a
patriot, to take the first opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition
before the snowball melts.'

In such political disputes Waverley usually opposed the common arguments
of his party, with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader. But he
had little to say when the Colonel urged him to compare the strength by
which they had undertaken to overthrow the government with that which was
now assembling very rapidly for its support. To this statement Waverley
had but one answer: 'If the cause I have undertaken be perilous, there
would be the greater disgrace in abandoning it.' And in his turn he
generally silenced Colonel Talbot, and succeeded in changing the subject.

One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends had
separated and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened about midnight
by a suppressed groan. He started up and listened; it came from the
apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided from his own by a
wainscotted partition, with a door of communication. Waverley approached
this door and distinctly heard one or two deep-drawn sighs. What could be
the matter? The Colonel had parted from him apparently in his usual state
of spirits. He must have been taken suddenly ill. Under this impression
he opened the door of communication very gently, and perceived the
Colonel, in his night-gown, seated by a table, on which lay a letter and
a picture. He raised his head hastily, as Edward stood uncertain whether
to advance or retire, and Waverley perceived that his cheeks were stained
with tears.

As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, Colonel Talbot
rose with apparent displeasure and said, with some sternness, 'I think,
Mr. Waverley, my own apartment and the hour might have secured even a
prisoner against--'

'Do not say INTRUSION, Colonel Talbot; I heard you breathe hard and
feared you were ill; that alone could have induced me to break in upon

'I am well,' said the Colonel, 'perfectly well.'

'But you are distressed,' said Edward; 'is there anything can be done?'

'Nothing, Mr. Waverley; I was only thinking of home, and some unpleasant
occurrences there.'

'Good God, my uncle!' exclaimed Waverley.

'No, it is a grief entirely my own. I am ashamed you should have seen it
disarm me so much; but it must have its course at times, that it may be
at others more decently supported. I would have kept it secret from you;
for I think it will grieve you, and yet you can administer no
consolation. But you have surprised me,--I see you are surprised
yourself,--and I hate mystery. Read that letter.'

The letter was from Colonel Talbot's sister, and in these words:--

'I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges. Sir E. W. and Mr. R.
are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London. I wish to
Heaven I could give you as good an account of matters in the square. But
the news of the unhappy affair at Preston came upon us, with the dreadful
addition that you were among the fallen. You know Lady Emily's state of
health, when your friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave her. She was
much harassed with the sad accounts from Scotland of the rebellion having
broken out; but kept up her spirits, as, she said, it became your wife,
and for the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in vain. Alas, my
dear brother, these hopes are now ended! Notwithstanding all my watchful
care, this unhappy rumour reached her without preparation. She was taken
ill immediately; and the poor infant scarce survived its birth. Would to
God this were all! But although the contradiction of the horrible report
by your own letter has greatly revived her spirits, yet Dr.
----apprehends, I grieve to say, serious, and even dangerous,
consequences to her health, especially from the uncertainty in which she
must necessarily remain for some time, aggravated by the ideas she has
formed of the ferocity of those with whom you are a prisoner.

'Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you, endeavour to
gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way that is practicable.
I do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of health; but I must not--dare
not--suppress the truth. Ever, my dear Philip, your most affectionate

'Lucy TALBOT.'

Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter; for the
conclusion was inevitable, that, by the Colonel's journey in quest of
him, he had incurred this heavy calamity. It was severe enough, even in
its irremediable part; for Colonel Talbot and Lady Emily, long without a
family, had fondly exulted in the hopes which were now blasted. But this
disappointment was nothing to the extent of the threatened evil; and
Edward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both.

Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak, Colonel Talbot had
recovered his usual composure of manner, though his troubled eye denoted
his mental agony.

'She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a soldier's
tears.' He reached him the miniature, exhibiting features which fully
justified the eulogium; 'and yet, God knows, what you see of her there is
the least of the charms she possesses--possessed, I should perhaps
say--but God's will be done.'

' You must fly--you must fly instantly to her relief. It is not--it shall
not be too late.'

'Fly? how is it possible? I am a prisoner, upon parole.'

'I am your keeper; I restore your parole; I am to answer for you.'

'You cannot do so consistently with your duty; nor can I accept a
discharge from you, with due regard to my own honour; you would be made

'I will answer it with my head, if necessary,' said Waverley impetuously.
'I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your child, make me not the
murderer of your wife.'

'No, my dear Edward,' said Talbot, taking him kindly by the hand, 'you
are in no respect to blame; and if I concealed this domestic distress for
two days, it was lest your sensibility should view it in that light. You
could not think of me, hardly knew of my existence, when I left England
in quest of you. It is a responsibility, Heaven knows, sufficiently heavy
for mortality, that we must answer for the foreseen and direct result of
our actions; for their indirect and consequential operation the great and
good Being, who alone can foresee the dependence of human events on each
other, hath not pronounced his frail creatures liable.'

'But that you should have left Lady Emily,' said Waverley, with much
emotion, 'in the situation of all others the most interesting to a
husband, to seek a--'

'I only did my duty,' answered Colonel Talbot, calmly, 'and I do not,
ought not, to regret it. If the path of gratitude and honour were always
smooth and easy, there would be little merit in following it; but it
moves often in contradiction to our interest and passions, and sometimes
to our better affections. These are the trials of life, and this, though
not the least bitter' (the tears came unbidden to his eyes), 'is not the
first which it has been my fate to encounter. But we will talk of this
to-morrow,' he said, wringing Waverley's hands. 'Good-night; strive to
forget it for a few hours. It will dawn, I think, by six, and it is now
past two. Good-night.'

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply.



When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlour next morning, he
learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had been abroad at an early
hour and was not yet returned. The morning was well advanced before he
again appeared. He arrived out of breath, but with an air of joy that
astonished Colonel Talbot.

'There,' said he, throwing a paper on the table, 'there is my morning's
work. Alick, pack up the Colonel's clothes. Make haste, make haste.'

The Colonel examined the paper with astonishment. It was a pass from the
Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to Leith, or any other port in
possession of his Royal Highness's troops, and there to embark for
England or elsewhere, at his free pleasure; he only giving his parole of
honour not to bear arms against the house of Stuart for the space of a

'In the name of God,' said the Colonel, his eyes sparkling with
eagerness, 'how did you obtain this?'

'I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he usually rises. He was gone
to the camp at Duddingston. I pursued him thither, asked and obtained an
audience--but I will tell you not a word more, unless I see you begin to

'Before I know whether I can avail myself of this passport, or how it was

'O, you can take out the things again, you know. Now I see you busy, I
will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his eyes sparkled almost as
bright as yours did two minutes since. "Had you," he earnestly asked,
"shown any sentiments favourable to his cause?" "Not in the least, nor
was there any hope you would do so." His countenance fell. I requested
your freedom. "Impossible," he said; "your importance as a friend and
confidant of such and such personages made my request altogether
extravagant." I told him my own story and yours; and asked him to judge
what my feelings must be by his own. He has a heart, and a kind one,
Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He took a sheet of paper and
wrote the pass with his own hand. "I will not trust myself with my
council," he said; "they will argue me out of what is right. I will not
endure that a friend, valued as I value you, should be loaded with the
painful reflections which must afflict you in case of further misfortune
in Colonel Talbot's family; nor will I keep a brave enemy a prisoner
under such circumstances. Besides," said he, "I think I can justify
myself to my prudent advisers by pleading the good effect such lenity
will produce on the minds of the great English families with whom Colonel
Talbot is connected."'

'There the politician peeped out,' said the Colonel.

'Well, at least he concluded like a king's son: "Take the passport; I
have added a condition for form's sake; but if the Colonel objects to it,
let him depart without giving any parole whatever. I come here to war
with men, but not to distress or endanger women."'

'Well, I never thought to have been so much indebted to the Pretend--'

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

'To the Chevalier,' said the Colonel; 'it is a good travelling name, and
which we may both freely use. Did he say anything more?'

'Only asked if there was anything else he could oblige me in; and when I
replied in the negative, he shook me by the hand, and wished all his
followers were as considerate, since some friends of mine not only asked
all he had to bestow, but many things which were entirely out of his
power, or that of the greatest sovereign upon earth. Indeed, he said, no
prince seemed, in the eyes of his followers, so like the Deity as
himself, if you were to judge from the extravagant requests which they
daily preferred to him.'

'Poor young gentleman,' said the Colonel, 'I suppose he begins to feel
the difficulties of his situation. Well, dear Waverley, this is more than
kind, and shall not be forgotten while Philip Talbot can remember
anything. My life--pshaw--let Emily thank you for that; this is a favour
worth fifty lives. I cannot hesitate on giving my parole in the
circumstances; there it is (he wrote it out in form). And now, how am I
to get off?'

'All that is settled: your baggage is packed, my horses wait, and a boat
has been engaged, by the Prince's permission, to put you on board the Fox
frigate. I sent a messenger down to Leith on purpose.'

'That will do excellently well. Captain Beaver is my particular friend;
he will put me ashore at Berwick or Shields, from whence I can ride post
to London; and you must entrust me with the packet of papers which you
recovered by means of your Miss Bean Lean. I may have an opportunity of
using them to your advantage. But I see your Highland friend, Glen ----
what do you call his barbarous name? and his orderly with him; I must not
call him his orderly cut-throat any more, I suppose. See how he walks as
if the world were his own, with the bonnet on one side of his head and
his plaid puffed out across his breast! I should like now to meet that
youth where my hands were not tied: I would tame his pride, or he should
tame mine.'

'For shame, Colonel Talbot! you swell at sight of tartan as the bull is
said to do at scarlet. You and Mac-Ivor have some points not much unlike,
so far as national prejudice is concerned.'

The latter part of this discourse took place in the street. They passed
the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and punctiliously greeting each
other, like two duellists before they take their ground. It was evident
the dislike was mutual. 'I never see that surly fellow that dogs his
heels,' said the Colonel, after he had mounted his horse, 'but he reminds
me of lines I have somewhere heard--upon the stage, I think:--

Close behind him
Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend,
Pressing to be employed.

'I assure you, Colonel,' said Waverley, 'that you judge too harshly of the

'Not a whit, not a whit; I cannot spare them a jot; I cannot bate them an
ace. Let them stay in their own barren mountains, and puff and swell, and
hang their bonnets on the horns of the moon, if they have a mind; but
what business have they to come where people wear breeches, and speak an
intelligible language? I mean intelligible in comparison to their
gibberish, for even the Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better
than the Negroes in Jamaica. I could pity the Pr----, I mean the,
Chevalier himself, for having so many desperadoes about him. And they
learn their trade so early. There is a kind of subaltern imp, for
example, a sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glena----Glenamuck
there, has sometimes in his train. To look at him, he is about fifteen
years; but he is a century old in mischief and villainy. He was playing
at quoits the other day in the court; a gentleman, a decent-looking
person enough, came past, and as a quoit hit his shin, he lifted his
cane; but my young bravo whips out his pistol, like Beau Clincher in the
"Trip to the Jubilee," and had not a scream of Gardez l'eau from an upper
window set all parties a-scampering for fear of the inevitable
consequences, the poor gentleman would have lost his life by the hands of
that little cockatrice.'

'A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return, Colonel

'O, Justice Shallow,' said the Colonel, 'will save me the
trouble--"Barren, barren, beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good
air,"--and that only when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and not yet
come to Leith, as is our case at present.'

In a short time they arrived at the seaport.

The boat rock'd at the pier of Leith, Full loud the wind blew down the
ferry; The ship rode at the Berwick Law.

'Farewell, Colonel; may you find all as you would wish it! Perhaps we may
meet sooner than you expect; they talk of an immediate route to England.'

'Tell me nothing of that,' said Talbot; 'I wish to carry no news of your

'Simply, then, adieu. Say, with a thousand kind greetings, all that is
dutiful and affectionate to Sir Everard and Aunt Rachel. Think of me as
kindly as you can, speak of me as indulgently as your conscience will
permit, and once more adieu.'

'And adieu, my dear Waverley; many, many thanks for your kindness.
Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity. I shall ever think on you with
gratitude, and the worst of my censure shall be, Que diable alloit--il
faire dans cette galere?'

And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board of the boat and
Waverley returning to Edinburgh.



It is not our purpose to intrude upon the province of history. We shall
therefore only remind our readers that about the beginning of November
the Young Chevalier, at the head of about six thousand men at the utmost,
resolved to peril his cause on an attempt to penetrate into the centre of
England, although aware of the mighty preparations which were made for
his reception. They set forward on this crusade in weather which would
have rendered any other troops incapable of marching, but which in
reality gave these active mountaineers advantages over a less hardy
enemy. In defiance of a superior army lying upon the Borders, under
Field-Marshal Wade, they besieged and took Carlisle, and soon afterwards
prosecuted their daring march to the southward.

As Colonel Mac-Ivor's regiment marched in the van of the clans, he and
Waverley, who now equalled any Highlander in the endurance of fatigue,
and was become somewhat acquainted with their language, were perpetually
at its head. They marked the progress of the army, however, with very
different eyes. Fergus, all air and fire, and confident against the world
in arms, measured nothing but that every step was a yard nearer London.
He neither asked, expected, nor desired any aid except that of the clans
to place the Stuarts once more on the throne; and when by chance a few
adherents joined the standard, he always considered them in the light of
new claimants upon the favours of the future monarch, who, he concluded,
must therefore subtract for their gratification so much of the bounty
which ought to be shared among his Highland followers.

Edward's views were very different. He could not but observe that in
those towns in which they proclaimed James the Third, 'no man cried, God
bless him.' The mob stared and listened, heartless, stupefied, and dull,
but gave few signs even of that boisterous spirit which induces them to
shout upon all occasions for the mere exercise of their most sweet
voices. The Jacobites had been taught to believe that the north-western
counties abounded with wealthy squires and hardy yeomen, devoted to the
cause of the White Rose. But of the wealthier Tories they saw little.
Some fled from their houses, some feigned themselves sick, some
surrendered themselves to the government as suspected persons. Of such as
remained, the ignorant gazed with astonishment, mixed with horror and
aversion, at the wild appearance, unknown language, and singular garb of
the Scottish clans. And to the more prudent their scanty numbers,
apparent deficiency in discipline, and poverty of equipment seemed
certain tokens of the calamitous termination of their rash undertaking.
Thus the few who joined them were such as bigotry of political principle
blinded to consequences, or whose broken fortunes induced them to hazard
all on a risk so desperate.

The Baron of Bradwardine, being asked what he thought of these recruits,
took a long pinch of snuff, and answered drily,'that he could not but
have an excellent opinion of them, since they resembled precisely the
followers who attached themselves to the good King David at the cave of
Adullam--videlicet, every one that was in distress, and every one that
was in debt, and every one that was discontented, which the vulgate
renders bitter of soul; and doubtless,' he said, 'they will prove mighty
men of their hands, and there is much need that they should, for I have
seen many a sour look cast upon us.'

But none of these considerations moved Fergus. He admired the luxuriant
beauty of the country, and the situation of many of the seats which they
passed. 'Is Waverley-Honour like that house, Edward?'

'It is one-half larger.'

'Is your uncle's park as fine a one as that?'

'It is three times as extensive, and rather resembles a forest than a
mere park.'

'Flora will be a happy woman.'

'I hope Miss Mac-Ivor will have much reason for happiness unconnected
with Waverley-Honour.'

'I hope so too; but to be mistress of such a place will be a pretty
addition to the sum total.'

'An addition, the want of which, I trust, will be amply supplied by some
other means.'

'How,' said Fergus, stopping short and turning upon Waverley--'how am I
to understand that, Mr. Waverley? Had I the pleasure to hear you aright?'

'Perfectly right, Fergus.'

'And am I to understand that you no longer desire my alliance and my
sister's hand?'

'Your sister has refused mine,' said Waverley, 'both directly and by all
the usual means by which ladies repress undesired attentions.'

'I have no idea,' answered the Chieftain, 'of a lady dismissing or a
gentleman withdrawing his suit, after it has been approved of by her
legal guardian, without giving him an opportunity of talking the matter
over with the lady. You did not, I suppose, expect my sister to drop into
your mouth like a ripe plum the first moment you chose to open it?'

'As to the lady's title to dismiss her lover, Colonel,' replied Edward,
'it is a point which you must argue with her, as I am ignorant of the
customs of the Highlands in that particular. But as to my title to
acquiesce in a rejection from her without an appeal to your interest, I
will tell you plainly, without meaning to undervalue Miss Mac-Ivor's
admitted beauty and accomplishments, that I would not take the hand of an
angel, with an empire for her dowry, if her consent were extorted by the
importunity of friends and guardians, and did not flow from her own free

'An angel, with the dowry of an empire,' repeated Fergus, in a tone of
bitter irony, 'is not very likely to be pressed upon a ----shire squire.
But, sir,' changing his tone, 'if Flora Mac-Ivor have not the dowry of an
empire, she is MY sister; and that is sufficient at least to secure her
against being treated with anything approaching to levity.'

'She is Flora Mac-Ivor, sir,' said Waverley, with firmness, 'which to me,
were I capable of treating ANY woman with levity, would be a more
effectual protection.'

The brow of the Chieftain was now fully clouded; but Edward felt too
indignant at the unreasonable tone which he had adopted to avert the
storm by the least concession. They both stood still while this short
dialogue passed, and Fergus seemed half disposed to say something more
violent, but, by a strong effort, suppressed his passion, and, turning
his face forward, walked sullenly on. As they had always hitherto walked
together, and almost constantly side by side, Waverley pursued his course
silently in the same direction, determined to let the Chief take his own
time in recovering the good-humour which he had so unreasonably
discarded, and firm in his resolution not to bate him an inch of dignity.

After they had marched on in this sullen manner about a mile, Fergus
resumed the discourse in a different tone. 'I believe I was warm, my dear
Edward, but you provoke me with your want of knowledge of the world. You
have taken pet at some of Flora's prudery, or high-flying notions of
loyalty, and now, like a child, you quarrel with the plaything you have
been crying for, and beat me, your faithful keeper, because my arm cannot
reach to Edinburgh to hand it to you. I am sure, if I was passionate, the
mortification of losing the alliance of such a friend, after your
arrangement had been the talk of both Highlands and Lowlands, and that
without so much as knowing why or wherefore, might well provoke calmer
blood than mine. I shall write to Edinburgh and put all to rights; that
is, if you desire I should do so; as indeed I cannot suppose that your
good opinion of Flora, it being such as you have often expressed to me,
can be at once laid aside.'

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Edward, who had no mind to be hurried farther or
faster than he chose in a matter which he had already considered as
broken off, 'I am fully sensible of the value of your good offices; and
certainly, by your zeal on my behalf in such an affair, you do me no
small honour. But as Miss Mac-Ivor has made her election freely and
voluntarily, and as all my attentions in Edinburgh were received with
more than coldness, I cannot, in justice either to her or myself, consent
that she should again be harassed upon this topic. I would have mentioned
this to you some time since, but you saw the footing upon which we stood
together, and must have understood it. Had I thought otherwise I would
have earlier spoken; but I had a natural reluctance to enter upon a
subject so painful to us both.'

'O, very well, Mr. Waverley,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the thing is at an
end. I have no occasion to press my sister upon any man.'

'Nor have I any occasion to court repeated rejection from the same young
lady,' answered Edward, in the same tone.

'I shall make due inquiry, however,' said the Chieftain, without noticing
the interruption, 'and learn what my sister thinks of all this, we will
then see whether it is to end here.'

'Respecting such inquiries, you will of course be guided by your own
judgment,' said Waverley. 'It is, I am aware, impossible Miss Mac-Ivor
can change her mind; and were such an unsupposable case to happen, it is
certain I will not change mine. I only mention this to prevent any
possibility of future misconstruction.'

Gladly at this moment would Mac-Ivor have put their quarrel to a personal
arbitrement, his eye flashed fire, and he measured Edward as if to choose
where he might best plant a mortal wound. But although we do not now
quarrel according to the modes and figures of Caranza or Vincent Saviola,
no one knew better than Fergus that there must be some decent pretext for
a mortal duel. For instance, you may challenge a man for treading on your
corn in a crowd, or for pushing you up to the wall, or for taking your
seat in the theatre; but the modern code of honour will not permit you to
found a quarrel upon your right of compelling a man to continue addresses
to a female relative which the fair lady has already refused. So that
Fergus was compelled to stomach this supposed affront until the whirligig
of time, whose motion he promised himself he would watch most sedulously,
should bring about an opportunity of revenge.

Waverley's servant always led a saddle-horse for him in the rear of the
battalion to which he was attached, though his master seldom rode. But
now, incensed at the domineering and unreasonable conduct of his late
friend, he fell behind the column and mounted his horse, resolving to
seek the Baron of Bradwardine, and request permission to volunteer in his
troop instead of the Mac-Ivor regiment.

'A happy time of it I should have had,' thought he, after he was mounted,
'to have been so closely allied to this superb specimen of pride and
self-opinion and passion. A colonel! why, he should have been a
generalissimo. A petty chief of three or four hundred men! his pride
might suffice for the Cham of Tartary--the Grand Seignior--the Great
Mogul! I am well free of him. Were Flora an angel, she would bring with
her a second Lucifer of ambition and wrath for a brother-in-law.'

The Baron, whose learning (like Sancho's jests while in the Sierra
Morena) seemed to grow mouldy for want of exercise, joyfully embraced the
opportunity of Waverley's offering his service in his regiment, to bring
it into some exertion. The good-natured old gentleman, however, laboured
to effect a reconciliation between the two quondam friends. Fergus turned
a cold ear to his remonstrances, though he gave them a respectful
hearing; and as for Waverley, he saw no reason why he should be the first
in courting a renewal of the intimacy which the Chieftain had so
unreasonably disturbed. The Baron then mentioned the matter to the
Prince, who, anxious to prevent quarrels in his little army, declared he
would himself remonstrate with Colonel Mac-Ivor on the unreasonableness
of his conduct. But, in the hurry of their march, it was a day or two
before he had an opportunity to exert his influence in the manner

In the meanwhile Waverley turned the instructions he had received while
in Gardiner's dragoons to some account, and assisted the Baron in his
command as a sort of adjutant. 'Parmi les aveugles un borgne est roi,'
says the French proverb; and the cavalry, which consisted chiefly of
Lowland gentlemen, their tenants and servants, formed a high opinion of
Waverley's skill and a great attachment to his person. This was indeed
partly owing to the satisfaction which they felt at the distinguished
English volunteer's leaving the Highlanders to rank among them; for there
was a latent grudge between the horse and foot, not only owing to the
difference of the services, but because most of the gentlemen, living
near the Highlands, had at one time or other had quarrels with the tribes
in their vicinity, and all of them looked with a jealous eye on the
Highlanders' avowed pretensions to superior valour and utility in the
Prince's service.



Itwas Waverley's custom sometimes to ride a little apart from the main
body, to look at any object of curiosity which occurred on the march.
They were now in Lancashire, when, attracted by a castellated old hall,
he left the squadron for half an hour to take a survey and slight sketch
of it. As he returned down the avenue he was met by Ensign Maccombich.
This man had contracted a sort of regard for Edward since the day of his
first seeing him at Tully-Veolan and introducing him to the Highlands. He
seemed to loiter, as if on purpose to meet with our hero. Yet, as he
passed him, he only approached his stirrup and pronounced the single word
'Beware!' and then walked swiftly on, shunning all further communication.

Edward, somewhat surprised at this hint, followed with his eyes the
course of Evan, who speedily disappeared among the trees. His servant,
Alick Polwarth, who was in attendance, also looked after the Highlander,
and then riding up close to his master, said,--

'The ne'er be in me, sir, if I think you're safe amang thae Highland

'What do you mean, Alick?' said Waverley.

'The Mac-Ivors, sir, hae gotten it into their heads that ye hae affronted
their young leddy, Miss Flora; and I hae heard mae than ane say, they
wadna tak muckle to mak a black-cock o' ye; and ye ken weel eneugh
there's mony o' them wadna mind a bawbee the weising a ball through the
Prince himsell, an the Chief gae them the wink, or whether he did or no,
if they thought it a thing that would please him when it was dune.'

Waverley, though confident that Fergus Mac-Ivor was incapable of such
treachery, was by no means equally sure of the forbearance of his
followers. He knew that, where the honour of the Chief or his family was
supposed to be touched, the happiest man would be he that could first
avenge the stigma; and he had often heard them quote a proverb, 'That the
best revenge was the most speedy and most safe.' Coupling this with the
hint of Evan, he judged it most prudent to set spurs to his horse and
ride briskly back to the squadron. Ere he reached the end of the long
avenue, however, a ball whistled past him, and the report of a pistol was

'It was that deevil's buckle, Callum Beg,' said Alick; 'I saw him whisk
away through amang the reises.'

Edward, justly incensed at this act of treachery, galloped out of the
avenue, and observed the battalion of Mac-Ivor at some distance moving
along the common in which it terminated. He also saw an individual
running very fast to join the party; this he concluded was the intended
assassin, who, by leaping an enclosure, might easily make a much shorter
path to the main body than he could find on horseback. Unable to contain
himself, he commanded Alick to go to the Baron of Bradwardine, who was at
the head of his regiment about half a mile in front, and acquaint him
with what had happened. He himself immediately rode up to Fergus's
regiment. The Chief himself was in the act of joining them. He was on
horseback, having returned from waiting on the Prince. On perceiving
Edward approaching, he put his horse in motion towards him.

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Waverley, without any farther salutation, 'I
have to inform you that one of your people has this instant fired at me
from a lurking-place.'

'As that,' answered Mac-Ivor, 'excepting the circumstance of a
lurking-place, is a pleasure which I presently propose to myself, I
should be glad to know which of my clansmen dared to anticipate me.'

'I shall certainly be at your command whenever you please; the gentleman
who took your office upon himself is your page there, Callum Beg.'

'Stand forth from the ranks, Callum! Did you fire at Mr. Waverley?'

'No,' answered the unblushing Callum.

'You did,' said Alick Polwarth, who was already returned, having met a
trooper by whom he despatched an account of what was going forward to the
Baron of Bradwardine, while he himself returned to his master at full
gallop, neither sparing the rowels of his spurs nor the sides of his
horse. 'You did; I saw you as plainly as I ever saw the auld kirk at

'You lie,' replied Callum, with his usual impenetrable obstinacy. The
combat between the knights would certainly, as in the days of chivalry,
have been preceded by an encounter between the squires (for Alick was a
stout-hearted Merseman, and feared the bow of Cupid far more than a
Highlander's dirk or claymore), but Fergus, with his usual tone of
decision, demanded Callum's pistol. The cock was down, the pan and muzzle
were black with the smoke; it had been that instant fired.

'Take that,' said Fergus, striking the boy upon the head with the heavy
pistol-butt with his whole force--'take that for acting without orders,
and lying to disguise it.' Callum received the blow without appearing to
flinch from it, and fell without sign of life. 'Stand still, upon your
lives!' said Fergus to the rest of the clan; 'I blow out the brains of
the first man who interferes between Mr. Waverley and me.' They stood
motionless; Evan Dhu alone showed symptoms of vexation and anxiety.
Callum lay on the ground bleeding copiously, but no one ventured to give
him any assistance. It seemed as if he had gotten his death-blow.

'And now for you, Mr. Waverley; please to turn your horse twenty yards
with me upon the common.' Waverley complied; and Fergus, confronting him
when they were a little way from the line of march, said, with great
affected coolness, 'I could not but wonder, sir, at the fickleness of
taste which you were pleased to express the other day. But it was not an
angel, as you justly observed, who had charms for you, unless she brought
an empire for her fortune. I have now an excellent commentary upon that
obscure text.'

'I am at a loss even to guess at your meaning, Colonel Mac-Ivor, unless
it seems plain that you intend to fasten a quarrel upon me.'

'Your affected ignorance shall not serve you, sir. The Prince--the Prince
himself has acquainted me with your manoeuvres. I little thought that
your engagements with Miss Bradwardine were the reason of your breaking
off your intended match with my sister. I suppose the information that
the Baron had altered the destination of his estate was quite a
sufficient reason for slighting your friend's sister and carrying off
your friend's mistress.'

'Did the Prince tell you I was engaged to Miss Bradwardine?' said
Waverley. 'Impossible.'

'He did, sir,' answered Mac-Ivor; 'so, either draw and defend yourself or
resign your pretensions to the lady.' 'This is absolute madness,'
exclaimed Waverley, 'or some strange mistake!'

'O! no evasion! draw your sword!' said the infuriated Chieftain, his own
already unsheathed.

'Must I fight in a madman's quarrel?'

'Then give up now, and forever, all pretensions to Miss Bradwardine's

'What title have you,' cried Waverley, utterly losing command of
himself--'what title have you, or any man living, to dictate such terms
to me?' And he also drew his sword.

At this moment the Baron of Bradwardine, followed by several of his
troop, came up on the spur, some from curiosity, others to take part in
the quarrel which they indistinctly understood had broken out between the
Mac-Ivors and their corps. The clan, seeing them approach, put themselves
in motion to support their Chieftain, and a scene of confusion commenced
which seamed likely to terminate in bloodshed. A hundred tongues were in
motion at once. The Baron lectured, the Chieftain stormed, the
Highlanders screamed in Gaelic, the horsemen cursed and swore in Lowland
Scotch. At length matters came to such a pass that the Baron threatened
to charge the Mac-Ivors unless they resumed their ranks, and many of
them, in return, presented their firearms at him and the other troopers.
The confusion was privately fostered by old Ballenkeiroch, who made no
doubt that his own day of vengeance was arrived, when, behold! a cry
arose of 'Room! make way! place a Monseigneur! place a Monseigneur!' This
announced the approach of the Prince, who came up with a party of
Fitz-James's foreign dragoons that acted as his body-guard. His arrival
produced some degree of order. The Highlanders reassumed their ranks, the
cavalry fell in and formed squadron, and the Baron and Chieftain were

The Prince called them and Waverley before him. Having heard the original
cause of the quarrel through the villainy of Callum Beg, he ordered him
into custody of the provost-marshal for immediate execution, in the event
of his surviving the chastisement inflicted by his Chieftain. Fergus,
however, in a tone betwixt claiming a right and asking a favour,
requested he might be left to his disposal, and promised his punishment
should be exemplary. To deny this might have seemed to encroach on the
patriarchal authority of the Chieftains, of which they were very jealous,
and they were not persons to be disobliged. Callum was therefore left to
the justice of his own tribe.

The Prince next demanded to know the new cause of quarrel between Colonel
Mac-Ivor and Waverley. There was a pause. Both gentlemen found the
presence of the Baron of Bradwardine (for by this time all three had
approached the Chevalier by his command) an insurmountable barrier
against entering upon a subject where the name of his daughter must
unavoidably be mentioned. They turned their eyes on the ground, with
looks in which shame and embarrassment were mingled with displeasure. The
Prince, who had been educated amongst the discontented and mutinous
spirits of the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every kind were the
daily subject of solicitude to the dethroned sovereign, had served his
apprenticeship, as old Frederick of Prussia would have said, to the trade
of royalty. To promote or restore concord among his followers was
indispensable. Accordingly he took his measures.

'Monsieur de Beaujeu!'

'Monseigneur!' said a very handsome French cavalry officer who was in

'Ayez la bonte d'aligner ces montagnards la, ainsi que la cavalerie, s'il
vous plait, et de les remettre a la marche. Vous parlez si bien
l'Anglois, cela ne vous donneroit pas beaucoup de peine.'

'Ah! pas du tout, Monseigneur,' replied Mons. le Comte de Beaujeu, his
head bending down to the neck of his little prancing highly-managed
charger. Accordingly he piaffed away, in high spirits and confidence, to
the head of Fergus's regiment, although understanding not a word of
Gaelic and very little English.

'Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois--dat is, gentilmans savages, have the
goodness d'arranger vous.'

The clan, comprehending the order more from the gesture than the words,
and seeing the Prince himself present, hastened to dress their ranks.

'Ah! ver well! dat is fort bien!' said the Count de Beaujeu. 'Gentilmans
sauvages! mais, tres bien. Eh bien! Qu'est ce que vous appelez visage,
Monsieur?' (to a lounging trooper who stood by him). 'Ah, oui! face. Je
vous remercie, Monsieur. Gentilshommes, have de goodness to make de face
to de right par file, dat is, by files. Marsh! Mais, tres bien; encore,
Messieurs; il faut vous mettre a la marche. ... Marchez done, au nom de
Dieu, parceque j'ai oublie le mot Anglois; mais vous etes des braves
gens, et me comprenez tres bien.'

The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion. 'Gentilmans
cavalry, you must fall in. Ah! par ma foi, I did not say fall off! I am a
fear de little gross fat gentilman is moche hurt. Ah, mon Dieu! c'est le
Commissaire qui nous a apporte les premieres nouvelles de ce maudit
fracas. Je suis trop fache, Monsieur!'

But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across him, and a white
cockade as large as a pancake, now figured in the character of a
commissary, being overturned in the bustle occasioned by the troopers
hastening to get themselves in order in the Prince's presence, before he
could rally his galloway, slunk to the rear amid the unrestrained
laughter of the spectators.

'Eh bien, Messieurs, wheel to de right. Ah! dat is it! Eh, Monsieur de
Bradwardine, ayez la bonte de vous mettre a la tete de votre regiment,
car, par Dieu, je n'en puis plus!'

The Baron of Bradwardine was obliged to go to the assistance of Monsieur
de Beaujeu, after he had fairly expended his few English military
phrases. One purpose of the Chevalier was thus answered. The other he
proposed was, that in the eagerness to hear and comprehend commands
issued through such an indistinct medium in his own presence, the
thoughts of the soldiers in both corps might get a current different from
the angry channel in which they were flowing at the time.

Charles Edward was no sooner left with the Chieftain and Waverley, the
rest of his attendants being at some distance, than he said, 'If I owed
less to your disinterested friendship, I could be most seriously angry
with both of you for this very extraordinary and causeless broil, at a
moment when my father's service so decidedly demands the most perfect
unanimity. But the worst of my situation is, that my very best friends
hold they have liberty to ruin themselves, as well as the cause they are
engaged in, upon the slightest caprice.'

Both the young men protested their resolution to submit every difference
to his arbitration. 'Indeed,' said Edward, 'I hardly know of what I am
accused. I sought Colonel Mac-Ivor merely to mention to him that I had
narrowly escaped assassination at the hand of his immediate dependent, a
dastardly revenge which I knew him to be incapable of authorising. As to
the cause for which he is disposed to fasten a quarrel upon me, I am
ignorant of it, unless it be that he accuses me, most unjustly, of having
engaged the affections of a young lady in prejudice of his pretensions.'

'If there is an error,' said the Chieftain, 'it arises from a
conversation which I held this morning with his Royal Highness himself.'

'With me?' said the Chevalier; 'how can Colonel Mac-Ivor have so far
misunderstood me?'

He then led Fergus aside, and, after five minutes' earnest conversation,
spurred his horse towards Edward. 'Is it possible--nay, ride up, Colonel,
for I desire no secrets--is it possible, Mr. Waverley, that I am mistaken
in supposing that you are an accepted lover of Miss Bradwardine? a fact
of which I was by circumstances, though not by communication from you, so
absolutely convinced that I alleged it to Vich Ian Vohr this morning as a
reason why, without offence to him, you might not continue to be
ambitious of an alliance which, to an unengaged person, even though once
repulsed, holds out too many charms to be lightly laid aside.'

'Your Royal Highness,' said Waverley,'must have founded on circumstances
altogether unknown to me, when you did me the distinguished honour of
supposing me an accepted lover of Miss Bradwardine. I feel the
distinction implied in the supposition, but I have no title to it. For
the rest, my confidence in my own merit is too justly slight to admit of
my hoping for success in any quarter after positive rejection.'

The Chevalier was silent for a moment, looking steadily at them both, and
then said, 'Upon my word, Mr. Waverley, you are a less happy man than I
conceived I had very good reason to believe you. But now, gentlemen,
allow me to be umpire in this matter, not as Prince Regent but as Charles
Stuart, a brother adventurer with you in the same gallant cause. Lay my
pretensions to be obeyed by you entirely out of view, and consider your
own honour, and how far it is well or becoming to give our enemies the
advantage and our friends the scandal of showing that, few as we are, we
are not united. And forgive me if I add, that the names of the ladies who
have been mentioned crave more respect from us all than to be made themes
of discord.'

He took Fergus a little apart and spoke to him very earnestly for two or
three minutes, and then returning to Waverley, said, 'I believe I have
satisfied Colonel Mac-Ivor that his resentment was founded upon a
misconception, to which, indeed, I myself gave rise; and I trust Mr.
Waverley is too generous to harbour any recollection of what is past when
I assure him that such is the case. You must state this matter properly
to your clan, Vich Ian Vohr, to prevent a recurrence of their precipitate
violence.' Fergus bowed. 'And now, gentlemen, let me have the pleasure to
see you shake hands.'

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently reluctant
to appear most forward in concession. They did, however, shake hands, and
parted, taking a respectful leave of the Chevalier.

Charles Edward [Footnote: See Note 12.] then rode to the head of the
Mac-Ivors, threw himself from his horse, begged a drink out of old
Ballenkeiroch's cantine, and marched about half a mile along with them,
inquiring into the history and connexions of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly
using the few words of Gaelic he possessed, and affecting a great desire
to learn it more thoroughly. He then mounted his horse once more, and
galloped to the Baron's cavalry, which was in front, halted them, and
examined their accoutrements and state of discipline; took notice of the
principal gentlemen, and even of the cadets; inquired after their ladies,
and commended their horses; rode about an hour with the Baron of
Bradwardine, and endured three long stories about Field-Marshal the Duke
of Berwick.

'Ah, Beaujeu, mon cher ami,' said he, as he returned to his usual place
in the line of march, 'que mon metier de prince errant est ennuyant, par
fois. Mais, courage! c'est le grand jeu, apres tout.'



The reader need hardly be reminded that, after a council of war held at
Derby on the 5th of December, the Highlanders relinquished their
desperate attempt to penetrate farther into England, and, greatly to the
dissatisfaction of their young and daring leader, positively determined
to return northward. They commenced their retreat accordingly, and, by
the extreme celerity of their movements, outstripped the motions of the
Duke of Cumberland, who now pursued them with a very large body of

This retreat was a virtual resignation of their towering hopes. None had
been so sanguine as Fergus Mac-Ivor; none, consequently, was so cruelly
mortified at the change of measures. He argued, or rather remonstrated,
with the utmost vehemence at the council of war; and, when his opinion
was rejected, shed tears of grief and indignation. From that moment his
whole manner was so much altered that he could scarcely have been
recognised for the same soaring and ardent spirit, for whom the whole
earth seemed too narrow but a week before. The retreat had continued for
several days, when Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th of
December, received a visit from the Chieftain in his quarters, in a
hamlet about half-way between Shap and Penrith.

Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since their rupture, Edward
waited with some anxiety an explanation of this unexpected visit; nor
could he help being surprised, and somewhat shocked, with the change in
his appearance. His eye had lost much of its fire; his cheek was hollow,
his voice was languid, even his gait seemed less firm and elastic than it
was wont; and his dress, to which he used to be particularly attentive,
was now carelessly flung about him. He invited Edward to walk out with
him by the little river in the vicinity; and smiled in a melancholy
manner when he observed him take down and buckle on his sword.

As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by the side of the
stream, the Chief broke out--'Our fine adventure is now totally ruined,
Waverley, and I wish to know what you intend to do;--nay, never stare at
me, man. I tell you I received a packet from my sister yesterday, and,
had I got the information it contains sooner, it would have prevented a
quarrel which I am always vexed when I think of. In a letter written
after our dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it; and she now
replies to me that she never had, nor could have, any purpose of giving
you encouragement; so that it seems I have acted like a madman. Poor
Flora! she writes in high spirits; what a change will the news of this
unhappy retreat make in her state of mind!'

Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep tone of melancholy
with which Fergus spoke, affectionately entreated him to banish from his
remembrance any unkindness which had arisen between them, and they once
more shook hands, but now with sincere cordiality. Fergus again inquired
of Waverley what he intended to do. 'Had you not better leave this
luckless army, and get down before us into Scotland, and embark for the
Continent from some of the eastern ports that are still in our
possession? When you are out of the kingdom, your friends will easily
negotiate your pardon; and, to tell you the truth, I wish you would carry
Rose Bradwardine with you as your wife, and take Flora also under your
joint protection.'--Edward looked surprised.--'She loves you, and I
believe you love her, though, perhaps, you have not found it out, for you
are not celebrated for knowing your own mind very pointedly.' He said
this with a sort of smile.

'How,' answered Edward, 'can you advise me to desert the expedition in
which we are all embarked?'

'Embarked?' said Fergus; 'the vessel is going to pieces, and it is full
time for all who can to get into the long-boat and leave her.'

'Why, what will other gentlemen do?' answered Waverley, 'and why did the
Highland Chiefs consent to this retreat if it is so ruinous?'

'O,' replied Mac-Ivor, 'they think that, as on former occasions, the
heading, hanging, and forfeiting will chiefly fall to the lot of the
Lowland gentry; that they will be left secure in their poverty and their
fastnesses, there, according to their proverb, "to listen to the wind
upon the hill till the waters abate." But they will be disappointed; they
have been too often troublesome to be so repeatedly passed over, and this
time John Bull has been too heartily frightened to recover his
good-humour for some time. The Hanoverian ministers always deserved to be
hanged for rascals; but now, if they get the power in their hands,--as,
sooner or later, they must, since there is neither rising in England nor
assistance from France,--they will deserve the gallows as fools if they
leave a single clan in the Highlands in a situation to be again
troublesome to government. Ay, they will make root-and-branch-work, I
warrant them.'

'And while you recommend flight to me,' said Edward,--'a counsel which I
would rather die than embrace,--what are your own views?'

'O,' answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, 'my fate is settled. Dead or
captive I must be before tomorrow.'

'What do you mean by that, my friend?' said Edward. 'The enemy is still a
day's march in our rear, and if he comes up, we are still strong enough
to keep him in check. Remember Gladsmuir.'

'What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I am individually

'Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a prediction?' asked

'On one which never failed a person of my house. I have seen,' he said,
lowering his voice, 'I have seen the Bodach Glas.'

'Bodach Glas?'

'Yes; have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and never heard of the Grey
Spectre? though indeed there is a certain reluctance among us to mention

'No, never.'

'Ah! it would have been a tale for poor Flora to have told you. Or, if
that hill were Benmore, and that long blue lake, which you see just
winding towards yon mountainous country, were Loch Tay, or my own Loch an
Ri, the tale would be better suited with scenery. However, let us sit
down on this knoll; even Saddleback and Ulswater will suit what I have to
say better than the English hedgerows, enclosures, and farmhouses. You
must know, then, that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted
Northumberland, there was associated with him in the expedition a sort of
Southland Chief, or captain of a band of Lowlanders, called Halbert Hall.
In their return through the Cheviots they quarrelled about the division
of the great booty they had acquired, and came from words to blows. The
Lowlanders were cut off to a man, and their chief fell the last, covered
with wounds by the sword of my ancestor. Since that time his spirit has
crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of the day when any great disaster was
impending, but especially before approaching death. My father saw him
twice, once before he was made prisoner at Sheriff-Muir, another time on
the morning of the day on which he died.'

'How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense with a grave face?'

' I do not ask you to believe it; but I tell you the truth, ascertained
by three hundred years' experience at least, and last night by my own

'The particulars, for heaven's sake!' said Waverley, with eagerness.

'I will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on the subject. Since
this unhappy retreat commenced I have scarce ever been able to sleep for
thinking of my clan, and of this poor Prince, whom they are leading back
like a dog in a string, whether he will or no, and of the downfall of my
family. Last night I felt so feverish that I left my quarters and walked
out, in hopes the keen frosty air would brace my nerves--I cannot tell
how much I dislike going on, for I know you will hardly believe me.
However--I crossed a small footbridge, and kept walking backwards and
forwards, when I observed with surprise by the clear moonlight a tall
figure in a grey plaid, such as shepherds wear in the south of Scotland,
which, move at what pace I would, kept regularly about four yards before

'You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress, probably.'

'No; I thought so at first, and was astonished at the man's audacity in
daring to dog me. I called to him, but received no answer. I felt an
anxious throbbing at my heart, and to ascertain what I dreaded, I stood
still and turned myself on the same spot successively to the four points
of the compass. By Heaven, Edward, turn where I would, the figure was
instantly before my eyes, at precisely the same distance! I was then
convinced it was the Bodach Glas. My hair bristled and my knees shook. I
manned myself, however, and determined to return to my quarters. My
ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say he walked) until he
reached the footbridge; there he stopped and turned full round. I must
either wade the river or pass him as close as I am to you. A desperate
courage, founded on the belief that my death was near, made me resolve to
make my way in despite of him. I made the sign of the cross, drew my
sword, and uttered, "In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!" "Vich
Ian Vohr," it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle, "beware of
to-morrow!" It seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's
point; but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone, and nothing
appeared further to obstruct my passage. I got home and threw myself on
my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough; and this morning, as no
enemy was reported to be near us, I took my horse and rode forward to
make up matters with you. I would not willingly fall until I am in
charity with a wronged friend.'

Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of an
exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief common to
all Highlanders in such superstitions. He did not the less pity Fergus,
for whom, in his present distress, he felt all his former regard revive.
With the view of diverting his mind from these gloomy images, he offered,
with the Baron's permission, which he knew he could readily obtain, to
remain in his quarters till Fergus's corps should come up, and then to
march with them as usual. The Chief seemed much pleased, yet hesitated to
accept the offer.

'We are, you know, in the rear, the post of danger in a retreat.'

'And therefore the post of honour.'

'Well,' replied the Chieftain, 'let Alick have your horse in readiness,
in case we should be overmatched, and I shall be delighted to have your
company once more.'

The rear-guard were late in making their appearance, having been delayed
by various accidents and by the badness of the roads. At length they
entered the hamlet. When Waverley joined the clan Mac-Ivor, arm-in-arm
with their Chieftain, all the resentment they had entertained against him
seemed blown off at once. Evan Dhu received him with a grin of
congratulation; and even Callum, who was running about as active as ever,
pale indeed, and with a great patch on his head, appeared delighted to
see him.

'That gallows-bird's skull,' said Fergus, 'must be harder than marble;
the lock of the pistol was actually broken.'

'How could you strike so young a lad so hard?' said Waverley, with some

'Why, if I did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals would forget

They were now in full march, every caution being taken to prevent
surprise. Fergus's people, and a fine clan regiment from Badenoch,
commanded by Cluny Mac-Pherson, had the rear. They had passed a large
open moor, and were entering into the enclosures which surround a small
village called Clifton. The winter sun had set, and Edward began to rally
Fergus upon the false predictions of the Grey Spirit. 'The ides of March
are not past,' said Mac-Ivor, with a smile; when, suddenly casting his
eyes back on the moor, a large body of cavalry was indistinctly seen to
hover upon its brown and dark surface. To line the enclosures facing the
open ground and the road by which the enemy must move from it upon the
village was the work of a short time. While these manoeuvres were
accomplishing, night sunk down, dark and gloomy, though the moon was at
full. Sometimes, however, she gleamed forth a dubious light upon the
scene of action.

The Highlanders did not long remain undisturbed in the defensive position
they had adopted. Favoured by the night, one large body of dismounted
dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, while another, equally
strong, strove to penetrate by the highroad. Both were received by such a
heavy fire as disconcerted their ranks and effectually checked their
progress. Unsatisfied with the advantage thus gained, Fergus, to whose
ardent spirit the approach of danger seemed to restore all its
elasticity, drawing his sword and calling out 'Claymore!' encouraged his
men, by voice and example, to break through the hedge which divided them
and rush down upon the enemy. Mingling with the dismounted dragoons, they
forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the open moor, where a
considerable number were cut to pieces. But the moon, which suddenly
shone out, showed to the English the small number of assailants,
disordered by their own success. Two squadrons of horse moving to the
support of their companions, the Highlanders endeavoured to recover the
enclosures. But several of them, amongst others their brave Chieftain,
were cut off and surrounded before they could effect their purpose.
Waverley, looking eagerly for Fergus, from whom, as well as from the
retreating body of his followers, he had been separated in the darkness
and tumult, saw him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending themselves
desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were hewing at them with
their long broadswords. The moon was again at that moment totally
overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity, could neither bring aid to his
friends nor discover which way lay his own road to rejoin the rear-guard.
After once or twice narrowly escaping being slain or made prisoner by
parties of the cavalry whom he encountered in the darkness, he at length
reached an enclosure, and, clambering over it, concluded himself in
safety and on the way to the Highland forces, whose pipes he heard at
some distance. For Fergus hardly a hope remained, unless that he might be
made prisoner Revolving his fate with sorrow and anxiety, the
superstition of the Bodach Glas recurred to Edward's recollection, and he
said to himself, with internal surprise 'What, can the devil speak
truth?' [Footnote: See Note 13.]



Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation. He soon lost the
sound of the bagpipes; and, what was yet more unpleasant, when, after
searching long in vain and scrambling through many enclosures, he at
length approached the highroad, he learned, from the unwelcome noise of
kettledrums and trumpets, that the English cavalry now occupied it, and
consequently were between him and the Highlanders. Precluded, therefore,
from advancing in a straight direction, he resolved to avoid the English
military and endeavour to join his friends by making a circuit to the
left, for which a beaten path, deviating from the main road in that
direction, seemed to afford facilities. The path was muddy and the night
dark and cold; but even these inconveniences were hardly felt amidst the
apprehensions which falling into the hands of the King's forces
reasonably excited in his bosom.

After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet. Conscious
that the common people were in general unfavourable to the cause he had
espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure a horse and guide to
Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, if not the main body, of the
Chevalier's army, he approached the alehouse of the place. There was a
great noise within; he paused to listen. A round English oath or two, and
the burden of a campaign song, convinced him the hamlet also was occupied
by the Duke of Cumberland's soldiers. Endeavouring to retire from it as
softly as possible, and blessing the obscurity which hitherto he had
murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he could along a small
paling, which seemed the boundary of some cottage garden. As he reached
the gate of this little enclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by
that of a female, whose voice at the same time uttered, 'Edward, is't
thou, man?'

'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, but gently,
to disengage himself.

'Naen o' thy foun, now, man, or the red cwoats will hear thee; they hae
been houlerying and poulerying every ane that past alehouse door this
noight to make them drive their waggons and sick loike. Come into
feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'

'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through the little
garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself to kindle a
match at an expiring fire, and with the match to light a candle. She had
no sooner looked on Edward than she dropped the light, with a shrill
scream of 'O feyther, feyther!'

The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared--a sturdy old farmer, in a
pair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on without stockings, having
just started from his bed; the rest of his dress was only a Westmoreland
statesman's robe-de-chambre--that is, his shirt. His figure was displayed
to advantage by a candle which he bore in his left hand; in his right he
brandished a poker.

'What hast ho here, wench?'

'O!' cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, 'I thought it
was Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men.'

'And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this time o'
noight?' To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous class of
questions more easily asked than answered, the rosy-cheeked damsel made
no reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her hands.

'And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town? dost ho know
that, mon? ad, they'll sliver thee loike a turnip, mon.'

'I know my life is in great danger,' said Waverley, 'but if you can
assist me, I will reward you handsomely. I am no Scotchman, but an
unfortunate English gentleman.'

'Be ho Scot or no,' said the honest farmer, 'I wish thou hadst kept the
other side of the hallan. But since thou art here, Jacob Jopson will
betray no man's bluid; and the plaids were gay canny, and did not do so
much mischief when they were here yesterday.' Accordingly, he set
seriously about sheltering and refreshing our hero for the night. The
fire was speedily rekindled, but with precaution against its light being
seen from without. The jolly yeoman cut a rasher of bacon, which Cicely
soon broiled, and her father added a swingeing tankard of his best ale.
It was settled that Edward should remain there till the troops marched in
the morning, then hire or buy a horse from the farmer, and, with the best
directions that could be obtained, endeavour to overtake his friends. A
clean, though coarse, bed received him after the fatigues of this unhappy

With the morning arrived the news that the Highlanders had evacuated
Penrith, and marched off towards Carlisle; that the Duke of Cumberland
was in possession of Penrith, and that detachments of his army covered
the roads in every direction. To attempt to get through undiscovered
would be an act of the most frantic temerity. Ned Williams (the right
Edward) was now called to council by Cicely and her father. Ned, who
perhaps did not care that his handsome namesake should remain too long in
the same house with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes, proposed
that Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dress of the
country, should go with him to his father's farm near Ullswater, and
remain in that undisturbed retirement until the military movements in the
country should have ceased to render his departure hazardous. A price was
also agreed upon, at which the stranger might board with Farmer Williams
if he thought proper, till he could depart with safety. It was of
moderate amount; the distress of his situation, among this honest and
simple-hearted race, being considered as no reason for increasing their

The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured, and, by
following by-paths known to the young farmer, they hoped to escape any
unpleasant rencontre. A recompense for their hospitality was refused
peremptorily by old Jopson and his cherry-cheeked daughter; a kiss paid
the one and a hearty shake of the hand the other. Both seemed anxious for
their guest's safety, and took leave of him with kind wishes.

In the course of their route Edward, with his guide, traversed those
fields which the night before had been the scene of action. A brief gleam
of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath, which, towards the spot
where the great north-west road entered the enclosures of Lord Lonsdale's
property, exhibited dead bodies of men and horses, and the usual
companions of war, a number of carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens.

'And this, then, was thy last field,' said Waverley to himself, his eye
filling at the recollection of the many splendid points of Fergus's
character, and of their former intimacy, all his passions and
imperfections forgotten--'here fell the last Vich Ian Vohr, on a nameless
heath; and in an obscure night-skirmish was quenched that ardent spirit,
who thought it little to cut a way for his master to the British throne!
Ambition, policy, bravery, all far beyond their sphere, here learned the
fate of mortals. The sole support, too, of a sister whose spirit, as
proud and unbending, was even more exalted than thine own; here ended all
thy hopes for Flora, and the long and valued line which it was thy boast
to raise yet more highly by thy adventurous valour!'

As these ideas pressed on Waverley's mind, he resolved to go upon the
open heath and search if, among the slain, he could discover the body of
his friend, with the pious intention of procuring for him the last rites
of sepulture. The timorous young man who accompanied him remonstrated
upon the danger of the attempt, but Edward was determined. The followers
of the camp had already stripped the dead of all they could carry away;
but the country people, unused to scenes of blood, had not yet approached
the field of action, though some stood fearfully gazing at a distance.
About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain within the first enclosure,
upon the highroad, and on the open moor. Of the Highlanders, not above a
dozen had fallen, chiefly those who, venturing too far on the moor, could
not regain the strong ground. He could not find the body of Fergus among
the slain. On a little knoll, separated from the others, lay the
carcasses of three English dragoons, two horses, and the page Callum Beg,
whose hard skull a trooper's broadsword had, at length, effectually
cloven. It was possible his clan had carried off the body of Fergus; but
it was also possible he had escaped, especially as Evan Dhu, who would
never leave his Chief, was not found among the dead; or he might be
prisoner, and the less formidable denunciation inferred from the
appearance of the Bodach Glas might have proved the true one. The
approach of a party sent for the purpose of compelling the country people
to bury the dead, and who had already assembled several peasants for that
purpose, now obliged Edward to rejoin his guide, who awaited him in great
anxiety and fear under shade of the plantations.

After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey was happily
accomplished. At the house of Farmer Williams, Edward passed for a young
kinsman, educated for the church, who was come to reside there till the
civil tumults permitted him to pass through the country. This silenced
suspicion among the kind and simple yeomanry of Cumberland, and accounted
sufficiently for the grave manners and retired habits of the new guest.
The precaution became more necessary than Waverley had anticipated, as a
variety of incidents prolonged his stay at Fasthwaite, as the farm was

A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for more than
ten days. When the roads began to become a little practicable, they
successively received news of the retreat of the Chevalier into Scotland;
then, that he had abandoned the frontiers, retiring upon Glasgow; and
that the Duke of Cumberland had formed the siege of Carlisle. His army,
therefore, cut off all possibility of Waverley's escaping into Scotland
in that direction. On the eastern border Marshal Wade, with a large
force, was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all along the frontier, parties
of militia, volunteers, and partizans were in arms to suppress
insurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from the Highland army as had
been left in England. The surrender of Carlisle, and the severity with
which the rebel garrison were threatened, soon formed an additional
reason against venturing upon a solitary and hopeless journey through a
hostile country and a large army, to carry the assistance of a single
sword to a cause which seemed altogether desperate. In this lonely and
secluded situation, without the advantage of company or conversation with
men of cultivated minds, the arguments of Colonel Talbot often recurred
to the mind of our hero. A still more anxious recollection haunted his
slumbers--it was the dying look and gesture of Colonel Gardiner. Most
devoutly did he hope, as the rarely occurring post brought news of
skirmishes with various success, that it might never again be his lot to
draw his sword in civil conflict. Then his mind turned to the supposed
death of Fergus, to the desolate situation of Flora, and, with yet more
tender recollection, to that of Rose Bradwardine, who was destitute of
the devoted enthusiasm of loyalty, which to her friend hallowed and
exalted misfortune. These reveries he was permitted to enjoy, undisturbed
by queries or interruption; and it was in many a winter walk by the
shores of Ullswater that he acquired a more complete mastery of a spirit
tamed by adversity than his former experience had given him; and that he
felt himself entitled to say firmly, though perhaps with a sigh, that the
romance of his life was ended, and that its real history had now
commenced. He was soon called upon to justify his pretensions by reason
and philosophy.



Theamily at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Edward. He had, indeed, that
gentleness and urbanity which almost universally attracts corresponding
kindness; and to their simple ideas his learning gave him consequence,
and his sorrows interest. The last he ascribed, evasively, to the loss of
a brother in the skirmish near Clifton; and in that primitive state of
society, where the ties of affection were highly deemed of, his continued
depression excited sympathy, but not surprise.

In the end of January his more lively powers were called out by the happy
union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with Cicely Jopson. Our
hero would not cloud with sorrow the festivity attending the wedding of
two persons to whom he was so highly obliged. He therefore exerted
himself, danced, sung, played at the various games of the day, and was
the blithest of the company. The next morning, however, he had more
serious matters to think of.

The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased with
the supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith on
purpose to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling chapter had
he entered into any examination of our hero's supposed theological
studies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate the news
of the day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, in one of
which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him deaf to
every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the news from
the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily overtaking and
crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, or nearly these

'Died at his house, in Hill Street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10th inst.,
Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley of
Waverley-Honour, etc. etc. He died of a lingering disorder, augmented by
the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, having been
obliged to find bail to a high amount to meet an impending accusation of
high-treason. An accusation of the same grave crime hangs over his elder
brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient family;
and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early in the next
month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, and heir to
the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice. In that case we are
assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to drop further proceedings
upon the charge against Sir Everard. This unfortunate young gentleman is
ascertained to have been in arms in the Pretender's service, and to have
marched along with the Highland troops into England. But he has not been
heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, on the 18th December last.'

Such was this distracting paragraph. 'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley, 'am
I then a parricide? Impossible! My father, who never showed the affection
of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affected by my
supposed death as to hasten his own; no, I will not believe it, it were
distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea. But it were,
if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to hang over my
noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me than a father, if
such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!'

While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions through
Waverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a long
disquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness which they
communicated to his looks, and asked him if he was ill? Fortunately the
bride, all smirk and blush, had just entered the room. Mrs. Williams was
none of the brightest of women, but she was good-natured, and readily
concluding that Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in the
papers, interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, she
drew off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it until he soon after
took his leave. Waverley then explained to his friends that he was under
the necessity of going to London with as little delay as possible.

One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had been very
little accustomed. His purse, though well stocked when he first went to
Tully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that period; and although his
life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hastily, for he had
lived chiefly with his friends or with the army, yet he found that, after
settling with his kind landlord, he should be too poor to encounter the
expense of travelling post. The best course, therefore, seemed to be to
get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, and there take a place
in the northern diligence, a huge old-fashioned tub, drawn by three
horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh to London (God
willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks. Our hero,
therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberland friends, whose
kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hoped ene day to
acknowledge by substantial proofs of gratitude. After some petty
difficulties and vexatious delays, and after putting his dress into a
shape better befitting his rank, though perfectly plain and simple, he
accomplished crossing the country, and found himself in the desired
vehicle vis-a-vis to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of Lieutenant Nosebag,
adjutant and riding-master of the--dragoons, a jolly woman of about
fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping a
silver-mounted horse-whip.

This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon them
faire lefrais de la conversation. She had just returned from the north,
and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had cut the petticoat people
into ribands at Falkirk, 'only somehow there was one of those nasty,
awkward marshes, that they are never without in Scotland, I think, and so
our poor dear little regiment suffered something, as my Nosebag says, in
that unsatisfactory affair. You, sir, have served in the dragoons?'
Waverley was taken so much at unawares that he acquiesced.

'O, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air, and I was
sure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my Nosebag calls them.
What regiment, pray?' Here was a delightful question. Waverley, however,
justly concluded that this good lady had the whole army-list by heart;
and, to avoid detection by adhering to truth, answered, 'Gardiner's
dragoons, ma'am; but I have retired some time.'

'O aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my Nosebag
says. Pray, sir, were you there?'

'I was so unfortunate, madam,' he replied, 'as to witness that

'And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to witness, I
believe, sir--ha! ha! ha! I beg your pardon; but a soldier's wife loves a

'Devil confound you,' thought Waverley: 'what infernal luck has penned me
up with this inquisitive hag!'

Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject. 'We are
coming to Ferrybridge now,' she said, 'where there was a party of OURS
left to support the beadles, and constables, and justices, and these sort
of creatures that are examining papers and stopping rebels, and all
that.' They were hardly in the inn before she dragged Waverley to the
window, exclaiming, 'Yonder comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poor dear
troop; he's coming with the constable man. Bridoon's one of my lambs, as
Nosebag calls 'ern. Come, Mr.--a--a--pray, what's your name, sir?'

'Butler, ma'am,' said Waverley, resolved rather to make free with the
name of a former fellow-officer than run the risk of detection by
inventing one not to be found in the regiment.

'O, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley, went over
to the rebels? Lord, I wish our old cross Captain Crump would go over to
the rebels, that Nosebag might get the troop! Lord, what can Bridoon be
standing swinging on the bridge for? I'll be hanged if he a'nt hazy, as
Nosebag says. Come, sir, as you and I belong to the service, we'll go put
the rascal in mind of his duty.'

Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, saw himself
obliged to follow this doughty female commander. The gallant trooper was
as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of dragoons, about six feet high, with
very broad shoulders, and very thin legs, not to mention a great scar
across his nose, could well be. Mrs. Nosebag addressed him with something
which, if not an oath, sounded very like one, and commanded him to attend
to his duty. 'You be d--d for a----,' commenced the gallant cavalier;
but, looking up in order to suit the action to the words, and also to
enforce the epithet which he meditated with an adjective applicable to
the party, he recognised the speaker, made his military salaam, and
altered his tone. 'Lord love your handsome face, Madam Nosebag, is it
you? Why, if a poor fellow does happen to fire a slug of a morning, I am
sure you were never the lady to bring him to harm.'

'Well, you rascallion, go, mind your duty; this gentleman and I belong to
the service; but be sure you look after that shy cock in the slouched hat
that sits in the corner of the coach. I believe he's one of the rebels in

'D--n her gooseberry wig,' said the corporal, when she was out of
hearing, 'that gimlet-eyed jade--mother adjutant, as we call her--is a
greater plague to the regiment than provost-marshal, sergeant-major, and
old Hubble-de-Shuff, the colonel, into the bargain. Come, Master
Constable, let's see if this shy cock, as she calls him (who, by the way,
was a Quaker from Leeds, with whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tart
argument on the legality of bearing arms), will stand godfather to a sup
of brandy, for your Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach.'

The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this scrape,
was like to have drawn him into one or two others. In every town where
they stopped she wished to examine the corps de garde, if there was one,
and once very narrowly missed introducing Waverley to a
recruiting-sergeant of his own regiment. Then she Captain'd and Butler'd
him till he was almost mad with vexation and anxiety; and never was he
more rejoiced in his life at the termination of a journey than when the
arrival of the coach in London freed him from the attentions of Madam



Itwas twilight when they arrived in town; and having shaken off his
companions, and walked through a good many streets to avoid the
possibility of being traced by them, Edward took a hackney-coach and
drove to Colonel Talbot's house, in one of the principal squares at the
west end of the town. That gentleman, by the death of relations, had
succeeded since his marriage to a large fortune, possessed considerable
political interest, and lived in what is called great style.

When Waverley knocked at his door he found it at first difficult to
procure admittance, but at length was shown into an apartment where the
Colonel was at table. Lady Emily, whose very beautiful features were
still pallid from indisposition, sate opposite to him. The instant he
heard Waverley's voice, he started up and embraced him. 'Frank Stanley,
my dear boy, how d'ye do? Emily, my love, this is young Stanley.'

The blood started to the lady's cheek as she gave Waverley a reception in
which courtesy was mingled with kindness, while her trembling hand and
faltering voice showed how much she was startled and discomposed. Dinner
was hastily replaced, and while Waverley was engaged in refreshing
himself, the Colonel proceeded--'I wonder you have come here, Frank; the
Doctors tell me the air of London is very bad for your complaints. You
should not have risked it. But I am delighted to see you, and so is
Emily, though I fear we must not reckon upon your staying long.'

'Some particular business brought me up,' muttered Waverley.

'I supposed so, but I shan't allow you to stay long. Spontoon' (to an
elderly military-looking servant out of livery),'take away these things,
and answer the bell yourself, if I ring. Don't let any of the other
fellows disturb us. My nephew and I have business to talk of.'

When the servants had retired, 'In the name of God, Waverley, what has
brought you here? It may be as much as your life is worth.'

'Dear Mr. Waverley,' said Lady Emily, 'to whom I owe so much more than
acknowledgments can ever pay, how could you be so rash?'

'My father--my uncle--this paragraph,'--he handed the paper to Colonel

'I wish to Heaven these scoundrels were condemned to be squeezed to death
in their own presses,' said Talbot. 'I am told there are not less than a
dozen of their papers now published in town, and no wonder that they are
obliged to invent lies to find sale for their journals. It is true,
however, my dear Edward, that you have lost your father; but as to this
flourish of his unpleasant situation having grated upon his spirits and
hurt his health--the truth is--for though it is harsh to say so now, yet
it will relieve your mind from the idea of weighty responsibility--the
truth then is, that Mr. Richard Waverley, through this whole business,
showed great want of sensibility, both to your situation and that of your
uncle; and the last time I saw him, he told me, with great glee, that, as
I was so good as to take charge of your interests, he had thought it best
to patch up a separate negotiation for himself, and make his peace with
government through some channels which former connexions left still open
to him.'

'And my uncle, my dear uncle?'

'Is in no danger whatever. It is true (looking at the date of the paper)
there was a foolish report some time ago to the purport here quoted, but
it is entirely false. Sir Everard is gone down to Waverley-Honour, freed
from all uneasiness, unless upon your own account. But you are in peril
yourself; your name is in every proclamation; warrants are out to
apprehend you. How and when did you come here?'

Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quarrel with Fergus;
for, being himself partial to Highlanders, he did not wish to give any
advantage to the Colonel's national prejudice against them.

'Are you sure it was your friend Glen's foot-boy you saw dead in Clifton

'Quite positive.'

'Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the gallows, for
cut-throat was written in his face; though (turning to Lady Emily) it was
a very handsome face too. But for you, Edward, I wish you would go down
again to Cumberland, or rather I wish you had never stirred from thence,
for there is an embargo in all the seaports, and a strict search for the
adherents of the Pretender; and the tongue of that confounded woman will
wag in her head like the clack of a mill, till somehow or other she will
detect Captain Butler to be a feigned personage.'

'Do you know anything,' asked Waverley, 'of my fellow-traveller?'

'Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years; she was a buxom widow,
with a little money; he married her, was steady, and got on by being a
good drill. I must send Spontoon to see what she is about; he will find
her out among the old regimental connections. To-morrow you must be
indisposed, and keep your room from fatigue. Lady Emily is to be your
nurse, and Spontoon and I your attendants. You bear the name of a near
relation of mine, whom none of my present people ever saw, except
Spontoon, so there will be no immediate danger. So pray feel your head
ache and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may be put
upon the sick-list; and, Emily, do you order an apartment for Frank
Stanley, with all the attentions which an invalid may require.'

In the morning the Colonel visited his guest. 'Now,' said he, 'I have
some good news for you. Your reputation as a gentleman and officer is
effectually cleared of neglect of duty and accession to the mutiny in
Gardiner's regiment. I have had a correspondence on this subject with a
very zealous friend of yours, your Scottish parson, Morton; his first
letter was addressed to Sir Everard; but I relieved the good Baronet of
the trouble of answering it. You must know, that your free-booting
acquaintance, Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the hands of
the Philistines. He was driving off the cattle of a certain proprietor,
called Killan--something or other--'


'The same. Now the gentleman being, it seems, a great farmer, and having
a special value for his breed of cattle, being, moreover, rather of a
timid disposition, had got a party of soldiers to protect his property.
So Donald ran his head unawares into the lion's mouth, and was defeated
and made prisoner. Being ordered for execution, his conscience was
assailed on the one hand by a Catholic priest, on the other by your
friend Morton. He repulsed the Catholic chiefly on account of the
doctrine of extreme unction, which this economical gentleman considered
as an excessive waste of oil. So his conversion from a state of
impenitence fell to Mr. Morton's share, who, I daresay, acquitted himself
excellently, though I suppose Donald made but a queer kind of Christian
after all. He confessed, however, before a magistrate, one Major
Melville, who seems to have been a correct, friendly sort of person, his
full intrigue with Houghton, explaining particularly how it was carried
on, and fully acquitting you of the least accession to it. He also
mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the volunteer officer, and
sending you, by orders of the Pret--Chevalier, I mean--as a prisoner to
Doune, from whence he understood you were carried prisoner to Edinburgh.
These are particulars which cannot but tell in your favour. He hinted
that he had been employed to deliver and protect you, and rewarded for
doing so; but he would not confess by whom, alleging that, though he
would not have minded breaking any ordinary oath to satisfy the curiosity
of Mr. Morton, to whose pious admonitions he owed so much, yet, in the
present case he had been sworn to silence upon the edge of his dirk,
[Footnote: See Note 38.] which, it seems, constituted, in his opinion, an
inviolable obligation.'

'And what is become of him?'

'Oh, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised the siege, with
his lieutenant and four plaids besides; he having the advantage of a
gallows more lofty than his friends.'

'Well, I have little cause either to regret or rejoice at his death; and
yet he has done me both good and harm to a very considerable extent.'

'His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it wipes from
your character all those suspicions which gave the accusation against you
a complexion of a nature different from that with which so many
unfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in arms against the government, may
be justly charged. Their treason--I must give it its name, though you
participate in its guilt--is an action arising from mistaken virtue, and
therefore cannot be classed as a disgrace, though it be doubtless highly
criminal. Where the guilty are so numerous, clemency must be extended to
far the greater number; and I have little doubt of procuring a remission
for you, providing we can keep you out of the claws of justice till she
has selected and gorged upon her victims; for in this, as in other cases,
it will be according to the vulgar proverb, "First come, first served."
Besides, government are desirous at present to intimidate the English
Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for punishment. This is
a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon wear off, for of all
nations the English are least blood-thirsty by nature. But it exists at
present, and you must therefore be kept out of the way in the mean-time.'

Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance. By his regimental
acquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and found her full of ire,
fuss, and fidget at discovery of an impostor who had travelled from the
north with her under the assumed name of Captain Butler of Gardiner's
dragoons. She was going to lodge an information on the subject, to have
him sought for as an emissary of the Pretender; but Spontoon (an old
soldier), while he pretended to approve, contrived to make her delay her
intention. No time, however, was to be lost: the accuracy of this good
dame's description might probably lead to the discovery that Waverley was
the pretended Captain Butler, an identification fraught with danger to
Edward, perhaps to his uncle, and even to Colonel Talbot. Which way to
direct his course was now, therefore, the question.

'To Scotland,' said Waverley.

'To Scotland?' said the Colonel; 'with what purpose? not to engage again
with the rebels, I hope?'

'No; I considered my campaign ended when, after all my efforts, I could
not rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone to make a winter
campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents as I am would rather be
burdensome than useful. Indeed, it seems likely that they only prolong
the war to place the Chevalier's person out of danger, and then to make
some terms for themselves. To burden them with my presence would merely
add another party, whom they would not give up and could not defend. I
understand they left almost all their English adherents in garrison at
Carlisle, for that very reason. And on a more general view, Colonel, to
confess the truth, though it may lower me in your opinion, I am heartly
tired of the trade of war, and am, as Fletcher's Humorous Lieutenant
says, "even as weary of this fighting-'"

'Fighting! pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish or two? Ah! if you saw
war on the grand scale--sixty or a hundred thousand men in the field on
each side!'

'I am not at all curious, Colonel. "Enough," says our homely proverb, "is
as good as a feast." The plumed troops and the big war used to enchant me
in poetry, but the night marches, vigils, couches under the wintry sky,
and such accompaniments of the glorious trade, are not at all to my taste
in practice; then for dry blows, I had MY fill of fighting at Clifton,
where I escaped by a hair's-breadth half a dozen times; and you, I should
think--' He stopped.

'Had enough of it at Preston? you mean to say,' answered the Colonel,
laughing; 'but 'tis my vocation, Hal.'

'It is not mine, though,' said Waverley; 'and having honourably got rid
of the sword, which I drew only as a volunteer, I am quite satisfied with
my military experience, and shall be in no hurry to take it up again.'

'I am very glad you are of that mind; but then what would you do in the

'In the first place, there are some seaports on the eastern coast of
Scotland still in the hands of the Chevalier's friends; should I gain any
of them, I can easily embark for the Continent.'

'Good, your second reason?'

'Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in Scotland upon whom I
now find my happiness depends more than I was always aware, and about
whose situation I am very anxious.'

'Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in the case after all?
And which of these two pretty Scotchwomen, whom you insisted upon my
admiring, is the distinguished fair? not Miss Glen--I hope.'


'Ah, pass for the other; simplicity may be improved, but pride and
conceit never. Well, I don't discourage you; I think it will please Sir
Everard, from what he said when I jested with him about it; only I hope
that intolerable papa, with his brogue, and his snuff, and his Latin, and
his insufferable long stories about the Duke of Berwick, will find it
necessary hereafter to be an inhabitant of foreign parts. But as to the
daughter, though I think you might find as fitting a match in England,
yet if your heart be really set upon this Scotch rosebud, why the Baronet
has a great opinion of her father and of his family, and he wishes much
to see you married and settled, both for your own sake and for that of
the three ermines passant, which may otherwise pass away altogether. But
I will bring you his mind fully upon the subject, since you are debarred
correspondence for the present, for I think you will not be long in
Scotland before me.'

'Indeed! and what can induce you to think of returning to Scotland? No
relenting longings towards the land of mountains and floods, I am

'None, on my word; but Emily's health is now, thank God, reestablished,
and, to tell you the truth, I have little hopes of concluding the
business which I have at present most at heart until I can have a
personal interview with his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief; for,
as Fluellen says, "the duke doth love me well, and I thank heaven I have
deserved some love at his hands." I am now going out for an hour or two
to arrange matters for your departure; your liberty extends to the next
room, Lady Emily's parlour, where you will find her when you are disposed
for music, reading, or conversation. We have taken measures to exclude
all servants but Spontoon, who is as true as steel.'

In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found his young friend
conversing with his lady; she pleased with his manners and information,
and he delighted at being restored, though but for a moment, to the
society of his own rank, from which he had been for some time excluded.

'And now,' said the Colonel, 'hear my arrangements, for there is little
time to lose. This youngster, Edward Waverley, alias Williams, alias
Captain Butler, must continue to pass by his fourth ALIAS of Francis
Stanley, my nephew; he shall set out to-morrow for the North, and the
chariot shall take him the first two stages. Spontoon shall then attend
him; and they shall ride post as far as Huntingdon; and the presence of
Spontoon, well known on the road as my servant, will check all
disposition to inquiry. At Huntingdon you will meet the real Frank
Stanley. He is studying at Cambridge; but, a little while ago, doubtful
if Emily's health would permit me to go down to the North myself, I
procured him a passport from the secretary of state's office to go in my
stead. As he went chiefly to look after you, his journey is now
unnecessary. He knows your story; you will dine together at Huntingdon;
and perhaps your wise heads may hit upon some plan for removing or
diminishing the danger of your farther progress north-ward. And now
(taking out a morocco case), let me put you in funds for the campaign.'

'I am ashamed, my dear Colonel--'

'Nay,' said Colonel Talbot, 'you should command my purse in any event;
but this money is your own. Your father, considering the chance of your
being attainted, left me his trustee for your advantage. So that you are
worth above L15,000, besides Brere-Wood Lodge--a very independent person,
I promise you. There are bills here for L200; any larger sum you may
have, or credit abroad, as soon as your motions require it.'

The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly acquired wealth was
to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his acceptance of a silver
tankard on the part of his friend Williams, who had not forgotten the
night of the eighteenth December last. He begged him at the same time
carefully to preserve for him his Highland garb and accoutrements,
particularly the arms, curious in themselves, and to which the friendship
of the donors gave additional value. Lady Emily undertook to find some
suitable token of remembrance likely to flatter the vanity and please the
taste of Mrs. Williams; and the Colonel, who was a kind of farmer,
promised to send the Ullswater patriarch an excellent team of horses for
cart and plough.

One happy day Waverley spent in London; and, travelling in the manner
projected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntingdon. The two young men
were acquainted in a minute.

'I can read my uncle's riddle,' said Stanley;'the cautious old soldier
did not care to hint to me that I might hand over to you this passport,
which I have no occasion for; but if it should afterwards come out as the
rattle-pated trick of a young Cantab, cela ne tire a rien. You are
therefore to be Francis Stanley, with this passport.' This proposal
appeared in effect to alleviate a great part of the difficulties which
Edward must otherwise have encountered at every turn; and accordingly he
scrupled not to avail himself of it, the more especially as he had
discarded all political purposes from his present journey, and could not
be accused of furthering machinations against the government while
travelling under protection of the secretary's passport.

The day passed merrily away. The young student was inquisitive about
Waverley's campaigns, and the manners of the Highlands, and Edward was
obliged to satisfy his curiosity by whistling a pibroch, dancing a
strathspey, and singing a Highland song. The next morning Stanley rode a
stage northward with his new friend, and parted from him with great
reluctance, upon the remonstrances of Spontoon, who, accustomed to submit
to discipline, was rigid in enforcing it.



Waverley riding post, as was the usual fashion of the period, without any
adventure save one or two queries, which the talisman of his passport
sufficiently answered, reached the borders of Scotland. Here he heard the
tidings of the decisive battle of Culloden. It was no more than he had
long expected, though the success at Falkirk had thrown a faint and
setting gleam over the arms of the Chevalier. Yet it came upon him like a
shock, by which he was for a time altogether unmanned. The generous, the
courteous, the noble-minded adventurer was then a fugitive, with a price
upon his head; his adherents, so brave, so enthusiastic, so faithful,
were dead, imprisoned, or exiled. Where, now, was the exalted and
high-souled Fergus, if, indeed, he had survived the night at Clifton?
Where the pure-hearted and primitive Baron of Bradwardine, whose foibles
seemed foils to set off the disinterestedness of his disposition, the
genuine goodness of his heart, and his unshaken courage? Those who clung
for support to these fallen columns, Rose and Flora, where were they to
be sought, and in what distress must not the loss of their natural
protectors have involved them? Of Flora he thought with the regard of a
brother for a sister; of Rose with a sensation yet more deep and tender.
It might be still his fate to supply the want of those guardians they had
lost. Agitated by these thoughts he precipitated his journey.

When he arrived in Edinburgh, where his inquiries must necessarily
commence, he felt the full difficulty of his situation. Many inhabitants
of that city had seen and known him as Edward Waverley; how, then, could
he avail himself of a passport as Francis Stanley? He resolved,
therefore, to avoid all company, and to move northward as soon as
possible. He was, however, obliged to wait a day or two in expectation of
a letter from Colonel Talbot, and he was also to leave his own address,
under his feigned character, at a place agreed upon. With this latter
purpose he sallied out in the dusk through the well-known streets,
carefully shunning observation, but in vain: one of the first persons
whom he met at once recognised him. It was Mrs. Flockhart, Fergus
Mac-Ivor's good-humoured landlady.

'Gude guide us, Mr. Waverley, is this you? na, ye needna be feared for
me. I wad betray nae gentleman in your circumstances. Eh, lack-a-day!
lack-a-day! here's a change o' markets; how merry Colonel Mac-Ivor and
you used to be in our house!' And the good-natured widow shed a few
natural tears. As there was no resisting her claim of acquaintance,
Waverley acknowledged it with a good grace, as well as the danger of his
own situation. 'As it's near the darkening, sir, wad ye just step in by
to our house and tak a dish o' tea? and I am sure if ye like to sleep in
the little room, I wad tak care ye are no disturbed, and naebody wad ken
ye; for Kate and Matty, the limmers, gaed aff wi' twa o' Hawley's
dragoons, and I hae twa new queans instead o' them.'

Waverley accepted her invitation, and engaged her lodging for a night or
two, satisfied he should be safer in the house of this simple creature
than anywhere else. When he entered the parlour his heart swelled to see
Fergus's bonnet, with the white cockade, hanging beside the little

'Ay,' said Mrs. Flockhart, sighing, as she observed the direction of his
eyes, 'the puir Colonel bought a new ane just the day before they
marched, and I winna let them tak that ane doun, but just to brush it
ilka day mysell; and whiles I look at it till I just think I hear him cry
to Callum to bring him his bonnet, as he used to do when he was ganging
out. It's unco silly--the neighbours ca' me a Jacobite, but they may say
their say--I am sure it's no for that--but he was as kind-hearted a
gentleman as ever lived, and as weel-fa'rd too. Oh, d'ye ken, sir, when
he is to suffer?'

'Suffer! Good heaven! Why, where is he?'

'Eh, Lord's sake! d'ye no ken? The poor Hieland body, Dugald Mahony, cam
here a while syne, wi' ane o' his arms cuttit off, and a sair clour in
the head--ye'll mind Dugald, he carried aye an axe on his shouther--and
he cam here just begging, as I may say, for something to eat. Aweel, he
tauld us the Chief, as they ca'd him (but I aye ca' him the Colonel), and
Ensign Maccombich, that ye mind weel, were ta'en somewhere beside the
English border, when it was sae dark that his folk never missed him till
it was ower late, and they were like to gang clean daft. And he said that
little Callum Beg (he was a bauld mischievous callant that) and your
honour were killed that same night in the tuilzie, and mony mae braw men.
But he grat when he spak o' the Colonel, ye never saw the like. And now
the word gangs the Colonel is to be tried, and to suffer wi' them that
were ta'en at Carlisle.'

'And his sister?'

'Ay, that they ca'd the Lady Flora--weel, she's away up to Carlisle to
him, and lives wi' some grand Papist lady thereabouts to be near him.'

'And,' said Edward,'the other young lady?'

'Whilk other? I ken only of ae sister the Colonel had.'

'I mean Miss Bradwardine,' said Edward.

'Ou, ay; the laird's daughter' said his landlady. 'She was a very bonny
lassie, poor thing, but far shyer than Lady Flora.'

'Where is she, for God's sake?'

'Ou, wha kens where ony o' them is now? puir things, they're sair ta'en
doun for their white cockades and their white roses; but she gaed north
to her father's in Perthshire, when the government troops cam back to
Edinbro'. There was some prettymen amang them, and ane Major Whacker was
quartered on me, a very ceevil gentleman,--but O, Mr. Waverley, he was
naething sae weel fa'rd as the puir Colonel.'

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