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Waverley by Walter Scott

Part 4 out of 11

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calls

Our bootless host of high-born beggars,
Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies, and Mac-Gregors.'

Waverley expressed his regret at the interruption.

'Oh, you cannot guess how much you have lost! The bard, as in
duty bound, has addressed three long stanzas to Vich Ian Vohr of
the Banners, enumerating all his great properties, and not
forgetting his being a cheerer of the harper and bard,--"a giver
of bounteous gifts." Besides, you should have heard a practical
admonition to the fair-haired son of the stranger, who lives in
the land where the grass is always green--the rider on the
shining pampered steed, whose hue is like the raven, and whose
neigh is like the scream of the eagle for battle. This valiant
horseman is affectionately conjured to remember that his
ancestors were distinguished by their loyalty, as well as by
their courage.--All this you have lost; but, since your curiosity
is not satisfied, I judge, from the distant sound of my brother's
whistle, I may have time to sing the concluding stanzas before he
comes to laugh at my translation.'

Awake on your hills, on your islands awake,
Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake!
'Tis the bugle--but not for the chase is the call;
'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons--but not to the hall.

'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death,
When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath:
They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe,
To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.

Be the brand of each Chieftain like Fin's in his ire!
May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire!
Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore,
Or die like your sires, and endure it no more!

CHAPTER XXIII

WAVERLEY CONTINUES AT GLENNAQUOICH

As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them. 'I knew I
should find you here, even without the assistance of my friend
Bran. A simple and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would
prefer a jet d'eau at Versailles to this cascade with all its
accompaniments of rock and roar; but this is Flora's Parnassus,
Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. It would be
greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could teach her
coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence: he has just
drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of
the claret.--Let me try its virtues.' He sipped a little water
in the hollow of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a
theatrical air,--

'O Lady of the desert, hail!
That lov'st the harping of the Gael,
Through fair and fertile regions borne,
Where never yet grew grass or corn.

But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a
Highland Helicon.--ALLONS, COURAGE!--

O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine,
A cette heureuse fontaine,
Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage,
Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
Suivis de nymphes de village,
Qui les escortent sans sabots'--

'A truce, dear Fergus! spare us those most tedious and insipid
persons of all Arcadia. Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down
Coridon and Lindor upon us.'

'Nay, if you cannot relish LA HOULETTE ET LE CHALUMEAU, have with
you in heroic strains.'

'Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of
Mac-Murrough's cup, rather than of mine.'

'I disclaim it, MA BELLE DEMOISELLE, although I protest it would
be the more congenial of the two. Which of your crackbrained
Italian romancers is it that says,

Io d'Elicona niente
Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'il bere d'acque
(Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque!
[Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon;
Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.]

But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little
Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu.--Come, Cathleen, ASTORE (i.e.
my dear), begin; no apologies to the CEANKINNE.'

Cathleen sang with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the
burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic
tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made
Waverley laugh more than once. [This ancient Gaelic ditty is
still well known, both in the Highlands and in Ireland. It was
translated into English, and published, if I mistake not, under
the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by the title of
'Colley, my Cow.']

'Admirable, Cathleen!' cried the Chieftain; 'I must find you a
handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days.'

Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her
companion.

In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain
warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to
see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland
gentlemen proposed to join. The charms of melody and beauty were
too strongly impressed in Edward's breast to permit his declining
an invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, therefore, that he
should write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his
intention to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him
to forward by the bearer (a GILLY of the Chieftain's) any letters
which might have arrived for him.

This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly
extolled as a gentleman and soldier. His character was touched
with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was
the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his
excellences and peculiarities. 'It is a character, Captain
Waverley, which is fast disappearing; for its best point was a
self-respect, which was never lost sight of till now. But, in
the present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not permit
them to pay court to the existing government are neglected and
degraded, and many conduct themselves accordingly; and, like some
of the persons you have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and
companions inconsistent with their birth and breeding. The
ruthless proscription of party seems to degrade the victims whom
it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope that a brighter day
is approaching, when a Scottish country-gentleman may be a
scholar without the pedantry of our friend the Baron; a
sportsman, without the low habits of Mr. Falconer; and a
judicious improver of his property, without becoming a boorish
two-legged steer like Killancureit."

Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has
produced, but in a manner very different from what she had in her
mind.

The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the warmest encomium on
her person, manners, and mind, 'That man,' said Flora, 'will find
an inestimable treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine,
who shall be so fortunate as to become their object. Her very
soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues
of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her
father now is--the object of all her care, solicitude, and
affection. She will see nothing, and connect herself with
nothing, but by him and through him. If he is a man of sense and
virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue,
and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a
churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for
she will not long survive his unkindness. And, alas, how great
is the chance that some such unworthy lot may be that of my poor
friend!--Oh, that I were a, queen this moment, and could command
the most amiable and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept
happiness with the hand of Rose Bradwardine!'

'I wish you would command her to accept mine EN ATTENDANT,' said
Fergus, laughing.

I don't know by what caprice it was that this wish, however
jocularly expressed, rather jarred on Edward's feelings,
notwithstanding his growing inclination to Flora, and his
indifference to Miss Bradwardine. This is one of the
inexplicabilities of human nature, which we leave without
comment.

'Yours, brother?' answered Flora, regarding him steadily. 'No;
you have another bride--Honour; and the dangers you must run in
pursuit of her rival would break poor Rose's heart.'

With this discourse they reached the castle, and Waverley soon
prepared his dispatches for Tully-Veolan. As he knew the Baron
was punctilious in such matters, he was about to impress his
billet with a seal on which his armorial bearings were engraved,
but he did not find it at his watch, and thought he must have
left it at Tully-Veolan. He mentioned his loss, borrowing at the
same time the family seal of the Chieftain.

'Surely,' said Miss Mac-Ivor, 'Donald Bean Lean would not--'

'My life for him, in such circumstances,' answered her brother;
--'besides, he would never have left the watch behind.'

'After all, Fergus,' said Flora,' and with every allowance, I am
surprised you can countenance that man.'

'I countenance him!--This kind sister of mine would persuade you,
Captain Waverley, that I take what the people of old used to call
"a steakraid," that is, a "collop of the foray," or, in plainer
words, a portion of the robber's booty, paid by him to the Laird,
or Chief, through whose grounds he drove his prey. Oh, it is
certain, that unless I can find some way to charm Flora's tongue,
General Blakeney will send a sergeant's party from Stirling (this
he said with haughty and emphatic irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohr,
as they nickname me, in his own castle.'

'Now, Fergus, must not our guest be sensible that all this is
folly and affectation? You have men enough to serve you without
enlisting a banditti, and your own honour is above taint.--Why
don't you send this Donald Bean Lean, whom I hate for his
smoothness and duplicity, even more than for his rapine, out of
your country at once? No cause should induce me to tolerate such
a character.'

'NO cause, Flora?' said the Chieftain, significantly.

'No cause, Fergus! not even that which is nearest to my heart.
Spare it the omen of such evil supporters!'

'Oh, but, sister,' rejoined the Chief, gaily, 'you don't consider
my respect for LA BELLE PASSION. Evan Dhu Maccombich is in love
with Donald's daughter, Alice, and you cannot expect me to
disturb him in his amours. Why, the whole clan would cry shame
on me. You know it is one of their wise sayings, that a kinsman
is part of a man's body, but a foster-brother is a piece of his
heart.'

'Well, Fergus, there is no disputing with you; but I would all
this may end well.'

'Devoutly prayed, my dear and prophetic sister, and the best way
in the world to close a dubious argument.--But hear ye not the
pipes, Captain Waverley? Perhaps you will like better to dance
to them in the hall, than to be deafened with their harmony
without taking part in the exercise they invite us to.'

Waverley took Flora's hand. The dance, song, and merry-making
proceeded, and closed the day's entertainment at the castle of
Vich Ian Vohr. Edward at length retired, his mind agitated by a
variety of new and conflicting feelings, which detained him from
rest for some time, in that not unpleasing state of mind in which
fancy takes the helm, and the soul rather drifts passively along
with the rapid and confused tide of reflections, than exerts
itself to encounter, systematize, or examine them. At a late
hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac-Ivor.

CHAPTER XXIV

A STAG-HUNT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

Shall this be a long or a short chapter?--This is a question in
which you, gentle reader, have no vote, however much you may be
interested in the consequences; just as you may (like myself)
probably have nothing to do with the imposing a new tax,
excepting the trifling circumstance of being obliged to pay it.
More happy surely in the present case, since, though it lies
within my arbitrary power to extend my materials as I think
proper, I cannot call you into Exchequer if you do not think
proper to read my narrative. Let me therefore consider. It is
true, that the annals and documents in my hands say but little of
this Highland chase; but then I can find copious materials for
description elsewhere. There is old Lindsay of Pitscottie ready
at my elbow, with his Athole hunting, and his 'lofted and joisted
palace of green timber; with all kind of drink to be had in burgh
and land, as ale, beer, wine, muscadel, malvaise, hippocras, and
aquavitae; with wheat-bread, main-bread, ginge-bread, beef,
mutton, lamb, veal, venison, goose, grice, capon, coney, crane,
swan, partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissel-cock, pawnies,
black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies;' not forgetting the
'costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry,' and least of all the
'excelling stewards, cunning barters, excellent cooks, and
pottingars, with confections and drugs for the desserts.'
Besides the particulars which may be thence gleaned for this
Highland feast (the splendour of which induced the Pope's legate
to dissent from an opinion which he had hitherto held, that
Scotland, namely, was the--the--the latter end of the world)--
besides these, might I not illuminate my pages with Taylor the
Water Poet's hunting in the braes of Mar, where,

Through heather, mosse, 'mong frogs, and bogs, and fogs,
'Mongst craggy cliffs and thunder-battered hills,
Hares, hinds, bucks, roes, are chased by men and dogs,
Where two hours' hunting fourscore fat deer kills.
Lowland, your sports are low as is your seat;
The Highland games and minds are high and great.

But without further tyranny over my readers, or display of the
extent of my own reading, I shall content myself with borrowing a
single incident from the memorable hunting at Lude, commemorated
in the ingenious Mr. Gunn's Essay on the Caledonian Harp, and so
proceed in my story with all the brevity that my natural style of
composition, partaking of what scholars call the periphrastic and
ambagitory, and the vulgar the circumbendibus, will permit me.

The solemn hunting was delayed, from various causes, for about
three weeks. The interval was spent by Waverley with great
satisfaction at Glennaquoich; for the impression which Flora had
made on his mind at their first meeting grew daily stronger. She
was precisely the character to fascinate a youth of romantic
imagination. Her manners, her language, her talents for poetry
and music, gave additional and varied influence to her eminent
personal charms. Even in her hours of gaiety, she was in his
fancy exalted above the ordinary daughters of Eve, and seemed
only to stoop for an instant to those topics of amusement and
gallantry which others appear to live for. In the neighbourhood
of this enchantress, while sport consumed the morning, and music
and the dance led on the hours of evening, Waverley became daily
more delighted with his hospitable landlord, and more enamoured
of his bewitching sister.

At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting arrived, and
Waverley and the Chieftain departed for the place of rendezvous,
which was a day's journey to the northward of Glennaquoich.
Fergus was attended on this occasion by about three hundred of
his clan, well armed, and accoutred in their best fashion.
Waverley complied so far with the custom of the country as to
adopt the trews (he could not be reconciled to the kilt),
brogues, and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise in
which he was to be engaged, and which least exposed him to be
stared at as a stranger when they should reach the place of
rendez-vous. They found, on the spot appointed, several powerful
Chiefs, to all of whom Waverley was formally presented, and by
all cordially received. Their vassals and clansmen, a part of
whose feudal duty it was to attend on these parties, appeared in
such numbers as amounted to a small army. These active
assistants spread through the country far and near, forming a
circle, technically called the TINCHEL, which, gradually closing,
drove the deer in herds together towards the glen where the
Chiefs and principal sportsmen lay in wait for them. In the
meanwhile, these distinguished personages bivouacked among the
flowery heath, wrapped up in their plaids; a mode of passing a
summer's night which Waverley found by no means unpleasant.

For many hours after sunrise, the mountain ridges and passes
retained their ordinary appearance of silence and solitude; and
the Chiefs, with their followers, amused themselves with various
pastimes, in which the joys of the shell, as Ossian has it, were
not forgotten. 'Others apart sat on a hill retired;' probably as
deeply engaged in the discussion of politics and news, as
Milton's spirits in metaphysical disquisition. At length signals
of the approach of the game were descried and heard. Distant
shouts resounded from valley to valley, as the various parties of
Highlanders, climbing rocks, struggling through copses, wading
brooks, and traversing thickets, approached more and more near to
each other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the other
wild animals that fled before them, into a narrower circuit.
Every now and then the report of muskets was heard, repeated by a
thousand echoes. The baying of the dogs was soon added to the
chorus, which grew ever louder and more loud. At length the
advanced parties of the deer began to show themselves; and as the
stragglers came bounding down the pass by two or three at a time,
the Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing the fattest deer,
and their dexterity in bringing them down with their guns.
Fergus exhibited remarkable address, and Edward was also so
fortunate as to attract the notice and applause of the sportsmen.

But now the main body of the deer appeared at the head of the
glen, compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a
formidable phalanx, that their antlers appeared at a distance,
over the ridge of the steep pass, like a leafless grove. Their
number was very great, and from a desperate stand which they
made, with the tallest of the red-deer stags arranged in front,
in a sort of battle array, gazing on the group which barred their
passage down the glen, the more experienced sportsmen began to
augur danger. The work of destruction, however, now commenced on
all sides. Dogs and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees
resounded from every quarter. The deer, driven to desperation,
made at length a fearful charge right upon the spot where the
more distinguished sportsmen had taken their stand. The word was
given in Gaelic to fling themselves upon their faces; but
Waverley, on whose English ears the signal was lost, had almost
fallen a sacrifice to his ignorance of the ancient language in
which it was communicated. Fergus, observing his danger, sprang
up and pulled him with violence to the ground, just as the whole
herd broke down upon them. The tide being absolutely
irresistible, and wounds from a stag's horn highly dangerous, the
activity of the Chieftain may be considered, on this occasion, as
having saved his guest's life. [The thrust from the tynes, or
branches, of the stag's horns, was accounted far more dangerous
than those of the boar's tusk:--

If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it brings thee to thy bier,
But barber's hand shall boar's hurt heal; thereof have thou no
fear.]

He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of deer
had fairly run over them. Waverley then attempted to rise, but
found that he had suffered several very severe contusions; and,
upon a further examination, discovered that he had sprained his
ankle violently.

This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the Highlanders,
accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had suffered
no harm themselves. A wigwam was erected almost in an instant,
where Edward was deposited on a couch of heather. The surgeon,
or he who assumed the office, appeared to unite the characters of
a leech and a conjurer. He was an old smoke-dried Highlander,
wearing a venerable grey beard, and having for his sole garment a
tartan frock, the skirts of which descended to the knee; and,
being undivided in front, made the vestment serve at once for
doublet and breeches. [This garb, which resembled the dress
often put on children in Scotland, called a polonie (i.e.
polonaise), is a very ancient modification of the Highland garb.
It was, in fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, only composed of
cloth instead of rings of armour.] He observed great ceremony in
approaching Edward; and though our hero was writhing with pain,
would not proceed to any operation which might assuage it until
he had perambulated his couch three times, moving from east to
west, according to the course of the sun. This, which was called
making the DEASIL, [Old Highlanders will still make the deasil
around those whom they wish well to. To go round a person in the
opposite direction, or wither-shins (German WIDER-SHINS), is
unlucky, and a sort of incantation.] both the leech and the
assistants seemed to consider as a matter of the last importance
to the accomplishment of a cure; and Waverley, whom pain rendered
incapable of expostulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its
being attended to, submitted in silence.

After this ceremony was duly performed, the old Esculapius let
his patient blood with a cupping-glass with great dexterity, and
proceeded, muttering all the while to himself in Gaelic, to boil
on the fire certain herbs, with which he compounded an
embrocation. He then fomented the parts which had sustained
injury, never failing to murmur prayers or spells, which of the
two Waverley could not distinguish, as his ear only caught the
words GASPER-MELCHIOR-BALTHAZAR-MAX-PRAX-FAX, and similar
gibberish. The fomentation had a speedy effect in alleviating
the pain and swelling, which our hero imputed to the virtue of
the herbs, or the effect of the chafing, but which was by the
bystanders unanimously ascribed to the spells with which the
operation had been accompanied. Edward was given to understand,
that not one of the ingredients had been gathered except during
the full moon, and that the herbalist had, while collecting them,
uniformly recited a charm, which in English ran thus:--

Hail to thee, thou holy herb,
That sprung on holy ground!
All in the Mount Olivet
First wert thou found:
Thou art boot for many a bruise,
And healest many a wound;
In our Lady's blessed name,
I take thee from the ground.'
[This metrical spell, or something very like it, is preserved
by Reginald Scott, in his work on Witchcraft.]

Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fergus,
notwithstanding his knowledge and education, seemed to fall in
with the superstitious ideas of his countrymen, either because he
deemed it impolitic to affect scepticism on a matter of general
belief, or more probably because, like most men who do not think
deeply or accurately on such subjects, he had in his mind a
reserve of superstition which balanced the freedom of his
expressions and practice upon other occasions. Waverley made no
commentary, therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but
rewarded the professor of medicine with a liberality beyond the
utmost conception of his wildest hopes. He uttered, on the
occasion, so many incoherent blessings in Gaelic and English,
that Mac-Ivor, rather scandalized at the excess of his
acknowledgements, cut them short, by exclaiming, 'CEUD MILE
MHALLOICH ART ORT!' i.e. 'A hundred thousand curses on you!'
and so pushed the helper of men out of the cabin.

After Waverley was left alone, the exhaustion of pain and
fatigue,--for the whole day's exercise had been severe,--threw
him into a profound, but yet a feverish sleep, which he chiefly
owed to an opiate draught administered by the old Highlander from
some decoction of herbs in his pharmacopoeia.

Early the next morning, the purpose of their meeting being over,
and their sports damped by the untoward accident, in which Fergus
and all his friends expressed the greatest sympathy, it became a
question how to dispose of the disabled sportsman. This was
settled by Mac-Ivor, who had a litter prepared, of 'birch and
hazel grey,'

[On the morrow they made their biers,
of birch and hazel grey.--CHEVY CHASE.]

which was borne by his people with such caution and
dexterity as renders it not improbable that they may have been
the ancestors of some of those sturdy Gael, who have now the
happiness to transport the belles of Edinburgh, in their sedan
chairs, to ten routs in one evening. When Edward was elevated
upon their shoulders, he could not help being gratified with the
romantic effect produced by the breaking up of this sylvan camp.
[The author has been sometimes accused of confounding fiction
with reality. He therefore thinks it necessary to state, that
the circumstance of the hunting described in the text as
preparatory to the insurrection of 1745, is, so far as he knows,
entirely imaginary. But it is well known such a great hunting
was held in the Forest of Braemar, under the auspices of the
Earl of Mar, as preparatory to the Rebellion of 1715; and most
of the Highland Chieftains who afterwards engaged in that civil
commotion were present on this occasion.]

The various tribes assembled, each at the pibroch of their native
clan, and each headed by their patriarchal ruler. Some, who had
already begun to retire, were seen winding up the hills, or
descending the passes which led to the scene of action, the sound
of their bagpipes dying upon the ear. Others made still a moving
picture upon the narrow plain, forming various changeful groups,
their feathers and loose plaids waving in the morning breeze, and
their arms glittering in the rising sun. Most of the Chiefs came
to take farewell of Waverley, and to express their anxious hope
they might again, and speedily, meet; but the care of Fergus
abridged the ceremony of taking leave. At length, his own men
being completely assembled and mustered. Mac-Ivor commenced his
march, but not towards the quarter from which they had come. He
gave Edward to understand, that the greater part of his
followers, now on the field, were bound on a distant expedition,
and that when he had deposited him in the house of a gentleman,
who he was sure would pay him every attention, he himself should
be under the necessity of accompanying them the greater part of
the way, but would lose no time in rejoining his friend.

Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not mentioned this
ulterior destination when they set out upon the hunting-party;
but his situation did not admit of many interrogatories. The
greater part of the clansmen went forward under the guidance of
old Ballenkeiroch and Evan Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high
spirits. A few remained for the purpose of escorting the
Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward's litter, and
attended him with the most affectionate assiduity. About noon,
after a journey which the nature of the conveyance, the pain of
his bruises, and the roughness of the way, rendered inexpressibly
painful, Waverley was hospitably received into the house of a
gentleman related to Fergus, who had prepared for him every
accommodation which the simple habits of living, then universal
in the Highlands, put in his power. In this person, an old man
about seventy, Edward admired a relic of primitive simplicity.
He wore no dress but what his estate afforded. The cloth was the
fleece of his own sheep, woven by his own servants, and stained
into tartan by the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens of
the hills around him. His linen was spun by his daughters and
maid-servants, from his own flax, nor did his table, though
plentiful, and varied with game and fish, offer an article but
what was of native produce.

Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, he was
fortunate in the alliance and protection of Vich Ian Vohr and
other bold and enterprising Chieftains, who protected him in the
quiet unambitious life he loved. It is true, the youth born on
his grounds were often enticed to leave him for the service of
his more active friends; but a few old servants and tenants used
to shake their grey locks when they heard their master censured
for want of spirit, and observed, 'When the wind is still, the
shower falls soft.' This good old man, whose charity and
hospitality were unbounded, would have received Waverley with
kindness, had he been the meanest Saxon peasant, since his
situation required assistance. But his attention to a friend and
guest of Vich Ian Vohr was anxious and unremitted. Other
embrocations were applied to the injured limb, and new spells
were put in practice. At length, after more solicitude than was
perhaps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took farewell of
Edward for a few days, when, he said, he would return to
Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Waverley would be able to ride
one of the Highland ponies of his landlord, and in that manner
return to Glennaquoich.

The next day, when his good old host appeared, Edward learned
that his friend had departed with the dawn, leaving none of his
followers except Callum Beg, the sort of foot-page who used to
attend his person, and who had it now in charge to wait upon
Waverley. On asking his host if he knew where the Chieftain was
gone, the old man looked fixedly at him, with something
mysterious and sad in the smile which was his only reply.
Waverley repeated his question, to which his host answered in a
proverb,--

What sent the messengers to hell,
Was asking what they knew full well.'
[Corresponding to the Lowland saying, 'Mony ane speirs the
gate they ken fu' weel.]

He was about to proceed, but Callum Beg said, rather pertly, as
Edward thought, that 'Ta Tighearnach (i.e. the Chief) did not
like ta Sassenagh Duinhe-wassel to be pingled wi' mickle
speaking, as she was na tat weel.' From this Waverley concluded
he should disoblige his friend by inquiring of a stranger the
object of a journey which he himself had not communicated.

It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero's recovery.
The sixth morning had arrived, and he was able to walk about with
a staff, when Fergus returned with about a score of his men. He
seemed in the highest spirits, congratulated Waverley on his
progress towards recovery, and finding he was able to sit on
horseback, proposed their immediate return to Glennaquoich,
Waverley joyfully acceded, for the form of his fair mistress had
lived in his dreams during all the time of his confinement.

Now he has ridden o'er moor and moss,
O'er hill and many a glen.

Fergus, all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly by
his side, or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath-cock.
Waverley's bosom beat thick when they approached the old tower of
Ian nan Chaistel, and could distinguish the fair form of its
mistress advancing to meet them.

Fergus began immediately, with his usual high spirits, to
exclaim, 'Open your gates, incomparable princess, to the wounded
Moor Abindarez, whom Rodrigo de Narvez, constable of Antiquera,
conveys to your castle; or open them, if you like it better, to
the renowned Marquis of Mantua, the sad attendant of his half-
slain friend, Baldovinos of the Mountain.--Ah, long rest to thy
soul, Cervantes! without quoting thy remnants, how should I
frame my language to befit romantic ears!'

Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with much kindness,
expressed her regret for his accident, of which she had already
heard the particulars, and her surprise that her brother should
not have taken better care to put a stranger on his guard against
the perils of the sport in which he engaged him. Edward easily
exculpated the Chieftain, who, indeed, at his own personal risk,
had probably saved his life.

This greeting over, Fergus said three or four words to his sister
in Gaelic. The tears instantly sprang to her eyes, but they
seemed to be tears of devotion and joy, for she looked up to
heaven, and folded her hands as in a solemn expression of prayer
or gratitude. After the pause of a minute, she presented to
Edward some letters which had been forwarded from Tully-Veolan
during his absence, and, at the same time, delivered some to her
brother. To the latter she likewise gave three or four numbers
of the CALEDONIAN MERCURY, the only newspaper which was then
published to the north of the Tweed.

Both gentlemen retired to examine their dispatches, and Edward
speedily found that those which he had received contained matters
of very deep interest.

CHAPTER XXV

NEWS FROM ENGLAND

The letters which Waverley had hitherto received from his
relations in England, were not such as required any particular
notice in this narrative. His father usually wrote to him with
the pompous affectation of one who was too much oppressed by
public affairs to find leisure to attend to those of his own
family. Now and then he mentioned persons of rank in Scotland to
whom he wished his son should pay some attention; but Waverley,
hitherto occupied by the amusements which he had found at Tully-
Veolan and Glennaquoich, dispensed with paying any attention to
hints so coldly thrown out, especially as distance, shortness of
leave of absence, and so forth, furnished a ready apology. But
latterly the burden of Mr. Richard Waverley's paternal epistles
consisted in certain mysterious hints of greatness and influence
which he was speedily to attain, and which would ensure his son's
obtaining the most rapid promotion, should he remain in the
military service. Sir Everard's letters were of a different
tenor. They were short; for the good Baronet was none of your
illimitable correspondents, whose manuscript overflows the folds
of their large post paper, and leaves no room for the seal; but
they were kind and affectionate, and seldom concluded without
some allusion to our hero's stud, some question about the state
of his purse, and a special inquiry after such of his recruits as
had preceded him from Waverley-Honour. Aunt Rachel charged him
to remember his principles of religion, to take care of his
health, to beware of Scotch mists, which, she had heard, would
wet an Englishman through and through; never to go out at night
without his great-coat; and, above all, to wear flannel next to
his skin.

Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but it was of the
bulk of six epistles of these degenerate days, containing, in the
moderate compass of ten folio pages, closely written, a precis of
a supplementary quarto manuscript of ADDENDA, DELENDA, ET
CORRIGENDA, in reference to the two tracts with which he had
presented Waverley. This he considered as a mere sop in the pan
to stay the appetite of Edward's curiosity, until he should find
an opportunity of sending down the volume itself, which was much
too heavy for the post, and which he proposed to accompany with
certain interesting pamphlets, lately published by his friend in
Little Britain, with whom he had kept up a sort of literary
correspondence, in virtue of which the library shelves of
Waverley-Honour were loaded with much trash, and a good round
bill, seldom summed in fewer than three figures, was yearly
transmitted, in which Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley-Honour,
Bart., was marked Dr. to Jonathan Grubbet, bookseller and
stationer, Little Britain. Such had hitherto been the style of
the letters which Edward had received from England; but the
packet delivered to him at Glennaquoich was of a different and
more interesting complexion. It would be impossible for the
reader, even were I to insert the letters at full length, to
comprehend the real cause of their being written, without a
glance into the interior of the British Cabinet at the period in
question.

The Ministers of the day happened (no very singular event) to be
divided into two parties; the weakest of which, making up by
assiduity of intrigue their inferiority in real consequence, had
of late acquired some new proselytes, and with them the hope of
superseding their rivals in the favour of their sovereign, and
overpowering them in the House of Commons. Amongst others, they
had thought it worth while to practise upon Richard Waverley.
This honest gentleman, by a grave mysterious demeanour, an
attention to the etiquette of business, rather more than to its
essence, a facility in making long dull speeches, consisting of
truisms and commonplaces, hashed up with a technical jargon of
office, which prevented the inanity of his orations from being
discovered, had acquired a certain name and credit in public
life, and even established, with many, the character of a
profound politician; none of your shining orators, indeed, whose
talents evaporate in tropes of rhetoric and dashes of wit, but
one possessed of steady parts for business, which would wear
well, as the ladies say in choosing their silks, and ought in all
reason to be good for common and everyday use, since they were
confessedly formed of no holiday texture.

This faith had become so general, that the insurgent party in the
Cabinet of which we have made mention, after sounding Mr. Richard
Waverley, were so satisfied with his sentiments and abilities, as
to propose, that, in case of a certain revolution in the
ministry, he should take an ostensible place in the new order of
things, not indeed of the very first rank, but greatly higher, in
point both of emolument and influence, than that which he now
enjoyed. There was no resisting so tempting a proposal,
notwithstanding that the Great Man, under whose patronage he had
enlisted and by whose banner he had hitherto stood firm, was the
principal object of the proposed attack by the new allies.
Unfortunately this fair scheme of ambition was blighted in the
very bud, by a premature movement. All the official gentlemen
concerned in it, who hesitated to take the part of a voluntary
resignation, were informed that the king had no further occasion
for their services; and, in Richard Waverley's case, which the
Minister considered as aggravated by ingratitude; dismissal was
accompanied by something like personal contempt and contumely.
The public, and even the party of whom he shared the fall,
sympathized little in the disappointment of this selfish and
interested statesman; and he retired to the country under the
comfortable reflection, that he had lost, at the same time,
character, credit, and,--what he at least equally deplored,--
emolument.

Richard Waverley's letter to his son upon this occasion was a
masterpiece of its kind. Aristides himself could not have made
out a harder case. An unjust monarch, and an ungrateful country,
were the burden of each rounded paragraph. He spoke of long
services, and unrequited sacrifices; though the former had been
overpaid by his salary, and nobody could guess in what the latter
consisted, unless it were in his deserting, not from conviction,
but for the lucre of gain, the Tory principles of his family. In
the conclusion, his resentment was wrought to such an excess by
the force of his own oratory, that he could not repress some
threats of vengeance, however vague and impotent, and finally
acquainted his son with his pleasure that he should testify his
sense of the ill-treatment he had sustained, by throwing up his
commission as soon as the letter reached him. This, he said, was
also his uncle's desire, as he would himself intimate in due
course.

Accordingly, the next letter which Edward opened was from Sir
Everard. His brother's disgrace seemed to have removed from his
well-natured bosom all recollection of their differences, and,
remote as he was from every means of learning that Richard's
disgrace was in reality only the just, as well as natural
consequence, of his own unsuccessful intrigues, the good but
credulous Baronet at once set it down as a new and enormous
instance of the injustice of the existing Government. It was
true, he said, and he must not disguise it even from Edward, that
his father could not have sustained such an insult as was now,
for the first time, offered to one of his house, unless he had
subjected himself to it by accepting of an employment under the
present system. Sir Everard had no doubt that he now both saw
and felt the magnitude of this error, and it should be his (Sir
Everard's) business, to take care that the cause of his regret
should not extend itself to pecuniary consequences. It was
enough for a Waverley to have sustained the public disgrace; the
patrimonial injury could easily be obviated by the head of their
family. But it was both the opinion of Mr. Richard Waverley and
his own, that Edward, the representative of the family of
Waverley-Honour, should not remain in a situation which subjected
him also to such treatment as that with which his father had been
stigmatized. He requested his nephew therefore to take the
fittest, and, at the same time, the most speedy opportunity, of
transmitting his resignation to the War-Office, and hinted,
moreover, that little ceremony was necessary where so little had
been used to his father. He sent multitudinous greetings to the
Baron of Bradwardine.

A letter from Aunt Rachel spoke out even more plainly. She
considered the disgrace of brother Richard as the just reward of
his forfeiting his allegiance to a lawful, though exiled
sovereign, and taking the oaths to an alien; a concession which
her grandfather, Sir Nigel Waverley, refused to make, either to
the Roundhead Parliament or to Cromwell, when his life and
fortune stood in the utmost extremity. She hoped her dear Edward
would follow the footsteps of his ancestors, and as speedily as
possible get rid of the badge of servitude to the usurping
family, and regard the wrongs sustained by his father as an
admonition from Heaven, that every desertion of the line of
loyalty becomes its own punishment. She also concluded with her
respects to Mr. Bradwardine, and begged Waverley would inform her
whether his daughter, Miss Rose, was old enough to wear a pair of
very handsome ear-rings, which she proposed to send as a token of
her affection. The good lady also desired to be informed whether
Mr. Bradwardine took as much Scotch snuff, and danced as
unweariedly, as he did when he was at Waverley-Honour about
thirty years ago.

These letters, as might have been expected, highly excited
Waverley's indignation. From the desultory style of his studies,
he had not any fixed political opinion to place in opposition to
the movements of indignation which he felt at his father's
supposed wrongs. Of the real cause of his disgrace, Edward was
totally ignorant; nor had his habits at all led him to
investigate the politics of the period in which he lived, or
remark the intrigues in which his father had been so actively
engaged. Indeed, any impressions which he had accidentally
adopted concerning the parties of the times, were (owing to the
society in which he had lived at Waverley-Honour) of a nature
rather unfavourable to the existing government and dynasty. He
entered, therefore, without hesitation, into the resentful
feeling of the relations who had the best title to dictate his
conduct; and not perhaps the less willingly, when he remembered
the tedium of his quarters, and the inferior figure which he had
made among the officers of his regiment. If he could have had
any doubt upon the subject, it would have been decided by the
following letter from his commanding-officer, which, as it is
very short, shall be inserted verbatim:--

'SIR,

'Having carried somewhat beyond the line of my duty an indulgence
which even the lights of nature, and much more those of
Christianity, direct towards errors which may arise from youth
and inexperience, and that altogether without effect, I am
reluctantly compelled, at the present crisis, to use the only
remaining remedy which is in my power. You are therefore, hereby
commanded to repair to --, the head-quarters of the regiment,
within three days after the date of this letter. If you shall
fail to do so, I must report you to the War-Office as absent
without leave, and also take other steps, which will be
disagreeable to you, as well as to, Sir,

'Your obedient Servant,
J. GARDINER, Lieut.-Col.
'Commanding the -- Regt. Dragoons.'

Edward's blood boiled within him as he read this letter. He had
been accustomed from his very infancy to possess, in a great
measure, the disposal of his own time, and thus acquired habits
which rendered the rules of military discipline as unpleasing to
him in this as they were in some other respects. An idea that in
his own case they would not be enforced in a very rigid manner
had also obtained full possession of his mind, and had hitherto
been sanctioned by the indulgent conduct of his lieutenant-
colonel. Neither had anything occurred, to his knowledge, that
should have induced his commanding-officer, without any other
warning than the hints we noticed at the end of the fourteenth
chapter, so suddenly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemed it,
so insolent a tone of dictatorial authority. Connecting it with
the letters he had just received from his family, he could not
but suppose that it was designed to make him feel, in his present
situation, the same pressure of authority which had been
exercised in his father's case, and that the whole was a
concerted scheme to depress and degrade every member of the
Waverley family.

Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold lines,
thanking his lieutenant-colonel for past civilities, and
expressing regret that he should have chosen to efface the
remembrance of them, by assuming a different tone towards him.
The strain of his letter, as well as what he (Edward) conceived
to be his duty, in the present crisis, called upon him to lay
down his commission; and he therefore enclosed the formal
resignation of a situation which subjected him to so unpleasant a
correspondence, and requested Colonel Gardiner would have the
goodness to forward it to the proper authorities.

Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt somewhat
uncertain concerning the terms in which his resignation ought to
be expressed, upon which subject he resolved to consult Fergus
Mac-Ivor. It may be observed in passing, that the bold and
prompt habits of thinking, acting, and speaking, which
distinguished this young Chieftain, had given him a considerable
ascendancy over the mind of Waverley. Endowed with at least
equal powers of understanding, and with much finer genius, Edward
yet stooped to the bold and decisive activity of an intellect
which was sharpened by the habit of acting on a preconceived and
regular system, as well as by extensive knowledge of the world.

When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in his hand
the newspaper which he had perused, and advanced to meet him with
the embarrassment of one who has unpleasing news to communicate.
'Do your letters, Captain Waverley, confirm the unpleasing
information which I find in this paper?'

He put the paper into his hand, where his father's disgrace was
registered in the most bitter terms, transferred probably from
some London journal. At the end of the paragraph was this
remarkable innuendo:--

'We understand, that "this same RICHARD, who hath done all this,"
is not the only example of the WAVERING HONOUR of W-v-rl-y H-n-r.
See the GAZETTE of this day.'

With hurried and feverish apprehension our hero turned to the
place referred to, and found therein recorded, 'Edward Waverley,
captain in -- regiment dragoons, superseded for absence without
leave:' and in the list of military promotions, referring to the
same regiment, he discovered this further article, 'Lieut. Julius
Butler, to be captain, vice Edward Waverley, superseded.'

Our hero's bosom glowed with the resentment which undeserved and
apparently premeditated insult was calculated to excite in the
bosom of one who had aspired after honour, and was thus wantonly
held up to public scorn and disgrace. Upon comparing the date of
his colonel's letter with that of the article in the GAZETTE, he
perceived that his threat of making a report upon his absence had
been literally fulfilled, and without inquiry, as it seemed,
whether Edward had either received his summons, or was disposed
to comply with it. The whole, therefore, appeared a formed plan
to degrade him in the eyes of the public; and the idea of its
having succeeded filled him with such bitter emotions, that,
after various attempts to conceal them, he at length threw
himself into Mac-Ivor's arms, and gave vent to tears of shame and
indignation.

It was none of this Chieftain's faults to be indifferent to the
wrongs of his friends; and for Edward, independent of certain
plans with which he was connected, he felt a deep and sincere
interest. The proceeding appeared as extraordinary to him as it
had done to Edward. He indeed knew of more motives than Waverley
was privy to, for the peremptory order that he should join his
regiment. But that, without further inquiry into the
circumstances of a necessary delay, the commanding officer, in
contradiction to his known and established character, should have
proceeded in so harsh and unusual a manner, was a mystery which
he could not penetrate. He soothed our hero, however, to the
best of his power, and began to turn his thoughts on revenge for
his insulted honour.

Edward eagerly grasped at the idea. 'Will you carry a message
for me to Colonel Gardiner, my dear Fergus, and oblige me for
ever?'

Fergus paused. 'It is an act of friendship which you should
command, could it be useful, or lead to the righting your honour;
but in the present case, I doubt if your commanding-officer would
give you the meeting on account of his having taken measures,
which, however harsh and exasperating, were still within the
strict bounds of his duty. Besides, Gardiner is a precise
Huguenot, and has adopted certain ideas about the sinfulness of
such rencontres, from which it would be impossible to make him
depart, especially as his courage is beyond all suspicion. And
besides, I--I--to say the truth--I dare not at this moment, for
some very weighty reasons, go near any of the military quarters
or garrisons belonging to this government.'

'And am I,' said Waverley, 'to sit down quiet and contented under
the injury I have received?'

'That will I never advise, my friend,' replied Mac-Ivor. 'But I
would have vengeance to fall on the head, not on the hand; on the
tyrannical and oppressive Government which designed and directed
these premeditated and reiterated insults, not on the tools of
office which they employed in the execution of the injuries they
aimed at you.'

'On the Government!' said Waverley.

'Yes,' replied the impetuous Highlander, 'on the usurping House
of Hanover, whom your grandfather would no more have served than
he would have taken wages of red-hot gold from the great fiend of
hell!'

'But since the time of my grandfather, two generations of this
dynasty have possessed the throne,' said Edward, coolly.

'True,' replied the Chieftain; 'and because we have passively
given them so long the means of showing their native character,
--because both you and I myself have lived in quiet submission,
have even truckled to the times so far as to accept commissions
under them, and thus have given them an opportunity of disgracing
us publicly by resuming them,--are we not on that account to
resent injuries which our fathers only apprehended, but which we
have actually sustained? Or is the cause of the unfortunate
Stuart family become less just, because their title has devolved
upon an heir who is innocent of the charges of misgovernment
brought against his father? Do you remember the lines of your
favourite poet?--

Had Richard unconstrained resigned the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own;
The title stood entailed had Richard had a son.

You see, my dear Waverley, I can quote poetry as well as Flora
and you. But come, clear your moody brow, and trust to me to
show you an honourable road to a speedy and glorious revenge.
Let us seek Flora, who perhaps has more news to tell us of what
has occurred during our absence. She will rejoice to hear that
you are relieved of your servitude. But first add a postcript to
your letter, marking the time when you received this
calvinistical Colonel's first summons, and express your regret
that the hastiness of his proceedings prevented your anticipating
them by sending your resignation. Then let him blush for his
injustice.'

The letter was sealed accordingly, covering a formal resignation
of the commission, and Mac-Ivor dispatched it with some letters
of his own by a special messenger, with charge to put them into
the nearest post office in the Lowlands.

CHAPTER XXVI

AN ECLAIRCISSEMENT

The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out respecting Flora was
not unpremeditated. He had observed with great satisfaction the
growing attachment of Waverley to his sister, nor did he see any
bar to their union, excepting the situation which Waverley's
father held in the ministry, and Edward's own commission in the
army of George II. These obstacles were now removed, and in a
manner which apparently paved the way for the son's becoming
reconciled to another allegiance. In every other respect the
match would be most eligible. The safety, happiness, and
honourable provision of his sister, whom he dearly loved,
appeared to be ensured by the proposed union; and his heart
swelled when he considered how his own interest would be exalted
in the eyes of the ex-monarch to whom he had dedicated his
service, by an alliance with one of those ancient, powerful, and
wealthy English families of the steady Cavalier faith, to awaken
whose decayed attachment to the Stuart family was now a matter of
such vital importance to the Stuart cause. Nor could Fergus
perceive any obstacle to such a scheme. Waverley's attachment
was evident; and as his person was handsome, and his taste
apparently coincided with her own, he anticipated no opposition
on the part of Flora. Indeed, between his ideas of patriarchal
power, and those which he had acquired in France respecting the
disposal of females in marriage, any opposition from his sister,
dear as she was to him, would have been the last obstacle on
which he would have calculated, even had the union been less
eligible.

Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Waverley in quest
of Miss Mac-Ivor, not without the hope that the present agitation
of his guest's spirits might give him courage to cut short what
Fergus termed the romance of the courtship. They found Flora,
with her faithful attendants, Una and Cathleen, busied in
preparing what appeared to Waverley to be white bridal favours.
Disguising as well as he could the agitation of his mind,
Waverley asked for what joyful occasion Miss Mac-Ivor made such
ample preparation.

'It is for Fergus's bridal,' she said, smiling.

'Indeed!' said Edward; 'he has kept his secret well. I hope he
will allow me to be his bride's-man.'

'That is a man's office, but not yours, as Beatrice says,'
retorted Flora.

'And who is the fair lady, may I be permitted to ask, Miss Mac-
Ivor?'

'Did not I tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no bride but
Honour?' answered Flora.

'And am I then incapable of being his assistant and counsellor in
the pursuit of honour?' said our hero, colouring deeply. 'Do I
rank so low in your opinion?'

'Far from it, Captain Waverley. I would to God you were of our
determination! and made use of the expression which displeased
you, solely

Because you are not of our quality,
But stand against us as an enemy.

'That time is past, sister,' said Fergus; 'and you may wish
Edward Waverley (no longer captain) joy of being freed from the
slavery to an usurper, implied in that sable and ill-omened
emblem.'

'Yes,' said Waverley, undoing the cockade from his hat, 'it has
pleased the king who bestowed this badge upon me, to resume it in
a manner which leaves me little reason to regret his service.'

'Thank God for that!' cried the enthusiast;--'and oh that they
may be blind enough to treat every man of honour who serves them
with the same indignity, that I may have less to sigh for when
the struggle approaches!

'And now, sister,' said the Chieftain, 'replace his cockade with
one of a more lively colour, I think it was the fashion of the
ladies of yore to arm and send forth their knights to high
achievement.'

'Not,' replied the lady, 'till the knight adventurer had well
weighed the justice and the danger of the cause, Fergus. Mr.
Waverley is just now too much agitated by feelings of recent
emotion, for me to press upon him a resolution of consequence.'

Waverley felt half alarmed at the thought of adopting the badge
of what was by the majority of the kingdom esteemed rebellion,
yet he could not disguise his chagrin at the coldness with which
Flora parried her brother's hint. 'Miss Mac-Ivor, I perceive,
thinks the knight unworthy of her encouragement and favour,' said
he, somewhat bitterly.

'Not so, Mr. Waverley,' she replied, with great sweetness. 'Why
should I refuse my brother's valued friend a boon which I am
distributing to his whole clan? Most willingly would I enlist
every man of honour in the cause to which my brother has devoted
himself. But Fergus has taken his measures with his eyes open.
His life has been devoted to this cause from his cradle; with him
its call is sacred, were it even a summons to the tomb. But how
can I wish you, Mr. Waverley, so new to the world, so far from
every friend who might advise and ought to influence you,--in a
moment too of sudden pique and indignation,--how can I wish you
to plunge yourself at once into so desperate an enterprise?'

Fergus, who did not understand these delicacies, strode through
the apartment biting his lip, and then, with a constrained smile,
said, 'Well, sister, I leave you to act your new character of
mediator between the Elector of Hanover and the subjects of your
lawful sovereign and benefactor,' and left the room.

There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by Miss
Mac-Ivor. 'My brother is unjust,' she said, 'because he can bear
no interruption that seems to thwart his loyal zeal.'

'And do you not share his ardour?' asked Waverley.

'Do I not?' answered Flora--'God knows mine exceeds his, if that
be possible. But I am not, like him, rapt by the bustle of
military preparation, and the infinite detail necessary to the
present undertaking, beyond consideration of the grand principles
of justice and truth, on which our enterprise is grounded; and
these, I am certain, can only be furthered by measures in
themselves true and just. To operate upon your present feelings,
my dear Mr. Waverley, to induce you to an irretrievable step, of
which you have not considered either the justice or the danger,
is, in my poor judgement, neither the one nor the other.'

'Incomparable Flora!' said Edward, taking her hand, 'how much do
I need such a monitor!'

'A better one by far,' said Flora, gently withdrawing her hand,
'Mr. Waverley will always find in his own bosom, when he will
give its small still voice leisure to be heard.'

'No, Miss Mac-Ivor, I dare not hope it. A thousand circumstances
of fatal self-indulgence have made me the creature rather of
imagination than reason. Durst I but hope--could I but think
that you would deign to be to me that affectionate, that
condescending friend, who would strengthen me to redeem my
errors, my future life'--

'Hush, my dear sir! now you carry your joy at escaping the hands
of a Jacobite recruiting officer to an unparalleled excess of
gratitude.'

'Nay, dear Flora, trifle with me no longer; you cannot mistake
the meaning of those feelings which I have almost involuntarily
expressed; and since I have broken the barrier of silence, let me
profit by my audacity--Or may I, with your permission, mention to
your brother'--

'Not for the world, Mr. Waverley!'

'What am I to understand?' said Edward. 'Is there any fatal
bar--has any prepossession'--

'None, sir,' answered Flora. 'I owe it to myself to say, that I
never yet saw the person on whom I thought with reference to the
present subject.'

'The shortness of our acquaintance, perhaps--If Miss Mac-Ivor
will deign to give me time'

'I have not even that excuse. Captain Waverley's character is so
open--is, in short, of that nature, that it cannot be
misconstrued, either in its strength or its weakness.'

'And for that weakness you despise me?' said Edward.

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley, and remember it is but within this
half-hour that there existed between us a barrier of a nature to
me insurmountable, since I never could think of an officer in the
service of the Elector of Hanover in any other light than as a
casual acquaintance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so
unexpected a topic, and in less than an hour I will be ready to
give you such reasons for the resolution I shall express, as may
be satisfactory at least, if not pleasing to you.' So saying,
Flora withdrew, leaving Waverley to meditate upon the manner in
which she had received his addresses.

Ere he could make up his mind whether to believe his suit had
been acceptable or no, Fergus re-entered the apartment. 'What, A
LA MORT, Waverley?' he cried. 'Come down with me to the court,
and you shall see a sight worth all the tirades of your romances.
An hundred firelocks, my friend, and as many broadswords, just
arrived from good friends; and two or three hundred stout fellows
almost fighting which shall first possess them.--But let me look
at you closer--Why, a true Highlander would say you had been
blighted by an evil eye.--Or can it be this silly girl that has
thus blanked your spirit?--Never mind her, dear Edward; the
wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the business of
life.'

'Indeed, my good friend,' answered Waverley, 'all that I can
charge against your sister is, that she is too sensible, too
reasonable.'

'If that be all, I ensure you for a louis d'or against the mood
lasting four-and-twenty hours. No woman was ever steadily
sensible for that period; and I will engage, if that will please
you, Flora shall be as unreasonable to-morrow as any of her sex.
You must learn, my dear Edward, to consider women EN
MOUSQUETAIRE.' So saying, he seized Waverley's arm, and dragged
him off to review his military preparations.

CHAPTER XXVII

UPON THE SAME SUBJECT

Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the
subject which he had interrupted. His head was, or appeared to
be, so full of guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan
hose, that Waverley could not for some time draw his attention to
any other topic.

'Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus,' he asked, 'that you
are making all these martial preparations?'

'When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all;
but otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you.'

'But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces,
to rise against an established government? It is mere frenzy.'

'LAISSEZ FAIRE A DON ANTOINE--I shall take good care of myself.
We shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a
stroke but he gave one. I would not, however,' continued the
Chieftain, 'have you think me mad enough to stir till a
favourable opportunity: I will not slip my dog before the game's
afoot. But once more, will you join with us, and you shall know
all?'

'How can I?' said Waverley; 'I who have so lately held that
commission which is now posting back to those that gave it? My
accepting it implied a promise of fidelity, and an
acknowledgement of the legality of the government.

'A rash promise,' answered Fergus, 'is not a steel handcuff; it
may be shaken off, especially when it was given under deception,
and has been repaid by insult. But if you cannot immediately
make up your mind to a glorious revenge, go to England, and ere
you cross the Tweed, you will hear tidings that will make the
world ring; and if Sir Everard be the gallant old cavalier I have
heard him described by some of our HONEST gentlemen of the year
one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will find you a better
horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.'

'But your sister, Fergus?'

'Out, hyperbolical fiend,' replied the Chief, laughing; 'how
vexest thou this man!--Speak'st thou of nothing but of ladies?'

'Nay, be serious, my dear friend,' said Waverley; 'I feel that
the happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which
Miss Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this
morning.'

'And is this your very sober earnest,' said Fergus, more gravely,
'or are we in the land of romance and fiction?'

'My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose me jesting on
such a subject?'

'Then, in very sober earnest,' answered his friend, 'I am very
glad to hear it; and so highly do I think of Flora, that; you are
the only man in England for whom I would say so much.--But before
you shake my hand so warmly, there is more to be considered.--
Your own family--will they approve your connecting yourself with
the sister of a highborn Highland beggar?'

'My uncle's situation,' said Waverley, 'his general opinions, and
his uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and
personal qualities are all he would look to in such a connexion.
And where can I find both united in such excellence as in your
sister?'

'Oh, nowhere!--CELA VA SANS DIRE,' replied Fergus with a smile.
'But your father will expect a father's prerogative in being
consulted.'

'Surely; but his late breach with the ruling powers removes all
apprehension of objection on his part, especially as I am
convinced that my uncle will be warm in my cause.'

'Religion, perhaps,' said Fergus, 'may make obstacles, though we
are not bigoted Catholics.'

'My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her religion was
never objected to by my family.--Do not think of MY friends, dear
Fergus; let me rather have your influence where it may be more
necessary to remove obstacles--I mean with your lovely sister.'

'My lovely sister,' replied Fergus, 'like her loving brother, is
very apt to have a pretty decisive will of her own, by which, in
this case, you must be ruled; but you shall not want my interest,
nor my counsel. And, in the first place, I will give you one
hint--loyalty is her ruling passion; and since she could spell an
English book, she has been in love with the memory of the gallant
Captain Wogan, who renounced the service of the usurper Cromwell
to join the standard of Charles II, marched a handful of cavalry
from London to the Highlands to join Middleton, then in arms for
the king, and at length died gloriously in the royal cause. Ask
her to show you some verses she made on his history and fate;
they have been much admired, I assure you. The next point is--I
think I saw Flora go up towards the waterfall a short time since
--follow, man, follow! don't allow the garrison time to
strengthen its purposes of resistance--ALERTE A LA MURAILLE!
Seek Flora out, and learn her decision as soon as you can--and
Cupid go with you, while I go to look over belts and cartouch-
boxes.'

Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and throbbing heart.
Love, with all its romantic train of hopes, fears, and wishes,
was mingled with other feelings of a nature less easily defined.
He could not but remember how much this morning had changed his
fate, and into what a complication of perplexity it was likely to
plunge him. Sunrise had seen him possessed of an esteemed rank
in the honourable profession of arms, his father to all
appearance rapidly rising in the favour of his sovereign;--all
this had passed away like a dream--he himself was dishonoured,
his father disgraced, and he had become involuntarily the
confidant at least, if not the accomplice, of plans dark, deep,
and dangerous, which must infer either subversion of the
government he had so lately served, or the destruction of all who
had participated in them, Should Flora even listen to his suit
favourably, what prospect was there of its being brought to a
happy termination, amid the tumult of an impending insurrection?
Or how could he make the selfish request that she should leave
Fergus, to whom she was so much attached, and, retiring with him
to England, wait, as a distant spectator, the success of her
brother's undertaking, or the ruin of all his hopes and
fortunes!--Or, on the other hand, to engage himself, with no
other aid than his single arm, in the dangerous and precipitate
counsels of the Chieftain,--to be whirled along by him, the
partaker of all his desperate and impetuous motions, renouncing
almost the power of judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or
prudence of his actions,--this was no pleasing prospect for the
secret pride of Waverley to stoop to. And yet what other
conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his addresses by
Flora, an alternative not to be thought of in the present high-
wrought state of his feelings, with anything short of mental
agony. Pondering the doubtful and dangerous prospect before him,
he at length arrived near the cascade, where, as Fergus had
augured, he found Flora seated.

She was quite alone; and, as soon as she observed his approach,
she arose, and came to meet him. Edward attempted to say
something within the verge of ordinary compliment and
conversation, but found himself unequal to the task. Flora
seemed at first equally embarrassed, but recovered herself more
speedily, and (an unfavourable augury for Waverley's suit) was
the first to enter upon the subject of their last interview, 'It
is too important, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley, to permit
me to leave you in doubt on my sentiments.'

'Do not speak them speedily,' said Waverley, much agitated,
'unless they are such as, I fear from your manner, I must not dare
to anticipate. Let time--let my future conduct--let your
brother's influence'--

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley,' said Flora, her complexion a little
heightened, but her voice firm and composed. 'I should incur my
own heavy censure, did I delay expressing my sincere conviction
that I can never regard you otherwise than as a valued friend. I
should do you the highest injustice did I conceal my sentiments
for a moment. I see I distress you, and I grieve for it, but
better now than later; and oh, better a thousand times, Mr.
Waverley, that you should feel a present momentary
disappointment, than the long and heart-sickening griefs which
attend a rash and ill-assorted marriage!'

'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley, 'why should you anticipate such
consequences from a union where birth is equal, where fortune is
favourable, where, if I may venture to say so, the tastes are
similar, where you allege no preference for another, where you
even express a favourable opinion of him whom you reject?'

'Mr. Waverley, I HAVE that favourable opinion,' answered Flora;
'and so strongly, that though I would rather have been silent on
the grounds of my resolution, you shall command them, if you
exact such a mark of my esteem and confidence.'

She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, placing
himself near her, anxiously pressed for the explanation she
offered.

'I dare hardly,' she said, 'tell you the situation of my
feelings, they are so different from those usually ascribed to
young women at my period of life; and I dare hardly touch upon
what I conjecture to be the nature of yours, lest I should give
offence where I would willingly administer consolation. For
myself, from my infancy till this day, I have had but one wish
--the restoration of my royal benefactors to their rightful
throne. It is impossible to express to you the devotion of my
feelings to this single subject; and I will frankly confess, that
it has so occupied my mind as to exclude every thought respecting
what is called my own settlement in life. Let me but live to see
the day of that happy restoration, and a Highland cottage, a
French convent, or an English palace, will be alike indifferent
to me.'

'But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for the exiled
family inconsistent with my happiness?'

'Because you seek, or ought to seek in the object of your
attachment, a heart whose principal delight should be in
augmenting your domestic felicity, and returning your affection,
even to the height of romance. To a man of less keen
sensibility, and less enthusiastic tenderness of disposition,
Flora Mac-Ivor might give content, if not happiness; for were the
irrevocable words spoken, never would she be deficient in the
duties which she vowed.'

'And why--why, Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think yourself a more
valuable treasure to one who is less capable of loving, of
admiring you, than to me?'

'Simply because the tone of our affections would be more in
unison, and because his more blunted sensibility would not
require the return of enthusiasm which I have not to bestow. But
you, Mr. Waverley, would for ever refer to the idea of domestic
happiness which your imagination is capable of painting, and
whatever fell short of that ideal representation would be
construed into coolness and indifference, while you might
consider the enthusiasm with which I regarded the success of the
royal family as defrauding your affection of its due return.'

'In other words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me?' said her
suitor, dejectedly.

'I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, than
any man I have ever seen; but I cannot love you as you ought to
be loved. Oh! do not, for your own sake, desire so hazardous an
experiment! The woman whom you marry ought to have affections
and opinions moulded upon yours. Her studies ought to be your
studies;--her wishes, her feelings, her hopes, her fears, should
all mingle with yours. She should enhance your pleasures, share
your sorrows, and cheer your melancholy.'

'And, why will not you, Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so well describe a
happy union,--why will not you be yourself the person you
describe?'

'Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me?' answered Flora.
'Have I not told you, that every keener sensation of my mind is
bent exclusively towards an event, upon which, indeed, I have no
power but those of my earnest prayers?'

'And might not the granting the suit I solicit,' said Waverley,
too earnest on his purpose to consider what he was about to say,
'even advance the interest to which you have devoted yourself?
My family is wealthy and powerful, inclined in principles to the
Stuart race, and should a favourable opportunity'--

'A favourable opportunity!' said Flora, somewhat scornfully,--
'inclined in principles!--Can such lukewarm adherence be
honourable to yourselves, or gratifying to your lawful
sovereign?--Think, from my present feelings, what I should suffer
when I held the place of member in a family where the rights
which I hold most sacred are subjected to cold discussion, and
only deemed worthy of support when they shall appear on the point
of triumphing without it!'

'Your doubts,' quickly replied Waverley, 'are unjust as far as
concerns myself. The cause that I shall assert, I dare support
through every danger, as undauntedly as the boldest who draws
sword in its behalf.'

'Of that,' answered Flora, 'I cannot doubt for a moment. But
consult your own good sense and reason, rather than a
prepossession hastily adopted, probably only because you have met
a young woman possessed of the usual accomplishments, in a
sequestered and romantic situation. Let your part in this great
and perilous drama rest upon conviction, and not on a hurried,
and probably a temporary feeling.'

Waverley attempted to reply, but his words failed him. Every
sentiment that Flora had uttered vindicated the strength of his
attachment; for even her loyalty, although wildly enthusiastic,
was generous and noble, and disdained to avail itself of any
indirect means of supporting the cause to which she was devoted.

After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus
resumed the conversation.--'One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere we
bid farewell to this topic for ever; and forgive my boldness if
that word have the air of advice. My brother Fergus is anxious
that you should join him in his present enterprise. But do not
consent to this: you could not, by your single exertions,
further his success, and you would inevitably share his fall, if
it be God's pleasure that fall he must. Your character would
also suffer irretrievably. Let me beg you will return to your
own country; and, having publicly freed yourself from every tie
to the usurping government, I trust you will see cause, and find
opportunity, to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and
stand forth, as your loyal ancestors, at the head of your natural
followers and adherents, a worthy representative of the house of
Waverley.'

'And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might I
not hope'--

'Forgive my interruption,' said Flora. 'The present time only is
ours, and I can but explain to you with candour the feelings
which I now entertain; how they might be altered by a train of
events too favourable perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain
even to conjecture: only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after
my brother's honour and happiness, there is none which I shall
more sincerely pray for than for yours.'

With these words she parted from him, for they were now arrived
where two paths separated. Waverley reached the castle amidst a
medley of conflicting passions. He avoided any private interview
with Fergus, as he did not find himself able either to encounter
his raillery, or reply to his solicitations. The wild revelry of
the feast, for Mac-Ivor kept open table for his clan, served in
some degree to stun reflection. When their festivity was ended,
he began to consider how he should again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after
the painful and interesting explanation of the morning. But
Flora did not appear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was
told by Cathleen that her mistress designed to keep her apartment
that evening, went himself in quest of her; but apparently his
remonstrances were in vain, for he returned with a heightened
complexion, and manifest symptoms of displeasure. The rest of
the evening passed on without any allusion, on the part either of
Fergus or Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the
reflections of the latter, and perhaps of both.

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to sum up
the business of the day. That the repulse he had received from
Flora would be persisted in for the present, there was no doubt.
But could he hope for ultimate success in case circumstances
permitted the renewal of his suit? Would the enthusiastic
loyalty, which at this animating moment left no room for a softer
passion, survive, at least in its engrossing force, the success
or the failure of the present political machinations? And if so,
could he hope that the interest which she had acknowledged him to
possess in her favour, might be improved into a warmer
attachment? He taxed his memory to recall every word she had
used, with the appropriate looks and gestures which had enforced
them, and ended by finding himself in the same state of
uncertainty. It was very late before sleep brought relief to the
tumult of his mind, after the most painful and agitating day
which he had ever passed.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A LETTER FROM TULLY-VEOLAN

In the morning, when Waverley's troubled reflections had for some
time given way to repose, there came music to his dreams, but not
the voice of Selma. He imagined himself transported back to
Tully-Veolan, and that he heard Davie Gellatley singing in the
court those matins which used generally to be the first sounds
that disturbed his repose while a guest of the Baron of
Bradwardine. The notes which suggested this vision continued,
and waxed louder, until Edward awoke in earnest. The illusion,
however, did not seem entirely dispelled. The apartment was in
the fortress of Ian nan Chaistel, but it was still the voice of
Davie Gellatley that made the following lines resound under the
window:--

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
[These lines form the burden of an old song to which Burns
wrote additional verses.]

Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gellatley on an
excursion of such unwonted extent, Edward began to dress himself
in all haste, during which operation the minstrelsy of Davie
changed its tune more than once:--

There's naught in the Highlands but syboes and leeks,
And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks;
Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon,
But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame.
[These lines are also ancient, and I believe to the tune of
'We'll never hae peace till Jamie comes hame;'
to which Burns likewise wrote some verses.]

By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued forth, David had
associated himself with two or three of the numerous Highland
loungers who always graced the gates of the castle with their
presence, and was capering and dancing full merrily in the
doubles and full career of a Scotch foursome reel, to the music
of his own whistling. In this double capacity of dancer and
musician, he continued, until an idle piper, who observed his
zeal, obeyed the unanimous call of SEID SUAS (i.e. blow up), and
relieved him from the latter part of his trouble. Young and old
then mingled in the dance as they could find partners. The
appearance of Waverley did not interrupt David's exercise, though
he contrived, by grinning, nodding, and throwing one or two
inclinations of the body into the graces with which he performed
the Highland fling, to convey to our hero symptoms of
recognition. Then, while busily employed in setting, whooping
all the while, and snapping his fingers over his head, he of a
sudden prolonged his side-step until it brought him to the place
where Edward was standing, and, still keeping time to the music
like Harlequin in a pantomime, he thrust a letter into our hero's
hand, and continued his saltation without pause or intermission,
Edward, who perceived that the address was in Rose's handwriting,
retired to peruse it, leaving the faithful bearer to continue his
exercise until the piper or he should be tired out.

The contents of the letter greatly surprised him. It had
originally commenced with DEAR SIR; but these words had been
carefully erased, and the monosyllable, SIR, substituted in their
place. The rest of the contents shall be given in Rose's own
language :--

'I fear I am using an improper freedom by intruding upon you, yet
I cannot trust to any one else to let you know some things which
have happened here, with which it seems necessary you should be
acquainted. Forgive me if I am wrong in what I am doing; for,
alas! Mr. Waverley, I have no better advice than that of my own
feelings;--my dear father is gone from this place, and when he
can return to my assistance and protection, God alone knows. You
have probably heard, that in consequence of some troublesome news
from the Highlands, warrants were sent out for apprehending
several gentlemen in these parts, and, among others, my dear
father. In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he would
surrender himself to the Government, he joined with Mr. Falconer
and some other gentlemen, and they have all gone northwards, with
a body of about forty horsemen. So I am not so anxious
concerning his immediate safety, as about what may follow
afterwards, for these troubles are only beginning. But all this
is nothing to you, Mr. Waverley, only I thought you would be glad
to learn that my father has escaped, in case you happen to have
heard that he was in danger.

'The day after my father went off, there came a party of soldiers
to Tully-Veolan, and behaved very rudely to Bailie Macwheeble;
but the officer was very civil to me, only said his duty obliged
him to search for arms and papers. My father had provided
against this by taking away all the arms except the old useless
things which hung in the hall; and he had put all his papers out
of the way. But oh! Mr. Waverley, how shall I tell you that
they made strict inquiry after you, and asked when you had been
at Tully-Veolan, and where you now were. The officer is gone
back with his party, but a non-commissioned officer and four men
remain as a sort of garrison in the house. They have hitherto
behaved very well, as we are forced to keep them in good humour.
But these soldiers have hinted as if on your falling into their
hands you would be in great danger; I cannot prevail on myself to
write what wicked falsehoods they said, for I am sure they are
falsehoods; but you will best judge what you ought to do. The
party that returned carried off your servant prisoner, with your
two horses, and everything that you left at Tully-Veolan. I hope
God will protect you, and that you will get safe home to England,
where you used to tell me there was no military violence nor
fighting among clans permitted, but everything was done according
to an equal law that protected all who were harmless and
innocent. I hope you will exert your indulgence as to my
boldness in writing to you, where it seems to me, though perhaps
erroneously, that your safety and honour are concerned. I am
sure--at least I think, my father would approve of my writing;
for Mr. Rubrick is fled to his cousin's at the Duchran, to be out
of danger from the soldiers and the Whigs, and Bailie Macwheeble
does not like to meddle (he says) in other men's concerns, though
I hope what may serve my father's friend at such a time as this,
cannot be termed improper interference. Farewell, Captain
Waverley! I shall probably never see you more; for it would be
very improper to wish you to call at Tully-Veolan just now, even
if these men were gone; but I will always remember with gratitude
your kindness in assisting so poor a scholar as myself, and your
attentions to my dear, dear father.

'I remain, your obliged servant,

'ROSE COMYNE BRADWARDINE.

'PS.--I hope you will send me a line by David Gellatley, just to
say you have received this, and that you will take care of
yourself; and forgive me if I entreat you, for your own sake, to
join none of these unhappy cabals, but escape, as fast as
possible, to your own fortunate country.--My compliments to my
dear Flora, and, to Glennaquoich. Is she not as handsome and
accomplished as I have described her?'

Thus concluded the letter of Rose Bradwardine, the contents of
which both surprised and affected Waverley. That the Baron
should fall under the suspicions of Government, in consequence of
the present stir among the partisans of the house of Stuart,
seemed only the natural consequence of his political
predilections; but how he himself should have been involved in
such suspicions, conscious that until yesterday he had been free
from harbouring a thought against the prosperity of the reigning
family, seemed inexplicable. Both at Tully-Veolan and
Glennaquoich, his hosts had respected his engagements with the
existing government, and though enough passed by accidental
innuendo that might induce him to reckon the Baron and the Chief
among those disaffected gentlemen who were still numerous in
Scotland, yet until his own connexion with the army had been
broken off by the resumption of his commission, he had no reason
to suppose that they nourished any immediate or hostile attempts
against the present establishment. Still he was aware that
unless he meant at once to embrace the proposal of Fergus Mac-
Ivor, it would deeply concern him to leave the suspicious
neighbourhood without delay, and repair where his conduct might
undergo a satisfactory examination. Upon this he the rather
determined, as Flora's advice favoured his doing so, and because
he felt inexpressible repugnance at the idea of being accessory
to the plague of civil war. Whatever were the original rights of
the Stuarts, calm reflection told him, that, omitting the
question how far James the Second could forfeit those of his
posterity, he had, according to the united voice of the whole
nation, justly forfeited his own. Since that period, four
monarchs had reigned in peace and glory over Britain, sustaining
and exalting the character of the nation abroad, and its
liberties at home. Reason asked, was it worth while to disturb a
government so long settled and established, and to plunge a
kingdom into all the miseries of civil war, for the purpose of
replacing upon the throne the descendants of a monarch by whom it
had been wilfully forfeited? If, on the other hand, his own
final conviction of the goodness of their cause, or the commands
of his father or uncle, should recommend to him allegiance to the
Stuarts, still it was necessary to clear his own character by
showing that he had not, as seemed to be falsely insinuated,
taken any step to this purpose, during his holding the commission
of the reigning monarch.

The affectionate simplicity of Rose, and her anxiety for his
safety,--his sense, too, of her unprotected state, and of the
terror and actual dangers to which she might be exposed, made an
impression upon his mind, and he instantly wrote to thank her in
the kindest terms for her solicitude on his account, to express
his earnest good wishes for her welfare and that of her father,
and to assure her of his own safety. The feelings which this
task excited were speedily lost in the necessity which he now saw
of bidding farewell to Flora Mac-Ivor, perhaps for ever. The
pang attending this reflection were inexpressible; for her high-
minded elevation of character, her self-devotion to the cause
which she had embraced, united to her scrupulous rectitude as to
the means of serving it, had vindicated to his judgement the
choice adopted by his passions. But time pressed, calumny was
busy with his fame, and every hour's delay increased the power to
injure it. His departure must be instant.

With this determination he sought out Fergus, and communicated to
him the contents of Rose's letter, with his own resolution
instantly to go to Edinburgh, and put into the hands of some one
or other of those persons of influence to whom he had letters
from his father, his exculpation from any charge which might be
preferred against him.

'You run your head into the lion's mouth,' answered Mac-Ivor.
'You do not know the severity of a Government harassed by just
apprehensions, and a consciousness of their own illegality and
insecurity. I shall have to deliver you from some dungeon in
Stirling or Edinburgh Castle.'

'My innocence, my rank, my father's intimacy with Lord M--,
General G--, &c., will be a sufficient protection,' said
Waverley.

'You will find the contrary,' replied the Chieftain;--'these
gentlemen will have enough to do about their own matters. Once
more, will you take the plaid, and stay a little while with us
among the mists and the crows, in the bravest cause ever sword
was drawn in?' [A Highland rhyme on Glencairn's Expedition, in
1650, has these lines--

We'll hide a while among ta crows,
'We'll wiske ta sword and bend ta bows.]

'For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold me excused.'

'Well, then,' said Mac-Ivor, 'I shall certainly find you exerting
your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your
antiquarian researches in detecting the Oggam [The Oggam is a
species of the old Irish character. The idea of the
correspondence betwixt the Celtic and Punic, founded on a scene
in Plautus, was not started till General Vallancey set up his
theory, long after the date of Fergus Mac-Ivor.] character, or
some Punic hieroglyphic upon the key-stones of a vault, curiously
arched. Or what say you to UN PETIT PENDEMENT BIEN JOLI?
against which awkward ceremony I don't warrant you, should you
meet a body of the armed west-country Whigs.'

'And why should they use me so?' said Waverley.

'For a hundred good reasons,' answered Fergus: 'First, you are
an Englishman; secondly, a gentleman; thirdly, a prelatist
abjured; and, fourthly, they have not had an opportunity to
exercise their talents on such a subject this long while. But
don't be cast down, beloved: all will be done in the fear of the
Lord.'

'Well, I must run my hazard,'

'You are determined, then?'

'I am.'

'Wilful will do 't,' said Fergus;--'but you cannot go on foot and
I shall want no horse, as I must march on foot at the head of the
children of Ivor; you shall have Brown Dermid.'

'If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much obliged.'

'If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a gift or loan,
I will not refuse money at the entrance of a campaign: his price
is twenty guineas, [Remember, reader, it was Sixty Years since.]
And when do you propose to depart?'

'The sooner the better,' answered Waverley.

'You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go you will:
I will take Flora's pony, and ride with you as far as Bally-
Brough.--Callum Beg, see that our horses are ready, with a pony
for yourself, to attend and carry Mr. Waverley's baggage as far
as -- (naming a small town), where he can have a horse and guide
to Edinburgh. Put on a Lowland dress, Callum, and see you keep
your tongue close, if you would not have me cut it out: Mr.
Waverley rides Dermid,' Then turning to Edward, 'You will take
leave of my sister?'

'Surely--that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me so far.'

'Cathleen, let my sister know that Mr. Waverley wishes to bid her
farewell before he leaves us.--But Rose Bradwardine,--her
situation must be thought of. I wish she were here. And why
should she not? There are but four red-coats at Tully-Veolan,
and their muskets would be very useful to us.'

To these broken remarks Edward made no answer; his ear indeed
received them, but his soul was intent upon the expected entrance
of Flora. The door opened--it was but Cathleen, with her lady's
excuse, and wishes for Captain Waverley's health and happiness.

CHAPTER XXIX

WAVERLEY'S RECEPTION IN THE LOWLANDS AFTER HIS HIGHLAND TOUR

It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of the pass of
Bally-Brough. 'I must go no farther,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, who
during the journey had in vain endeavoured to raise his friend's
spirits, 'If my cross-grained sister has any share in your
dejection, trust me she thinks highly of you, though her present
anxiety about the public cause prevents her listening to any
other subject. Confide your interest to me; I will not betray
it, providing you do not again assume that vile cockade.'

'No fear of that, considering the manner in which it has been
recalled. Adieu, Fergus; do not permit your sister to forget
me.'

'And adieu, Waverley; you may soon hear of her with a prouder
title. Get home, write letters, and make friends as many and as
fast as you can; there will speedily be unexpected guests on the
coast of Suffolk, or my news from France has deceived me.' [The
sanguine Jacobites, during the eventful years 1745-6, kept up the
spirits of their party by the rumour of descents from France on
behalf of the Chevalier St. George.]

Thus parted the friends; Fergus returning back to his castle,
while Edward, followed by Callum Beg, the latter transformed from
point to point into a Low-country groom, proceeded to the little
town of --.

Edward paced on under the painful and yet not altogether
embittered feelings which separation and uncertainty produce in
the mind of a youthful lover. I am not sure if the ladies
understand the full value of the influence of absence, nor do I
think it wise to teach it them, lest, like the Clelias and
Mandanes of yore, they should resume the humour of sending their
lovers into banishment. Distance, in truth, produces in idea the
same effect as in real prospective. Objects are softened, and
rounded, and rendered doubly graceful; the harsher and more
ordinary points of character are mellowed down, and those by
which it is remembered are the more striking outlines that mark
sublimity, grace, or beauty. There are mists, too, in the
mental, as well as the natural horizon, to conceal what is less
pleasing in distant objects, and there are happy lights, to
stream in full glory upon those points which can profit by
brilliant illumination.

Waverley forgot Flora Mac-Ivor's prejudices in her magnanimity,
and almost pardoned her indifference towards his affection, when
he recollected the grand and decisive object which seemed to fill
her whole soul. She, whose sense of duty so wholly engrossed her
in the cause of a benefactor,--what would be her feelings in
favour of the happy individual who should be so fortunate as to
awaken them? Then came the doubtful question, whether he might
not be that happy man,--a question which fancy endeavoured to
answer in the affirmative, by conjuring up all she had said in
his praise, with the addition of a comment much more flattering
than the text warranted. All that was commonplace--all that
belonged to the everyday world--was melted away and obliterated
in those dreams of imagination, which only remembered with
advantage the points of grace and dignity that distinguished
Flora, from the generality of her sex, not the particulars which
she held in common with them, Edward was, in short, in the fair
way of creating a goddess out of a high-spirited, accomplished,
and beautiful young woman; and the time was wasted in castle-
building, until, at the descent of a steep hill, he saw beneath
him the market-town of --.

The Highland politeness of Callum Beg--there are few nations, by
the way, who can boast of so much natural politeness as the
Highlanders [The Highlander, in former times, had always a high
idea, of his own gentility, and was anxious to impress the same
upon those with whom he conversed. His language abounded in the
phrases of courtesy and compliment; and the habit of carrying
arms, and mixing with those who did so, made if particularly
desirable they should use cautious politeness in their
intercourse with each other.]--the Highland civility of his
attendant had not permitted him to disturb the reveries of our
hero. But observing him rouse himself at the sight of the
village, Callum pressed closer to his side, and hoped 'When they
cam to the public, his honour wad not say nothing about Vich Ian
Vohr, for ta people were bitter Whigs, deil burst tem.'

Waverley assured the prudent page that he would be cautious; and
as he now distinguished, not indeed the ringing of bells, but the
tinkling of something like a hammer against the side of an old
messy, green, inverted porridge-pot, that hung in an open booth,
of the size and shape of a parrot's cage, erected to grace the
east end of a building resembling an old barn, he asked Callum
Beg if it were Sunday.

'Could na say just preceesely--Sunday seldom cam aboon the pass
of Bally-Brough.'

On entering the town, however, and advancing towards the most
apparent public house which presented itself, the numbers of old
women, in tartan screens and red cloaks, who streamed from the
barn-resembling building, debating, as they went, the comparative
merits of the blessed youth Jabesh Rentowel, and that chosen
vessel Maister Goukthrapple, induced Callum to assure his
temporary master, 'that it was either ta muckle Sunday hersell,
or ta little government Sunday that they ca'd ta fast.'

On alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched Golden
Candlestick, which, for the further delectation of the guests,
was graced with a short Hebrew motto, they were received by mine
host, a tall, thin puritanical figure, who seemed to debate with
himself whether he ought to give shelter to those who travelled
on such a day. Reflecting, however, in all probability, that he
possessed the power of mulcting them for this irregularity, a
penalty which they might escape by passing into Gregor
Duncanson's, at the sign of the Highlander and the Hawick Gill,
Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks condescended to admit them into his
dwelling.

To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his request that he
would procure him a guide, with a saddle-horse, to carry his
portmanteau to Edinburgh.

'And whar may ye be coming from?' demanded mine host of the
Candlestick.

'I have told you where I wish to go; I do not conceive any
further information necessary either for the guide or his saddle-
horse.'

'Hem! Ahem!' returned he of the Candlestick, somewhat
disconcerted at this rebuff. 'It's the general fast, sir, and I
cannot enter into ony carnal transactions on sic a day, when the
people should be humbled, and the back sliders should return, as
worthy Mr. Goukthrapple said; and moreover when, as the precious
Mr. Jabesh Rentowel did weel observe, the land was mourning for
covenants burnt, broken, and buried.'

'My good friend,' said Waverley, 'if you cannot let me have a
horse and guide, my servant shall seek them elsewhere.'

'Aweel! Your servant?--and what for gangs he not forward wi' you
himsell?'

Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse's spirit
within him--I mean of that sort of spirit which I have been
obliged to when I happened, in a mail-coach, or diligence, to
meet some military man who has kindly taken upon him the
disciplining of the waiters, and the taxing of reckonings. Some
of this useful talent our hero had, however, acquired during his
military service, and on this gross provocation it began
seriously to arise. 'Look ye, sir; I came here for my own

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