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Waverley by Walter Scott

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with some freedom.--You remember my earl's patent; it is dated
some years back, for services then rendered; and certainly my
merit has not been diminished, to say the least, by my subsequent
behaviour. Now, sir, I value this bauble of a coronet as little
as you can, or any philosopher on earth; for I hold that the
chief of such a clan as the Sliochd nan Ivor is superior in rank
to any earl in Scotland. But I had a particular reason for
assuming this cursed title at this time. You must know, that I
learned accidentally that the Prince has been pressing that old
foolish Baron of Bradwardine to disinherit his male heir, or
nineteenth or twentieth cousin, who has taken a command in the
Elector of Hanover's militia, and to settle his estate upon your
pretty little friend Rose; and this, as being the command of his
king and overlord, who may alter the destination of a fief at
pleasure, the old gentleman seems well reconciled to.'

'And what becomes of the homage?'

'Curse the homage!--I believe Rose is to pull off the queen's
slipper on her coronation-day, or some such trash. Well sir, as
Rose Bradwardine would always have made a suitable match for me,
but for this idiotical predilection of her father for the heir-
male, it occurred to me there now remained no obstacle, unless
that the Baron might expect his daughter's husband to take the
name of Bradwardine (which you know would be impossible in my
case), and that this might be evaded by my assuming the title to
which I had so good a right, and which, of course, would
supersede that difficulty. If she was to be also Viscountess
Bradwardine in her own right, after her father's demise, so much
the better; I could have no objection.'

'But, Fergus,' said Waverley, 'I had no idea that you had any
affection for Miss Bradwardine, and you are always sneering at
her father.'

'I have as much affection for Miss Bradwardine, my good friend,
as I think it necessary to have for the future mistress of my
family, and the mother of my children. She is a very pretty,
intelligent girl, and is certainly of one of the very first
Lowland families; and, with a little of Flora's instructions and
forming, will make a very good figure. As to her father, he is
an original, it is true, and an absurd one enough; but he has
given such severe lessons to Sir Hew Halbert, that dear defunct
the Laird of Balmawhapple, and others, that nobody dare laugh at
him, so his absurdity goes for nothing. I tell you there could
have been no earthly objection--none. I had settled the thing
entirely in my own mind.'

'But had you asked the Baron's consent,' said Waverley, 'Or
Rose's?'

'To what purpose? To have spoke to the Baron before I had
assumed my title would have only provoked a premature and
irritating discussion on the subject of the change of name, when,
as Earl of Glennaquoich, I had only to propose to him to carry
his d-d bear and bootjack PARTY PER PALE, or in a scutcheon of
pretence, or in a separate shield perhaps--any way that would not
blemish my own coat of arms. And as to Rose, I don't see what
objection she could have made, if her father was satisfied.'

'Perhaps the same that your sister makes to me, you being
satisfied.'

Fergus gave a broad stare at the comparison which this
supposition implied, but cautiously suppressed the answer which
rose to his tongue. 'Oh, we should easily have arranged all
that.--so, sir, I craved a private interview, and this morning
was assigned; and I asked you to meet me here, thinking, like a
fool, that I should want your countenance as bride's-man. Well
--I state my pretensions--they are not denied; the promises so
repeatedly made, and the patent granted--they are acknowledged.
But I propose, as a natural consequence, to assume the rank which
the patent bestowed--I have the old story of the jealousy of C--
and M-- trumped up against me--I resist this pretext, and offer
to procure their written acquiescence, in virtue of the date of
my patent as prior to their silly claims--I assure you I would
have had such a consent from them, if it had been at the point of
the sword. And then, out comes the real truth; and he dares to
tell me, to my face, that my patent must be suppressed for the
present, for fear of disgusting that rascally coward and
FAINEANT--(naming the rival chief of his own clan)--who has no
better title to be a chieftain than I to be Emperor of China; and
who is pleased to shelter his dastardly reluctance to come out,
agreeable to his promise twenty times pledged, under a pretended
jealousy of the Prince's partiality to me. And, to leave this
miserable driveller without a pretence for his cowardice, the
Prince asks if as a personal favour of me, forsooth, not to press
my just and reasonable request at this moment. After this, put
your faith in princes!'

'And did your audience end here?'

'End? Oh, no! I was determined to leave him no pretence for his
ingratitude, and I therefore stated, with all the composure I
could muster,--for I promise you I trembled with passion,--the
particular reasons I had for wishing that his Royal Highness
would impose upon me any other mode of exhibiting my duty and
devotion, as my views in life made, what at any other time would
have been a mere trifle, at this crisis a severe sacrifice; and
then I explained to him my full plan.'

'And what did the Prince answer?'

'Answer? why--it is well it is written, Curse not the king; no,
not in thy thought!--why, he answered, that truly he was glad I
had made him my confidant, to prevent more grievous
disappointment, for he could assure me, upon the word of a
prince, that Miss Bradwardine's affections were engaged, and he
was under a particular promise to favour them. "So, my dear
Fergus," said he, with his most gracious cast of smile, "as the
marriage is utterly out of question, there need be no hurry, you
know, about the earldom." And so he glided off, and left me
PLANTE LA.'

'And what did you do?'

'I'll tell you what I could have done at that moment--sold myself
to the devil or the Elector, whichever offered the dearest
revenge. However, I am now cool. I know he intends to marry her
to some of his rascally Frenchmen, or his Irish officers: but I
will watch them close; and let the man that would supplant me
look well to himself.--BISOGNA COPRIRSI, SIGNOR.'

After some further conversation, unnecessary to be detailed,
Waverley took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury had now subsided
into a deep and strong desire of vengeance, and returned home,
scarce able to analyse the mixture of feelings which the
narrative had awakened in his own bosom.

CHAPTER LIV

'TO ONE THING CONSTANT NEVER'

'I am the very child of caprice,' said Waverley to himself, as he
bolted the door of his apartment, and paced it with hasty steps.
--'What is it to me that Fergus Mac-Ivor should wish to marry
Rose Bradwardine?--I love her not.--I might have been loved by
her, perhaps; but I rejected her simple, natural, and affecting
attachment, instead of cherishing it into tenderness, and
dedicated myself to one who will never love mortal man, unless
old Warwick, the King-maker, should arise from the dead. The
Baron, too--I would not have cared about his estate, and so the
name would have been no stumbling-block, The devil might have
taken the barren moors, and drawn off the royal CALIGAE, for
anything I would have minded. But, framed as she is for domestic
affection and tenderness, for giving and receiving all those kind
and quiet attentions which sweeten life to those who pass it
together, she is sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor. He will not use her
ill, to be sure--of that he is incapable--but he will neglect her
after the first month; he will be too intent on subduing some
rival chieftain, or circumventing some favourite at court, on
gaining some heathy hill and lake, or adding to his bands some
new troop of caterans, to inquire what she does, or how she
amuses herself.

And then will canker sorrow eat her bud,
And chase the native beauty from her cheek;
And she will look as hollow as a ghost,
And dim and meagre as an ague fit,
And so she'll die.

And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might
have been prevented, if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes!
Upon my word, I cannot understand how I thought Flora so much--
that is, so very much--handsomer than Rose. She is taller,
indeed, and her manner more formed; but many people think Miss
Bradwardine's more natural; and she is certainly much younger. I
should think Flora is two years older than I am--I will look at
them particularly this evening.'

And with this resolution Waverley went to drink tea (as the
fashion was Sixty Years since) at the house of a lady of quality
attached to the cause of the Chevalier, where he found, as he
expected, both the ladies. All rose as he entered, but Flora
immediately resumed her place, and the conversation in which she
was engaged. Rose, on the contrary, almost imperceptibly, made a
little way in the crowded circle for his advancing the corner of
a chair. 'Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging,' said
Waverley to himself.

A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian language was
most liquid, and best adapted for poetry; the opinion for the
Gaelic, which probably might not have found supporters elsewhere,
was here fiercely defended by seven Highland ladies, who talked
at the top of their lungs, and screamed the company deaf, with
examples of Celtic EUPHONIA. Flora, observing the Lowland ladies
sneer at the comparison, produced some reasons to show that it
was not altogether so absurd; but Rose, when asked for her
opinion, gave it with animation in praise of Italian, which she
had studied with Waverley's assistance. 'She has a more correct
ear than Flora, though a less accomplished musician,' said
Waverley to himself. 'I suppose Miss Mac-Ivor will next compare
Mac-Murrough nan Fonn to Ariosto!'

Lastly, it so befell that the company differed whether Fergus
should be asked to perform on the flute, at which he was an
adept, or Waverley invited to read a play of Shakespeare; and the
lady of the house good-humouredly undertook to collect the votes
of the company for poetry or music, under the condition, that the
gentleman whose talents were not laid under contribution that
evening, should contribute them to enliven the next. It chanced
that Rose had the casting vote. Now Flora, who seemed to impose
it as a rule upon herself never to countenance any proposal which
might seem to encourage Waverley, had voted for music, providing
the Baron would take his violin to accompany Fergus. 'I wish you
joy of your taste, Miss Mac-Ivor,' thought Edward, as they sought
for his book. 'I thought it better when we were at Glennaquoich;
but certainly the Baron is no great performer, and Shakespeare is
worth listening to.'

ROMEO AND JULIET was selected, and Edward read with taste,
feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play. All the
company applauded with their hands, and many with their tears.
Flora, to whom the drama was well known, was among the former;
Rose, to whom it was altogether new, belonged to the latter class
of admirers. 'She has more feeling, too,' said Waverley,
internally.

The conversation turning upon the incidents of the play, and upon
the characters, Fergus declared that the only one worth naming,
as a man of fashion and spirit, was Mercutio. 'I could not,' he
said, 'quite follow all his old-fashioned wit, but he must have
been a very pretty fellow, according to the ideas of his time.'

'And it was a shame,' said Ensign Maccombich, who usually
followed his Colonel everywhere, 'for that Tibbert, or Taggart,
or whatever was his name, to stick him under the other
gentleman's arm while he was redding the fray.'

The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favour of Romeo; but
this opinion did not go undisputed. The mistress of the house,
and several other ladies, severely reprobated the levity with
which the hero transfers his affections from Rosalind to Juliet.
Flora remained silent until her opinion was repeatedly requested,
and then answered, she thought the circumstance objected to not
only reconcilable to nature, but such as in the highest degree
evinced the art of the poet. 'Romeo is described,' said she, 'as
a young man, peculiarly susceptible of the softer passions; his
love is at first fixed upon a woman who could afford it no
return; this he repeatedly tells you,--

From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed;

and again,--

She hath forsworn to love.

Now, as it was impossible that Romeo's love, supposing him a
reasonable being, could continue to subsist without hope, the
poet has, with great art, seized the moment when he was reduced
actually to despair, to throw in his way an object more
accomplished than her by whom he had been rejected, and who is
disposed to repay his attachment. I can scarce conceive a
situation more calculated to enhance the ardour of Romeo's
affection for Juliet, than his being at once raised by her from
the state of drooping melancholy in which he appears first upon
the scene, to the ecstatic state in which he exclaims--

--come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short moment gives me in her sight.'

'Good, now, Miss Mac-Ivor,' said a young lady of quality, 'do you
mean to cheat us out of our prerogative? will you persuade us
love cannot subsist-without hope, or that the lover must become
fickle if the lady is cruel? Oh, fie! I did not expect such an
unsentimental conclusion.'

'A lover, my dear Lady Betty,' said Flora, 'may, I conceive,
persevere in his suit under very discouraging circumstances.
Affection can (now and then) withstand very severe storms of
rigour, but not a long polar frost of downright indifference.
Don't, even with YOUR attractions, try the experiment upon any
lover whose faith you value. Love will subsist on wonderfully
little hope, but not altogether without it.'

'It will be just like Duncan Mac-Girdie's mare,' said Evan, 'if
your ladyships please; he wanted to use her by degrees to live
without meat, and just as he had put her on a straw a day, the
poor thing died!'

Evan's illustration set the company a-laughing, and the discourse
took a different turn. Shortly afterwards the party broke up,
and Edward returned home, musing on what Flora had said. 'I
will love my Rosalind no more,' said he: 'she has given me a
broad enough hint for that; and I will speak to her brother, and
resign my suit. But for a Juliet--would it be handsome to
interfere with Fergus's pretensions?--though it is impossible
they can ever succeed: and should they miscarry, what then?--
why then ALORS COMME ALORS.' And with this resolution, of being
guided by circumstances, did our hero commit himself to repose.

CHAPTER LV

A BRAVE MAN IN SORROW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Good God, my uncle!' exclaimed Waverley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply.

CHAPTER LVI

EXERTION

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Oh, you can take out the things again, you know.--Now I see you
busy, I will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his eyes
sparkled almost as bright as yours did two minutes since. "Had
you," he earnestly asked, "shown any sentiments favourable to his
cause?"

"Not in the least, nor was there any hope you would do so." His
countenance fell. I requested your freedom. "Impossible," he
said;--"your importance, as a friend and confidant of such and
such personages, made my request altogether extravagant." I told
him my own story and yours and asked him to judge what my
feelings must be by his own. He has a heart, and a kind one,
Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He took a sheet of
paper, and wrote the pass with his own hand. "I will not-trust
myself with my council," he said "they will argue me out of what
is right. I will not endure that a friend, valued as I value
you, should be loaded with the painful reflections which must
afflict you in ease of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's
family; nor will I keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such
circumstances. Besides," said he, "I think I can justify myself
to my prudent advisers, by pleading the good effect such lenity
will produce on the minds of the great English families with whom
Colonel Talbot is connected."'

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

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

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

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a short time they arrived at the seaport:

The boat rocked at the pier of Leith,
Full loud the wind blew down the ferry;
The ship rode at the Berwick Law--

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

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

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

'And adieu, my dear Waverley!--many, many thanks for your
kindness. Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity. I shall
ever think on you with gratitude, and the worst of my censure
shall be, QUE DIABLE ALLOIT-IL FAIRE DANS CETTE GALERE?'

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

CHAPTER LVII

THE MARCH

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

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

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

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

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

'It is one half larger.'

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

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

'Flora, will be a happy woman.'

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

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

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

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

'Perfectly right, Fergus.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER LVIII

THE CONFUSION OF KING AGRAMANT'S CAMP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'No,' answered the unblushing Callum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'He did, sir,' answered Mac-Ivor; 'so, either draw and defend
yourself, or resign your pretensions to the lady.'

'This is absolute madness,' exclaimed Waverley, 'or some strange
mistake!'

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

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

'Then give up now, and for ever, all pretensions to Miss
Bradwardine's hand.'

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

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

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

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

'Monsieur de Beaujeu!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently
reluctant to appear most forward in concession. They did,
however, shake hands, and parted, taking a respectful leave of
the Chevalier. Charles Edward [See Note 31.] then rode to the
head of the Mac-Ivors, threw himself from his horse, begged a
drink out of old Ballenkeiroch's canteen, and marched about half
a mile along with them, inquiring into the history and connexions
of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly using the few words of Gaelic he
possessed, and affecting a great desire to learn it more
thoroughly. He then mounted his horse once more, and galloped to
the Baron's cavalry, which was in front; halted them, and
examined their accoutrements and state of discipline; took notice
of the principal gentlemen, and even of the cadets; inquired
after their ladies, and commended their horses;--rode about an
hour with the Baron of Bradwardine, and endured three long
stories about Field-Marshal the Duke of Berwick.

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

CHAPTER LIX

A SKIRMISH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Oh,' answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, 'my fate is
settled. Dead or captive I must be before to-morrow.'

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

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

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

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

'Bodach Glas?'

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

'No, never.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'And therefore the post of honour.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Highlanders did not remain long undisturbed in the defensive
position they had adopted. Favoured by the night, one large body
of dismounted dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, while
another, equally strong, strove to penetrate by the high road.
Both were received by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their
ranks, and effectually checked their progress. Unsatisfied with
the advantage thus gained, Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the
approach of danger seemed to restore all ifs elasticity, drawing
his sword, and calling out 'Claymore!' encouraged his men, by
voice and example, to break through the hedge which divided them,
and rush down upon the enemy. Mingling with the dismounted
dragoons, they forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the
open moor, where a considerable number were cut to pieces. But
the moon, which suddenly shone out, showed to the English the
small number of assailants, disordered by their own success. Two
squadrons of horse moving to the support of their companions, the
Highlanders endeavoured to recover the enclosures. But several
of them, amongst others their brave Chieftain, were cut off and
surrounded before they could effect their purpose. Waverley,
looking eagerly for Fergus, from whom, as well as from the
retreating body of his followers, he had been separated in the
darkness and tumult, saw him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending
themselves desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were
hewing at them with their long broadswords. The moon was again
at that moment totally overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity,
could neither bring aid to his friends, nor discover which way
lay his own road to rejoin the rear-guard. After once or twice
narrowly escaping being slain or made prisoner by parties of the
cavalry whom he encountered in the darkness, he at length reached
an enclosure, and clambering over it, concluded himself in
safety, and on the way to the Highland forces, whose pipes he
heard at some distance. For Fergus hardly a hope remained,
unless that he might be made prisoner. Revolving his fate with
sorrow and anxiety, the superstition of the Bodach Glas recurred
to Edward's recollection, and he said to himself, with internal
surprise, 'What, can the devil speak truth?' [See Note 32.]

CHAPTER LX

CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

What hast ho here, wench?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for
more than ten days. When the roads began to become a little
practicable, they successively received news of the retreat of
the Chevalier into Scotland; then, that he had abandoned the
frontiers, retiring upon Glasgow; and that the Duke of Cumberland
had formed the siege of Carlisle. His army, therefore, cut off
all possibility of Waverley's escaping into Scotland in that
direction. On the eastern border, Marshal Wade, with a large
force, was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all along the frontier,
parties of militia, volunteers, and partisans, were in arms to
suppress insurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from the
Highland army as had been left in England, The surrender of
Carlisle, and the severity with which the rebel garrison were
threatened, soon formed an additional reason against venturing
upon a solitary and hopeless journey through a hostile country
and a large army, to carry the assistance of a single sword to a
cause which seemed altogether desperate.

In this lonely and secluded situation, without the advantage of
company or conversation with men of cultivated minds, the
arguments of Colonel Talbot often recurred to the mind of our
hero. A still more anxious recollection haunted his slumbers--it
was the dying look and gesture of Colonel Gardiner. Most
devoutly did he hope, as the rarely occurring post brought news
of skirmishes with various success, that it might never again be
his lot to draw his sword in civil conflict. Then his mind
turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolate situation
of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, to that of Rose
Bradwardine, who was destitute of the devoted enthusiasm of
loyalty, which, to her friend, hallowed and exalted misfortune.
These reveries he was permitted to enjoy, undisturbed by queries
or interruption;--and it was in many a winter walk by the shores
of Ullswater, that he acquired a more complete mastery of a
spirit tamed by adversity than his former experience had given
him; and that he felt himself entitled to say firmly, though
perhaps with a sigh, that the romance of his life was ended, and
that its real history had now commenced. He was soon called upon
to justify his pretensions by reason and philosophy.

CHAPTER LXI

A JOURNEY TO LONDON

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Devil confound you!' thought Waverley; 'what infernal luck has
penned me up with this inquisitive bag!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER LXII

WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT?

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

When Waverley knocked at his door, he found it at first difficult

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