tions and forming, will make a very good figure. not the king, no, not in thy thought!-why, he anAs to her father, he is an original, it is true, and answered, that truly he was glad I had made him my absurd one enough; but he has given such severe confident, to prevent more grievous disappointment, lessons to Sir Hew Halbert, that dear defunct the for he could assure me, upon the word of a prince, Laird of Balmawhapple, and others, that nobody that Miss Bradwardine's affections were engaged, dare laugh at him, so his absurdity goes for no- and he was under a particular promise to favour thing. I tell you there could have been no earthly them. So, my dear Fergus,' said he, with his objection-none. I had settled the thing entirely most gracious cast of smile, as the marriage is in my own mind.” utterly out of question, there need be no hurry, you know, about the earldom.' And so he glided off, and left me planté la." "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 boot-jack 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. “O, 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 pretensionsthey 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 trumpt 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 it 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? O 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 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 analyze the mixture of feelings which the narrative had awakened in his own bosom. "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 caliga, for any thing 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 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 muchthat is, so very much-handsomer than Rose. She is taller indeed, and her manner more formed; but "Answer! why-it is well it is written, Curse many people think Miss Bradwardine's more na "And what did the Prince answer?" tural; 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 Shakspeare; 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 MacIvor," 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 Shakspeare 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? O 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 66 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 engage But I wish you to be aware that the right is not with you; that you are fighting against the real interests of your country; and that you ought, as an Englishman and a patriot, to take the first opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition before the snow-ball melts." ment. "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 heain the square. But the news of the unhappy affair ven I could give you as good an account of matters that you were among the fallen. at Preston came upon us, with the dreadful addition 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 In such political disputes, Waverley usually op vain. Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in posed the common arguments of his party, with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader. But ended! Notwithstanding all my watchful care, this he had little to say when the Colonel urged him to unhappy rumour reached her without preparation. poor infant compare the strength by which they had under- She was taken ill immediately; and the taken to overthrow the Government, with that which all! But although the contradiction of the horrible scarce survived its birth. Would to God this were was now assembling very rapidly for its support. report by your own letter has greatly revived her To this statement Waverley had but one answer: "If the cause I have undertaken be perilous, there spirits, yet Dr apprehends, I grieve to say, would be the greater disgrace in abandoning it." serious, and even dangerous, consequences to her And in his turn he generally silenced Colonel Tal-health, especially from the uncertainty in which she bot, and succeeded in changing the subject. One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends had separated, and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened about midnight by a suppressed groan. He started up and listened; it came from the apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided from his own by a wainscotted partition, with a door of communication. Waverley approached this door, and distinctly heard one or two deep-drawn sighs. What could be the matter? The Colonel had parted from him, apparently, in his usual state of spirits. He must have been taken suddenly ill. Under this impression, he opened the door of communication very gently, and perceived the Colonel, in his night-gown, scated 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 any thing can be done?" must necessarily remain for some time, aggravated by the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of those with whom you are a prisoner. reaches you, endeavour to gain your release, by "Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this parole, by ransom, or any way that is practicable. but I must not-dare not-suppress the truth.— do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of health; 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 prisonerupon 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". "In the name of God," said the Colonel, his "I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he "O, you can take out the things again, you know. Now I see you busy, I will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his eyes sparkled almost as 'Had you,' bright as yours did two minutes since. 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 He has a heart, and a kind yours; and asked him to judge what my feelings must be by his own. one, Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He took a sheet of paper, and wrote the pass with his own hand. I will not trust myself with my council,' he said; they will argue me out of what is right. I will not endure that a friend, valued as I value you, should be loaded with the painful reflections which must afflict you in case of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's family; nor will I · stances. 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.'" "I only did my duty," answered Colonel Tal-keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such circumbot, 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. 140 "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 any thing more?" "Only asked if there was any thing 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 intrust 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-1 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 suilen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend, "I assure you, Colonel," said Waverley, " that you judge too harshly of the Highlanders." when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and not yet Full loud the wind blew down the ferry; "Tell me nothing of that," said Talbot; " I wish to carry no news of your motions." "Simply, then, adicu. 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 Ir 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. "Not a whit, not a whit; I cannot spare them a jot I cannot bate them an ace. Let them stay in their own barren mountains, and puff and swell, and hang their bonnets on the horns of the moon, if they have a mind; but what business have they to come where people wear breeches, and speak an intelligible language?—I mean intelligible in comparison to their gibberish, for even the Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better than the Negroes As Colonel Mac-Ivor's regiment marched in the in Jamaica. I could pity the Pr—, I mean the van of the clans, he and Waverley, who now equalChevalier himself, for having so many desperadoes led any Highlander in the endurance of fatigue, and about him. And they learn their trade so early. was become somewhat acquainted with their lanThere is a kind of subaltern imp, for example, a guage, were perpetually at its head. They marked sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glenna-the progress of the army, however, with very difGlenamuck there, has sometimes in his train. To ferent eyes. Fergus, all air and fire, and confident look at him, he is about fifteen years; but he is a against the world in arms, measured nothing but century old in mischief and villany. He was play- that every step was a yard nearer London. He ing at quoits the other day in the court; a gentle- neither asked, expected, nor desired any aid, exman—a decent-looking person enough-came past, cept that of the clans, to place the Stuarts once and as a quoit hit his shin, he lifted his cane: But more on the throne; and when by chance a few admy young bravo whips out his pistol, like Beau herents joined the standard, he always considered Clincher in the Trip to the Jubilee, and had not a them in the light of new claimants upon the favours seream of Gardez l'eau from an upper window, set of the future monarch, who, he concluded, must ail parties a scampering for fear of the inevitable therefore subtract for their gratification so much consequences, the poor gentleman would have lost of the bounty which ought to be shared among his his life by the hands of that little cockatrice." Highland followers. "A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return, Colonel Talbot." "O, Justice Shallow," said the Colonel, "will save me the trouble-Barren, barren-beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good air,'--and that only 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, stupified, and dull, but gave few sigus even |