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Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2

by Walter Scott · English · Gutenberg #4965 · 546,226 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2

Author: Walter Scott


        
Release date: January 1, 2004 [eBook #4965]
                Most recently updated: January 13, 2012

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAVERLEY; OR, 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE — VOLUME 2 ***




Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.









[Transcriber's Note:
I feel that it is important to note that this book is part
of the Caledonian series. The Caledonian series is a group
of 50 books comprising all of Sir Walter Scott's works.]





WAVERLEY

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

VOLUME II





WAVERLEY

OR 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE





CHAPTER XXXVI

AN INCIDENT


The dinner hour of Scotland Sixty Years Since was two o'clock. It
was therefore about four o'clock of a delightful autumn afternoon
that Mr. Gilfillan commenced his march, in hopes, although
Stirling was eighteen miles distant, he might be able, by becoming
a borrower of the night for an hour or two, to reach it that
evening. He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly
along at the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from time to
time, as if he longed to enter into controversy with him. At
length, unable to resist the temptation, he slackened his pace
till he was alongside of his prisoner's horse, and after marching
a few steps in silence abreast of him, he suddenly asked--'Can ye
say wha the carle was wi' the black coat and the mousted head,
that was wi' the Laird of Cairnvreckan?'

'A Presbyterian clergyman,' answered Waverley.

'Presbyterian!' answered Gilfillan contemptuously; 'a wretched
Erastian, or rather an obscure Prelatist, a favourer of the black
indulgence, ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark; they tell ower
a clash o' terror and a clatter o' comfort in their sermons,
without ony sense, or savour, or life. Ye've been fed in siccan a
fauld, belike?'

'No; I am of the Church of England,' said Waverley.

'And they're just neighbour-like,' replied the Covenanter; 'and
nae wonder they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly
structure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in
1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and the corruptions of
the time;--ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the
sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut down!'

To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed
with a deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any
reply. Whereupon Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a
hearer at least, if not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiade.

'And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the
call to the service of the altar and the duty of the day,
ministers fall into sinful compliances with patronage, and
indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other corruptions,--is it
wonderful, I say, that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy
persons, should labour to build up your auld Babel of iniquity, as
in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times? I trow, gin ye
werena blinded wi' the graces and favours, and services and
enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked
world, I could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy
rag ye put your trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and
vestments, are but cast-off garments of the muckle harlot that
sitteth upon seven hills and drinketh of the cup of abomination.
But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that side of the head; ay,
ye are deceived with her enchantments, and ye traffic with her
merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of her fornication!'

How much longer this military theologist might have continued his
invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of
HILL-FOLK, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter
was copious, his voice powerful, and his memory strong; so that
there was little chance of his ending his exhortation till the
party had reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted
by a pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road, and who
sighed or groaned with great regularity at all fitting pauses of
his homily.

'And what may ye be, friend?' said the Gifted Gilfillan.

'A puir pedlar, that's bound for Stirling, and craves the
protection of your honour's party in these kittle times. Ah' your
honour has a notable faculty in searching and explaining the
secret,--ay, the secret and obscure and incomprehensible causes of
the backslidings of the land; ay, your honour touches the root o'
the matter.'

'Friend,' said Gilfillan, with a more complacent voice than he had
hitherto used, 'honour not me. I do not go out to park-dikes and
to steadings and to market-towns to have herds and cottars and
burghers pull off their bonnets to me as they do to Major Melville
o' Cairnvreckan, and ca' me laird or captain or honour. No; my
sma' means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand merk, have had the
blessing of increase, but the pride of my heart has not increased
with them; nor do I delight to be called captain, though I have
the subscribed commission of that gospel-searching nobleman, the
Earl of Glencairn, fa whilk I am so designated. While I live I am
and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, who will stand up for the
standards of doctrine agreed on by the ance famous Kirk of
Scotland, before she trafficked with the accursed Achan, while he
has a plack in his purse or a drap o' bluid in his body.'

'Ah,' said the pedlar, 'I have seen your land about Mauchlin. A
fertile spot! your lines have fallen in pleasant places! And
siccan a breed o' cattle is not in ony laird's land in Scotland.'

'Ye say right,--ye say right, friend' retorted Gilfillan eagerly,
for he was not inaccessible to flattery upon this subject,--'ye
say right; they are the real Lancashire, and there's no the like
o' them even at the mains of Kilmaurs'; and he then entered into a
discussion of their excellences, to which our readers will
probably be as indifferent as our hero. After this excursion the
leader returned to his theological discussions, while the pedlar,
less profound upon those mystic points, contented himself with
groaning and expressing his edification at suitable intervals.

'What a blessing it would be to the puir blinded popish nations
among whom I hae sojourned, to have siccan a light to their paths!
I hae been as far as Muscovia in my sma' trading way, as a
travelling merchant, and I hae been through France, and the Low
Countries, and a' Poland, and maist feck o' Germany, and O! it
would grieve your honour's soul to see the murmuring and the
singing and massing that's in the kirk, and the piping that's in
the quire, and the heathenish dancing and dicing upon the
Sabbath!'

This set Gilfillan off upon the Book of Sports and the Covenant,
and the Engagers, and the Protesters, and the Whiggamore's Raid,
and the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, and the Longer and
Shorter Catechism, and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the
slaughter of Archbishop Sharp. This last topic, again, led him
into the lawfulness of defensive arms, on which subject he uttered
much more sense than could have been expected from some other
parts of his harangue, and attracted even Waverley's attention,
who had hitherto been lost in his own sad reflections. Mr.
Gilfillan then considered the lawfulness of a private man's
standing forth as the avenger of public oppression, and as he was
labouring with great earnestness the cause of Mas James Mitchell,
who fired at the Archbishop of Saint Andrews some years before the
prelate's assassination on Magus Muir, an incident occurred which
interrupted his harangue.

The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge of the
horizon as the party ascended a hollow and somewhat steep path
which led to the summit of a rising ground. The country was
uninclosed, being part of a very extensive heath or common; but it
was far from level, exhibiting in many places hollows filled with
furze and broom; in others, little dingles of stunted brushwood. A
thicket of the latter description crowned the hill up which the
party ascended. The foremost of the band, being the stoutest and
most active, had pushed on, and, having surmounted the ascent,
were out of ken for the present. Gilfillan, with the pedlar and
the small party who were Waverley's more immediate guard, were
near the top of the ascent, and the remainder straggled after them
at a considerable interval.

Such was the situation of matters when the pedlar, missing, as he
said, a little doggie which belonged to him, began to halt and
whistle for the animal. This signal, repeated more than once, gave
offence to the rigour of his companion, the rather because it
appeared to indicate inattention to the treasures of theological
and controversial knowledge which were pouring out for his
edification. He therefore signified gruffly that he could not
waste his time in waiting for an useless cur.

'But if your honour wad consider the case of Tobit--'

'Tobit!' exclaimed Gilffflan, with great heat; 'Tobit and his dog
baith are altogether heathenish and apocryphal, and none but a
prelatist or a papist would draw them into question. I doubt I hae
been mista'en in you, friend.'

'Very likely,' answered the pedlar, with great composure; 'but
ne'ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle again upon puir
Bawty.'

This last signal was answered in an unexpected manner; for six or
eight stout Highlanders, who lurked among the copse and brushwood,
sprung into the hollow way and began to lay about them with their
claymores. Gilfillan, unappalled at this undesirable apparition,
cried out manfully, 'The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!' and,
drawing his broadsword, would probably have done as much credit to
the good old cause as any of its doughty champions at Drumclog,
when, behold! the pedlar, snatching a musket from the person who
was next him bestowed the butt of it with such emphasis on the
head of his late instructor in the Cameronian creed that he was
forthwith levelled to the ground. In the confusion which ensued
the horse which bore our hero was shot by one of Gilfillan's
party, as he discharged his firelock at random. Waverley fell
with, and indeed under, the animal, and sustained some severe
contusions. But he was almost instantly extricated from the fallen
steed by two Highlanders, who, each seizing him by the arm,
hurried him away from the scuffle and from the highroad. They ran
with great speed, half supporting and half dragging our hero, who
could, however, distinguish a few dropping shots fired about the
spot which he had left. This, as he afterwards learned, proceeded
from Gilfillan's party, who had now assembled, the stragglers in
front and rear having joined the others. At their approach the
Highlanders drew off, but not before they had rifled Gilfillan and
two of his people, who remained on the spot grievously wounded. A
few shots were exchanged betwixt them and the Westlanders; but the
latter, now without a commander, and apprehensive of a second
ambush, did not make any serious effort to recover their prisoner,
judging it more wise to proceed on their journey to Stirling,
carrying with them their wounded captain and comrades.





CHAPTER XXXVII

WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS


The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was hurried
along nearly deprived him of sensation; for the injury he had
received from his fall prevented him from aiding himself so
effectually as he might otherwise have done. When this was
observed by his conductors, they called to their aid two or three
others of the party, and, swathing our hero's body in one of their
plaids, divided his weight by that means among them, and
transported him at the same rapid rate as before, without any
exertion of his own. They spoke little, and that in Gaelic; and
did not slacken their pace till they had run nearly two miles,
when they abated their extreme rapidity, but continued still to
walk very fast, relieving each other occasionally.

Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only answered
with 'Cha n'eil Beurl agam' i.e. 'I have no English,' being, as
Waverley well knew, the constant reply of a Highlander when he
either does not understand or does not choose to reply to an
Englishman or Lowlander. He then mentioned the name of Vich lan
Vohr, concluding that he was indebted to his friendship for his
rescue from the clutches of Gifted Gilfillan, but neither did this
produce any mark of recognition from his escort.

The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted
upon the brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly enlightened
by the moonbeams, seemed full of trees and tangled brushwood. Two
of the Highlanders dived into it by a small foot-path, as if to
explore its recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes,
said something to his companions, who instantly raised their
burden and bore him, with great attention and care, down the
narrow and abrupt descent. Notwithstanding their precautions,
however, Waverley's person came more than once into contact,
rudely enough, with the projecting stumps and branches which
overhung the pathway.

At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by the side of a
brook (for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of
water, although its stream was invisible in the darkness), the
party again stopped before a small and rudely-constructed hovel.
The door was open, and the inside of the premises appeared as
uncomfortable and rude as its situation and exterior foreboded.
There was no appearance of a floor of any kind; the roof seemed
rent in several places; the walls were composed of loose stones
and turf, and the thatch of branches of trees. The fire was in the
centre, and filled the whole wigwam with smoke, which escaped as
much through the door as by means of a circular aperture in the
roof. An old Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of this forlorn
mansion, appeared busy in the preparation of some food. By the
light which the fire afforded Waverley could discover that his
attendants were not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was
particularly strict in requiring from his followers that they
should wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar to their race;
a mark of distinction anciently general through the Highlands, and
still maintained by those Chiefs who were proud of their lineage
or jealous of their separate and exclusive authority.

Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be aware of a
distinction which he had repeatedly heard noticed, and now
satisfied that he had no interest with his attendants, he glanced
a disconsolate eye around the interior of the cabin. The only
furniture, excepting a washing-tub and a wooden press, called in
Scotland an ambry, sorely decayed, was a large wooden bed,
planked, as is usual, all around, and opening by a sliding panel.
In this recess the Highlanders deposited Waverley, after he had by
signs declined any refreshment. His slumbers were broken and
unrefreshing; strange visions passed before his eyes, and it
required constant and reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them.
Shivering, violent headache, and shooting pains in his limbs
succeeded these symptoms; and in the morning it was evident to his
Highland attendants or guard, for he knew not in which light to
consider them, that Waverley was quite unfit to travel.

After a long consultation among themselves, six of the party left
the hut with their arms, leaving behind an old and a young man.
The former addressed Waverley, and bathed the contusions, which
swelling and livid colour now made conspicuous. His own
portmanteau, which the Highlanders had not failed to bring off,
supplied him with linen, and to his great surprise was, with all
its undiminished contents, freely resigned to his use. The bedding
of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his aged attendant
closed the door of the bed, for it had no curtain, after a few
words of Gaelic, from which Waverley gathered that he exhorted him
to repose. So behold our hero for a second time the patient of a
Highland Esculapius, but in a situation much more uncomfortable
than when he was the guest of the worthy Tomanrait.

The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had
sustained did not abate till the third day, when it gave way to
the care of his attendants and the strength of his constitution,
and he could now raise himself in his bed, though not without
pain. He observed, however, that there was a great disinclination
on the part of the old woman who acted as his nurse, as well as on
that of the elderly Highlander, to permit the door of the bed to
be left open, so that he might amuse himself with observing their
motions; and at length, after Waverley had repeatedly drawn open
and they had as frequently shut the hatchway of his cage, the old
gentleman put an end to the contest by securing it on the outside
with a nail so effectually that the door could not be drawn till
this exterior impediment was removed.

While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in
persons whose conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who, in
all other points, appeared to consult his welfare and his wishes,
it occurred to our hero that, during the worst crisis of his
illness, a female figure, younger than his old Highland nurse, had
appeared to flit around his couch. Of this, indeed, he had but a
very indistinct recollection, but his suspicions were confirmed
when, attentively listening, he often heard, in the course of the
day, the voice of another female conversing in whispers with his
attendant. Who could it be? And why should she apparently desire
concealment? Fancy immediately aroused herself and turned to Flora
Mac-Ivor. But after a short conflict between his eager desire to
believe she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel of
mercy, the couch of his sickness, Waverley was compelled to
conclude that his conjecture was altogether improbable; since, to
suppose she had left her comparatively safe situation at
Glennaquoich to descend into the Low Country, now the seat of
civil war, and to inhabit such a lurking-place as this, was a
thing hardly to be imagined. Yet his heart bounded as he sometimes
could distinctly hear the trip of a light female step glide to or
from the door of the hut, or the suppressed sounds of a female
voice, of softness and delicacy, hold dialogue with the hoarse
inward croak of old Janet, for so he understood his antiquated
attendant was denominated.

Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in
contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in despite of the
sedulous caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he
had never seen the young fellow since the first morning. At
length, upon accurate examination, the infirm state of his wooden
prison-house appeared to supply the means of gratifying his
curiosity, for out of a spot which was somewhat decayed he was
able to extract a nail. Through this minute aperture he could
perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act of
conversing with Janet. But, since the days of our grandmother Eve,
the gratification of inordinate curiosity has generally borne its
penalty in disappointment. The form was not that of Flora, nor was
the face visible; and, to crown his vexation, while he laboured
with the nail to enlarge the hole, that he might obtain a more
complete view, a slight noise betrayed his purpose, and the object
of his curiosity instantly disappeared, nor, so far as he could
observe, did she again revisit the cottage.

All precautions to blockade his view were from that time
abandoned, and he was not only permitted but assisted to rise, and
quit what had been, in a literal sense, his couch of confinement.
But he was not allowed to leave the hut; for the young Highlander
had now rejoined his senior, and one or other was constantly on
the watch. Whenever Waverley approached the cottage door the
sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely, placed himself against
it and opposed his exit, accompanying his action with signs which
seemed to imply there was danger in the attempt and an enemy in
the neighbourhood. Old Janet appeared anxious and upon the watch;
and Waverley, who had not yet recovered strength enough to attempt
to take his departure in spite of the opposition of his hosts, was
under the necessity of remaining patient. His fare was, in every
point of view, better than he could have conceived, for poultry,
and even wine, were no strangers to his table. The Highlanders
never presumed to eat with him, and, unless in the circumstance of
watching him, treated him with great respect. His sole amusement
was gazing from the window, or rather the shapeless aperture which
was meant to answer the purpose of a window, upon a large and
rough brook, which raged and foamed through a rocky channel,
closely canopied with trees and bushes, about ten feet beneath the
site of his house of captivity.

Upon the sixth day of his confinement Waverley found himself so
well that he began to meditate his escape from this dull and
miserable prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in
the attempt preferable to the stupefying and intolerable
uniformity of Janet's retirement. The question indeed occurred,
whither he was to direct his course when again at his own
disposal. Two schemes seemed practicable, yet both attended with
danger and difficulty. One was to go back to Glennaquoich and join
Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly received; and in
the present state of his mind, the rigour with which he had been
treated fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his allegiance
to the existing government. The other project was to endeavour to
attain a Scottish seaport, and thence to take shipping for
England. His mind wavered between these plans, and probably, if he
had effected his escape in the manner he proposed, he would have
been finally determined by the comparative facility by which
either might have been executed. But his fortune had settled that
he was not to be left to his option.

Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut suddenly
opened, and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recognised as
having been a part of his original escort to this cottage. They
conversed for a short time with the old man and his companion, and
then made Waverley understand, by very significant signs, that he
was to prepare to accompany them. This was a joyful communication.
What had already passed during his confinement made it evident
that no personal injury was designed to him; and his romantic
spirit, having recovered during his repose much of that elasticity
which anxiety, resentment, disappointment, and the mixture of
unpleasant feelings excited by his late adventures had for a time
subjugated, was now wearied with inaction. His passion for the
wonderful, although it is the nature of such dispositions to be
excited by that degree of danger which merely gives dignity to the
feeling of the individual exposed to it, had sunk under the
extraordinary and apparently insurmountable evils by which he
appeared environed at Cairnvreckan. In fact, this compound of
intense curiosity and exalted imagination forms a peculiar species
of courage, which somewhat resembles the light usually carried by
a miner--sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him guidance
and comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but certain
to be extinguished should he encounter the more formidable hazard
of earth damps or pestiferous vapours. It was now, however, once
more rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture of hope, awe, and
anxiety, Waverley watched the group before him, as those who were
just arrived snatched a hasty meal, and the others assumed their
arms and made brief preparations for their departure.

As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire, around
which the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure upon his
arm. He looked round; it was Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean
Lean. She showed him a packet of papers in such a manner that the
motion was remarked by no one else, put her finger for a second to
her lips, and passed on, as if to assist old Janet in packing
Waverley's clothes in his portmanteau. It was obviously her wish
that he should not seem to recognise her, yet she repeatedly
looked back at him, as an opportunity occurred of doing so
unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what she did, she
folded the packet with great address and speed in one of his
shirts, which she deposited in the portmanteau.

Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice his unknown
warden, and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that
watched his bed during his sickness? Was he in the hands of her
father? and if so, what was his purpose? Spoil, his usual object,
seemed in this case neglected; for not only Waverley's property
was restored, but his purse, which might have tempted this
professional plunderer, had been all along suffered to remain in
his possession. All this perhaps the packet might explain; but it
was plain from Alice's manner that she desired he should consult
it in secret. Nor did she again seek his eye after she had
satisfied herself that her manoeuvre was observed and understood.
On the contrary, she shortly afterwards left the hut, and it was
only as she tript out from the door, that, favoured by the
obscurity, she gave Waverley a parting smile and nod of
significance ere she vanished in the dark glen.

The young Highlander was repeatedly despatched by his comrades as
if to collect intelligence. At length, when he had returned for
the third or fourth time, the whole party arose and made signs to
our hero to accompany them. Before his departure, however, he
shook hands with old Janet, who had been so sedulous in his
behalf, and added substantial marks of his gratitude for her
attendance.

'God bless you! God prosper you, Captain Waverley!' said Janet, in
good Lowland Scotch, though he had never hithero heard her utter a
syllable, save in Gaelic. But the impatience of his attendants
prohibited his asking any explanation.





CHAPTER XXXVIII

A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE


There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of the
hut; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in
Waverley's awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall
figure who had acted as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by whispers
and signs imposed the strictest silence. He delivered to Edward a
sword and steel pistol, and, pointing up the track, laid his hand
on the hilt of his own claymore, as if to make him sensible they
might have occasion to use force to make good their passage. He
then placed himself at the head of the party, who moved up the
pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed nearest to
their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid
giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of
the ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard
at no great distance an English sentinel call out 'All's well.'
The heavy sound sunk on the night-wind down the woody glen, and
was answered by the echoes of its banks. A second, third, and
fourth time the signal was repeated fainter and fainter, as if at
a greater and greater distance. It was obvious that a party of
soldiers were near, and upon their guard, though not sufficiently
so to detect men skilful in every art of predatory warfare, like
those with whom he now watched their ineffectual precautions.

When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the
Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious
silence. Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for
observation, and could only discern that they passed at some
distance from a large building, in the windows of which a light or
two yet seemed to twinkle. A little farther on the leading
Highlander snuffed the wind like a setting spaniel, and then made
a signal to his party again to halt. He stooped down upon all
fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to be scarce distinguishable
from the heathy ground on which he moved, and advanced in this
posture to reconnoitre. In a short time he returned, and dismissed
his attendants excepting one; and, intimating to Waverley that he
must imitate his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept
forward on hands and knees.

After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than
was at all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived
the smell of smoke, which probably had been much sooner
distinguished by the more acute nasal organs of his guide. It
proceeded from the corner of a low and ruinous sheep-fold, the
walls of which were made of loose stones, as is usual in Scotland.
Close by this low wall the Highlander guided Waverley, and, in
order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or perhaps to
obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he intimated to him,
by sign and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep
into the sheep-fold. Waverley did so, and beheld an outpost of
four or five soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all
asleep except the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with
his firelock on his shoulder, which glanced red in the light of
the fire as he crossed and re-crossed before it in his short walk,
casting his eye frequently to that part of the heavens from which
the moon, hitherto obscured by mist, seemed now about to make her
appearance.

In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes
of atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose
and swept before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and
the night planet poured her full effulgence upon a wide and
blighted heath, skirted indeed with copse-wood and stunted trees
in the quarter from which they had come, but open and bare to the
observation of the sentinel in that to which their course tended.
The wall of the sheep-fold indeed concealed them as they lay, but
any advance beyond its shelter seemed impossible without certain
discovery.

The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the
useful light with Homer's, or rather Pope's benighted peasant, he
muttered a Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of Mac-
Farlane's buat (i.e. lantern) [Footnote: See Note 1]. He looked
anxiously around for a few minutes, and then apparently took his
resolution. Leaving his attendant with Waverley, after motioning
to Edward to remain quiet, and giving his comrade directions in a
brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the irregularity of the
ground, in the same direction and in the same manner as they had
advanced. Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive him
crawling on all fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and
never passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the
sentinel's back was turned from him. At length he reached the
thickets and underwood which partly covered the moor in that
direction, and probably extended to the verge of the glen where
Waverley had been so long an inhabitant. The Highlander
disappeared, but it was only for a few minutes, for he suddenly
issued forth from a different part of the thicket, and, advancing
boldly upon the open heath as if to invite discovery, he levelled
his piece and fired at the sentinel. A wound in the arm proved a
disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's meteorological
observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy Dawson,' which he
was whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, and his
comrades, starting up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards the
spot from which the first shot had issued. The Highlander, after
giving them a full view of his person, dived among the thickets,
for his ruse de guerre had now perfectly succeeded.

While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant,
made the best of his speed in that which his guide originally
intended to pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers
being drawn to a different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded.
When they had run about a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising
ground which they had surmounted concealed them from further risk
of observation. They still heard, however, at a distance the
shouts of the soldiers as they hallooed to each other upon the
heath, and they could also hear the distant roll of a drum beating
to arms in the same direction. But these hostile sounds were now
far in their rear, and died away upon the breeze as they rapidly
proceeded.

When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and
waste ground of the same description, they came to the stump of an
ancient oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one
time a tree of very large size. In an adjacent hollow they found
several Highlanders, with a horse or two. They had not joined them
above a few minutes, which Waverley's attendant employed, in all
probability, in communicating the cause of their delay (for the
words 'Duncan Duroch' were often repeated), when Duncan himself
appeared, out of breath indeed, and with all the symptoms of
having run for his life, but laughing, and in high spirits at the
success of the stratagem by which he had baffled his pursuers.
This indeed Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter of no
great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly
acquainted with the ground, and traced his course with a firmness
and confidence to which his pursuers must have been strangers. The
alarm which he excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping
shot or two were heard at a great distance, which seemed to serve
as an addition to the mirth of Duncan and his comrades.

The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted
our hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the journey
were happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted upon one of the
horses, a change which the fatigue of the night and his recent
illness rendered exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau was
placed on another pony, Duncan mounted a third, and they set
forward at a round pace, accompanied by their escort. No other
incident marked the course of that night's journey, and at the
dawn of morning they attained the banks of a rapid river. The
country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep banks of
wood were broken by corn-fields, which this year presented an
abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down.

On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a
winding of its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half-
ruined turrets of which were already glittering in the first rays
of the sun. [Footnote: See Note 2.] It was in form an oblong
square, of size sufficient to contain a large court in the centre.
The towers at each angle of the square rose higher than the walls
of the building, and were in their turn surmounted by turrets,
differing in height and irregular in shape. Upon one of these a
sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the wind,
declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, which
floated from another tower, announced that the garrison was held
by the insurgent adherents of the House of Stuart.

Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their
appearance excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few
peasants whom the labours of the harvest began to summon from
their repose, the party crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of
several arches, and, turning to the left up an avenue of huge old
sycamores, Waverley found himself in front of the gloomy yet
picturesque structure which he had admired at a distance. A huge
iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence of the
gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak and studded thickly with iron nails,
being next opened, admitted them into the interior court-yard. A
gentleman, dressed in the Highland garb and having a white cockade
in his bonnet, assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and
with much courtesy bid him welcome to the castle.

The governor, for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley
to a half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small
camp-bed, and having offered him any refreshment which he desired,
was then about to leave him.

'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after having
made the usual acknowledgment, 'by having the kindness to inform
me where I am, and whether or not I am to consider myself as a
prisoner?'

'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I
could wish. Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in
the district of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'

'And how am I assured of that?'

'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince
Charles Edward.' So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if
to avoid further discussion.

Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw himself
upon the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.





CHAPTER XXXIX

THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED


Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day was far
advanced, and he began to feel that he had passed many hours
without food. This was soon supplied in form of a copious
breakfast, but Colonel Stewart, as if wishing to avoid the queries
of his guest, did not again present himself. His compliments were,
however, delivered by a servant, with an offer to provide anything
in his power that could be useful to Captain Waverley on his
journey, which he intimated would be continued that evening. To
Waverley's further inquiries, the servant opposed the impenetrable
barrier of real or affected ignorance and stupidity. He removed
the table and provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to his
own meditations.

As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed to
delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the
power of directing his own motions, Edward's eye suddenly rested
upon his portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment
during his sleep. The mysterious appearance of Alice in the
cottage of the glen immediately rushed upon his mind, and he was
about to secure and examine the packet which she had deposited
among his clothes, when the servant of Colonel Stewart again made
his appearance, and took up the portmanteau upon his shoulders.

'May I not take out a change of linen, my friend?'

'Your honour sall get ane o' the Colonel's ain ruffled sarks, but
this maun gang in the baggage-cart.'

And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau, without
waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state where
disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery. In a few
minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged court-yard, and
made no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at least,
if not for ever, of the only documents which seemed to promise
some light upon the dubious events which had of late influenced
his destiny. With such melancholy thoughts he had to beguile about
four or five hours of solitude.

When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard in
the court-yard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appearance
to request his guest to take some further refreshment before his
departure. The offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by no
means left our hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which was
now presented. The conversation of his host was that of a plain
country gentleman, mixed with some soldier-like sentiments and
expressions. He cautiously avoided any reference to the military
operations or civil politics of the time; and to Waverley's direct
inquiries concerning some of these points replied, that he was not
at liberty to speak upon such topics.

When dinner was finished the governor arose, and, wishing Edward a
good journey, said that, having been informed by Waverley's
servant that his baggage had been sent forward, he had taken the
freedom to supply him with such changes of linen as he might find
necessary till he was again possessed of his own. With this
compliment he disappeared. A servant acquainted Waverley an
instant afterwards that his horse was ready.

Upon this hint he descended into the court-yard, and found a
trooper holding a saddled horse, on which he mounted and sallied
from the portal of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of
armed men on horseback. These had less the appearance of regular
soldiers than of individuals who had suddenly assumed arms from
some pressing motive of unexpected emergency. Their uniform, which
was blue and red, an affected imitation of that of French
chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete, and sate awkwardly
upon those who wore it. Waverley's eye, accustomed to look at a
well-disciplined regiment, could easily discover that the motions
and habits of his escort were not those of trained soldiers, and
that, although expert enough in the management of their horses,
their skill was that of huntsmen or grooms rather than of
troopers. The horses were not trained to the regular pace so
necessary to execute simultaneous and combined movements and
formations; nor did they seem bitted (as it is technically
expressed) for the use of the sword. The men, however, were stout,
hardy-looking fellows, and might be individually formidable as
irregular cavalry. The commander of this small party was mounted
upon an excellent hunter, and, although dressed in uniform, his
change of apparel did not prevent Waverley from recognising his
old acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple.

Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with this
gentleman were none of the most friendly, he would have sacrificed
every recollection of their foolish quarrel for the pleasure of
enjoying once more the social intercourse of question and answer,
from which he had been so long secluded. But apparently the
remembrance of his defeat by the Baron of Bradwardine, of which
Edward had been the unwilling cause, still rankled in the mind of
the low-bred and yet proud laird. He carefully avoided giving the
least sign of recognition, riding doggedly at the head of his men,
who, though scarce equal in numbers to a sergeant's party, were
denominated Captain Falconer's troop, being preceded by a trumpet,
which sounded from time to time, and a standard, borne by Cornet
Falconer, the laird's younger brother. The lieutenant, an elderly
man, had much the air of a low sportsman and boon companion; an
expression of dry humour predominated in his countenance over
features of a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual intemperance.
His cocked hat was set knowingly upon one side of his head, and
while he whistled the 'Bob of Dumblain,' under the influence of
half a mutchkin of brandy, he seemed to trot merrily forward, with
a happy indifference to the state of the country, the conduct of
the party, the end of the journey, and all other sublunary matters
whatever.

From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse,
Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to beguile
the way with talk.

'A fine evening, sir,' was Edward's salutation.

'Ow, ay, sir! a bra' night,' replied the lieutenant, in broad
Scotch of the most vulgar description.

'And a fine harvest, apparently,' continued Waverley, following up
his first attack.

'Ay, the aits will be got bravely in; but the farmers, deil burst
them, and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude against
them as has horses till keep.'

'You perhaps act as quartermaster, sir?'

'Ay, quartermaster, riding-master, and lieutenant,' answered this
officer of all work. 'And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look after
the breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that
bought and sold every ane o' them?'

'And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to
know where we are going just now?'

'A fule's errand, I fear,' answered this communicative personage.

'In that case,' said Waverley, determined not to spare civility,
'I should have thought a person of your appearance would not have
been found on the road.'

'Vera true, vera true, sir,' replied the officer, 'but every why
has its wherefore. Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a' thir
beasts frae me to munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them
according to the necessities and prices of the time. But then he
hadna the ready penny, and I hae been advised his bond will not be
worth a boddle against the estate, and then I had a' my dealers to
settle wi' at Martinmas; and so, as he very kindly offered me this
commission, and as the auld Fifteen [Footnote: The Judges of the
Supreme Court of Session in Scotland are proverbially termed among
the country people, The Fifteen.] wad never help me to my siller
for sending out naigs against the government, why, conscience!
sir, I thought my best chance for payment was e'en to GAE OUT
[Footnote: See Note 3.] mysell; and ye may judge, sir, as I hae
dealt a' my life in halters, I think na mickle o' putting my craig
in peril of a Saint John-stone's tippet.'

'You are not, then, by profession a soldier?' said Waverley.

'Na, na; thank God,' answered this doughty partizan, 'I wasna bred
at sae short a tether, I was brought up to hack and manger. I was
bred a horse-couper, sir; and if I might live to see you at
Whitson-tryst, or at Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick,
and ye wanted a spanker that would lead the field, I'se be caution
I would serve ye easy; for Jamie Jinker was ne'er the lad to
impose upon a gentleman. Ye're a gentleman, sir, and should ken a
horse's points; ye see that through--ganging thing that
Balmawhapple's on; I selled her till him. She was bred out of
Lick-the-ladle, that wan the king's plate at Caverton-Edge, by
Duke Hamilton's White-Foot,' etc., etc., etc.

But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree of
Balmawhapple's mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire
and great-grand-dam, and while Waverley was watching for an
opportunity to obtain from him intelligence of more interest, the
noble captain checked his horse until they came up, and then,
without directly appearing to notice Edward, said sternly to the
genealogist, 'I thought, lieutenant, my orders were preceese, that
no one should speak to the prisoner?'

The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and slunk
to the rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a vehement
dispute upon the price of hay with a farmer who had reluctantly
followed his laird to the field rather than give up his farm,
whereof the lease had just expired. Waverley was therefore once
more consigned to silence, foreseeing that further attempts at
conversation with any of the party would only give Balmawhapple a
wished-for opportunity to display the insolence of authority, and
the sulky spite of a temper naturally dogged, and rendered more so
by habits of low indulgence and the incense of servile adulation.

In about two hours' time the party were near the Castle of
Stirling, over whose battlements the union flag was brightened as
it waved in the evening sun. To shorten his journey, or perhaps to
display his importance and insult the English garrison,
Balmawhapple, inclining to the right, took his route through the
royal park, which reaches to and surrounds the rock upon which the
fortress is situated.

With a mind more at ease Waverley could not have failed to admire
the mixture of romance and beauty which renders interesting the
scene through which he was now passing--the field which had been
the scene of the tournaments of old--the rock from which the
ladies beheld the contest, while each made vows for the success of
some favourite knight--the towers of the Gothic church, where
these vows might be paid--and, surmounting all, the fortress
itself, at once a castle and palace, where valour received the
prize from royalty, and knights and dames closed the evening amid
the revelry of the dance, the song, and the feast. All these were
objects fitted to arouse and interest a romantic imagination.

But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an incident soon
occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind.
Balmawhapple, in the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little
body of cavalry round the base of the Castle, commanded his
trumpet to sound a flourish and his standard to be displayed. This
insult produced apparently some sensation; for when the cavalcade
was at such distance from the southern battery as to admit of a
gun being depressed so as to bear upon them, a flash of fire
issued from one of the embrazures upon the rock; and ere the
report with which it was attended could be heard, the rushing
sound of a cannon-ball passed over Balmawhapple's head, and the
bullet, burying itself in the ground at a few yards' distance,
covered him with the earth which it drove up. There was no need to
bid the party trudge. In fact, every man, acting upon the impulse
of the moment, soon brought Mr. Jinker's steeds to show their
mettle, and the cavaliers, retreating with more speed than
regularity, never took to a trot, as the lieutenant afterwards
observed, until an intervening eminence had secured them from any
repetition of so undesirable a compliment on the part of Stirling
Castle. I must do Balmawhapple, however, the justice to say that
he not only kept the rear of his troop, and laboured to maintain
some order among them, but, in the height of his gallantry,
answered the fire of the Castle by discharging one of his horse-
pistols at the battlements; although, the distance being nearly
half a mile, I could never learn that this measure of retaliation
was attended with any particular effect.

The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn and
reached the Torwood, a place glorious or terrible to the
recollections of the Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace or
the cruelties of Wude Willie Grime predominate in his
recollection. At Falkirk, a town formerly famous in Scottish
history, and soon to be again distinguished as the scene of
military events of importance, Balmawhapple proposed to halt and
repose for the evening. This was performed with very little regard
to military discipline, his worthy quarter-master being chiefly
solicitous to discover where the best brandy might be come at.
Sentinels were deemed unnecessary, and the only vigils performed
were those of such of the party as could procure liquor. A few
resolute men might easily have cut off the detachment; but of the
inhabitants some were favourable, many indifferent, and the rest
overawed. So nothing memorable occurred in the course of the
evening, except that Waverley's rest was sorely interrupted by the
revellers hallooing forth their Jacobite songs, without remorse or
mitigation of voice.

Early in the morning they were again mounted and on the road to
Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop betrayed
that they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery. They halted
at Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace, which Sixty
Years Since was entire and habitable, and whose venerable ruins,
NOT QUITE SIXTY YEARS SINCE, very narrowly escaped the unworthy
fate of being converted into a barrack for French prisoners. May
repose and blessings attend the ashes of the patriotic statesman
who, amongst his last services to Scotland, interposed to prevent
this profanation!

As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a champaign
and cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be heard. The
distant yet distinct report of heavy cannon, fired at intervals,
apprized Waverley that the work of destruction was going forward.
Even Balmawhapple seemed moved to take some precautions, by
sending an advanced party in front of his troop, keeping the main
body in tolerable order, and moving steadily forward.

Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, from
which they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy hill
which slopes eastward from the Castle. The latter, being in a
state of siege, or rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents,
who had already occupied the town for two or three days, fired at
intervals upon such parties of Highlanders as exposed themselves,
either on the main street or elsewhere in the vicinity of the
fortress. The morning being calm and fair, the effect of this
dropping fire was to invest the Castle in wreaths of smoke, the
edges of which dissipated slowly in the air, while the central
veil was darkened ever and anon by fresh clouds poured forth from
the battlements; the whole giving, by the partial concealment, an
appearance of grandeur and gloom, rendered more terrific when
Waverley reflected on the cause by which it was produced, and that
each explosion might ring some brave man's knell.

Ere they approached the city the partial cannonade had wholly
ceased. Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the
unfriendly greeting which his troop had received from the battery
at Stirling, had apparently no wish to tempt the forbearance of
the artillery of the Castle. He therefore left the direct road,
and, sweeping considerably to the southward so as to keep out of
the range of the cannon, approached the ancient palace of Holyrood
without having entered the walls of the city. He then drew up his
men in front of that venerable pile, and delivered Waverley to the
custody of a guard of Highlanders, whose officer conducted him
into the interior of the building.

A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures,
affirmed to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever
flourished at all, lived several hundred years before the
invention of painting in oil colours, served as a sort of guard
chamber or vestibule to the apartments which the adventurous
Charles Edward now occupied in the palace of his ancestors.
Officers, both in the Highland and Lowland garb, passed and
repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall as if waiting for
orders. Secretaries were engaged in making out passes, musters,
and returns. All seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon something
of importance; but Waverley was suffered to remain seated in the
recess of a window, unnoticed by any one, in anxious reflection
upon the crisis of his fate, which seemed now rapidly approaching.





CHAPTER XL

AN OLD AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE


While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the rustle of tartans was
heard behind him, a friendly arm clasped his shoulders, and a
friendly voice exclaimed,

'Said the Highland prophet sooth? Or must second-sight go for
nothing?'

Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fergus Mac-Ivor. 'A
thousand welcomes to Holyrood, once more possessed by her
legitimate sovereign! Did I not say we should prosper, and that
you would fall into the hands of the Philistines if you parted
from us?'

'Dear Fergus!' said Waverley, eagerly returning his greeting. 'It
is long since I have heard a friend's voice. Where is Flora?'

'Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success.'

'In this place?' said Waverley.

'Ay, in this city at least,' answered his friend, 'and you shall
see her; but first you must meet a friend whom you little think
of, who has been frequent in his inquiries after you.'

Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arm out of the guard
chamber, and, ere he knew where he was conducted, Edward found
himself in a presence room, fitted up with some attempt at royal
state.

A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished by the
dignity of his mien and the noble expression of his well-formed
and regular features, advanced out of a circle of military
gentlemen and Highland chiefs by whom he was surrounded. In his
easy and graceful manners Waverley afterwards thought he could
have discovered his high birth and rank, although the star on his
breast and the embroidered garter at his knee had not appeared as
its indications.

'Let me present to your Royal Highness,' said Fergus, bowing
profoundly--

'The descendant of one of the most ancient and loyal families in
England,' said the young Chevalier, interrupting him. 'I beg your
pardon for interrupting you, my dear Mac-Ivor; but no master of
ceremonies is necessary to present a Waverley to a Stuart.'

Thus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with the utmost
courtesy, who could not, had he desired it, have avoided rendering
him the homage which seemed due to his rank, and was certainly the
right of his birth. 'I am sorry to understand, Mr. Waverley, that,
owing to circumstances which have been as yet but ill explained,
you have suffered some restraint among my followers in Perthshire
and on your march here; but we are in such a situation that we
hardly know our friends, and I am even at this moment uncertain
whether I can have the pleasure of considering Mr. Waverley as
among mine.'

He then paused for an instant; but before Edward could adjust a
suitable reply, or even arrange his ideas as to its purport, the
Prince took out a paper and then proceeded:--'I should indeed have
no doubts upon this subject if I could trust to this proclamation,
set forth by the friends of the Elector of Hanover, in which they
rank Mr. Waverley among the nobility and gentry who are menaced
with the pains of high-treason for loyalty to their legitimate
sovereign. But I desire to gain no adherents save from affection
and conviction; and if Mr. Waverley inclines to prosecute his
journey to the south, or to join the forces of the Elector, he
shall have my passport and free permission to do so; and I can
only regret that my present power will not extend to protect him
against the probable consequences of such a measure. But,'
continued Charles Edward, after another short pause, 'if Mr.
Waverley should, like his ancestor, Sir Nigel, determine to
embrace a cause which has little to recommend it but its justice,
and follow a prince who throws himself upon the affections of his
people to recover the throne of his ancestors or perish in the
attempt, I can only say, that among these nobles and gentlemen he
will find worthy associates in a gallant enterprise, and will
follow a master who may be unfortunate, but, I trust, will never
be ungrateful.'

The politic Chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his advantage in
introducing Waverley to this personal interview with the royal
adventurer. Unaccustomed to the address and manners of a polished
court, in which Charles was eminently skilful, his words and his
kindness penetrated the heart of our hero, and easily outweighed
all prudential motives. To be thus personally solicited for
assistance by a prince whose form and manners, as well as the
spirit which he displayed in this singular enterprise, answered
his ideas of a hero of romance; to be courted by him in the
ancient halls of his paternal palace, recovered by the sword which
he was already bending towards other conquests, gave Edward, in
his own eyes, the dignity and importance which he had ceased to
consider as his attributes. Rejected, slandered, and threatened
upon the one side, he was irresistibly attracted to the cause
which the prejudices of education and the political principles of
his family had already recommended as the most just. These
thoughts rushed through his mind like a torrent, sweeping before
them every consideration of an opposite tendency,--the time,
besides, admitted of no deliberation,--and Waverley, kneeling to
Charles Edward, devoted his heart and sword to the vindication of
his rights!

The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and follies of
his forefathers, we shall here and elsewhere give him the title
due to his birth) raised Waverley from the ground and embraced him
with an expression of thanks too warm not to be genuine. He also
thanked Fergus Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having brought him such an
adherent, and presented Waverley to the various noblemen,
chieftains, and officers who were about his person as a young
gentleman of the highest hopes and prospects, in whose bold and
enthusiastic avowal of his cause they might see an evidence of the
sentiments of the English families of rank at this important
crisis. [Footnote: See Note 4.] Indeed, this was a point much
doubted among the adherents of the house of Stuart; and as a well-
founded disbelief in the cooperation of the English Jacobites kept
many Scottish men of rank from his standard, and diminished the
courage of those who had joined it, nothing could be more
seasonable for the Chevalier than the open declaration in his
favour of the representative of the house of Waverley-Honour, so
long known as Cavaliers and Royalists. This Fergus had foreseen
from the beginning. He really loved Waverley, because their
feelings and projects never thwarted each other; he hoped to see
him united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were effectually
engaged in the same cause. But, as we before hinted, he also
exulted as a politician in beholding secured to his party a
partizan of such consequence; and he was far from being insensible
to the personal importance which he himself gained with the Prince
from having so materially assisted in making the acquisition.

Charles Edward, on his part, seemed eager to show his attendants
the value which he attached to his new adherent, by entering
immediately, as in confidence, upon the circumstances of his
situation. 'You have been secluded so much from intelligence, Mr.
Waverley, from causes of which I am but indistinctly informed,
that I presume you are even yet unacquainted with the important
particulars of my present situation. You have, however, heard of
my landing in the remote district of Moidart, with only seven
attendants, and of the numerous chiefs and clans whose loyal
enthusiasm at once placed a solitary adventurer at the head of a
gallant army. You must also, I think, have learned that the
commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian Elector, Sir John Cope,
marched into the Highlands at the head of a numerous and well-
appointed military force with the intention of giving us battle,
but that his courage failed him when we were within three hours'
march of each other, so that he fairly gave us the slip and
marched northward to Aberdeen, leaving the Low Country open and
undefended. Not to lose so favourable an opportunity, I marched on
to this metropolis, driving before me two regiments of horse,
Gardiner's and Hamilton's, who had threatened to cut to pieces
every Highlander that should venture to pass Stirling; and while
discussions were carrying forward among the magistracy and
citizens of Edinburgh whether they should defend themselves or
surrender, my good friend Lochiel (laying his hand on the shoulder
of that gallant and accomplished chieftain) saved them the trouble
of farther deliberation by entering the gates with five hundred
Camerons. Thus far, therefore, we have done well; but, in the
meanwhile, this doughty general's nerves being braced by the keen
air of Aberdeen, he has taken shipping for Dunbar, and I have just
received certain information that he landed there yesterday. His
purpose must unquestionably be to march towards us to recover
possession of the capital. Now there are two opinions in my
council of war: one, that being inferior probably in numbers, and
certainly in discipline and military appointments, not to mention
our total want of artillery and the weakness of our cavalry, it
will be safest to fall back towards the mountains, and there
protract the war until fresh succours arrive from France, and the
whole body of the Highland clans shall have taken arms in our
favour. The opposite opinion maintains, that a retrograde
movement, in our circumstances, is certain to throw utter
discredit on our arms and undertaking; and, far from gaining us
new partizans, will be the means of disheartening those who have
joined our standard. The officers who use these last arguments,
among whom is your friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, maintain that, if the
Highlanders are strangers to the usual military discipline of
Europe, the soldiers whom they are to encounter are no less
strangers to their peculiar and formidable mode of attack; that
the attachment and courage of the chiefs and gentlemen are not to
be doubted; and that, as they will be in the midst of the enemy,
their clansmen will as surely follow them; in fine, that having
drawn the sword we should throw away the scabbard, and trust our
cause to battle and to the God of battles. Will Mr. Waverley
favour us with his opinion in these arduous circumstances?'

Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modesty at the
distinction implied in this question, and answered, with equal
spirit and readiness, that he could not venture to offer an
opinion as derived from military skill, but that the counsel would
be far the most acceptable to him which should first afford him an
opportunity to evince his zeal in his Royal Highness's service.

'Spoken like a Waverley!' answered Charles Edward; 'and that you
may hold a rank in some degree corresponding to your name, allow
me, instead of the captain's commission which you have lost, to
offer you the brevet rank of major in my service, with the
advantage of acting as one of my aides-de-camp until you can be
attached to a regiment, of which I hope several will be speedily
embodied.'

'Your Royal Highness will forgive me,' answered Waverley (for his
recollection turned to Balmawhapple and his scanty troop), 'if I
decline accepting any rank until the time and place where I may
have interest enough to raise a sufficient body of men to make my
command useful to your Royal Highness's service. In the meanwhile,
I hope for your permission to serve as a volunteer under my friend
Fergus Mac-Ivor.'

'At least,' said the Prince, who was obviously pleased with this
proposal, 'allow me the pleasure of arming you after the Highland
fashion.' With these words, he unbuckled the broadsword which he
wore, the belt of which was plaited with silver, and the steel
basket-hilt richly and curiously inlaid. 'The blade,' said the
Prince, 'is a genuine Andrea Ferrara; it has been a sort of heir-
loom in our family; but I am convinced I put it into better hands
than my own, and will add to it pistols of the same workmanship.
Colonel Mac-Ivor, you must have much to say to your friend; I will
detain you no longer from your private conversation; but remember
we expect you both to attend us in the evening. It may be perhaps
the last night we may enjoy in these halls, and as we go to the
field with a clear conscience, we will spend the eve of battle
merrily.'

Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the presence-chamber.





CHAPTER XLI

THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP


'How do you like him?' was Fergus's first question, as they
descended the large stone staircase.

'A prince to live and die under' was Waverley's enthusiastic
answer.

'I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended you
should have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain. And yet
he has his foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play, and
his Irish officers, [Footnote: See Note 5.] who are much about
him, are but sorry advisers: they cannot discriminate among the
numerous pretensions that are set up. Would you think it--I have
been obliged for the present to suppress an earl's patent, granted
for services rendered ten years ago, for fear of exciting the
jealousy, forsooth, of C----and M----? But you were very right,
Edward, to refuse the situation of aide-de-camp. There are two
vacant, indeed, but Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of us,
have requested one for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and
the Irish party are equally desirous to have the other for the
master of F--. Now, if either of these candidates were to be
superseded in your favour, you would make enemies. And then I am
surprised that the Prince should have offered you a majority, when
he knows very well that nothing short of lieutenant-colonel will
satisfy others, who cannot bring one hundred and fifty men to the
field. "But patience, cousin, and shuffle the cards!" It is all
very well for the present, and we must have you properly equipped
for the evening in your new costume; for, to say truth, your
outward man is scarce fit for a court.'

'Why,' said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress,'my shooting
jacket has seen service since we parted; but that probably you, my
friend, know as well or better than I.'

'You do my second-sight too much honour,' said Fergus. 'We were so
busy, first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and
afterwards with our operations in the Lowlands, that I could only
give general directions to such of our people as were left in
Perthshire to respect and protect you, should you come in their
way. But let me hear the full story of your adventures, for they
have reached us in a very partial and mutilated manner.'

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the
reader is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great
attention. By this time they had reached the door of his quarters,
which he had taken up in a small paved court, retiring from the
street called the Canongate, at the house of a buxom widow of
forty, who seemed to smile very graciously upon the handsome young
Chief, she being a person with whom good looks and good-humour
were sure to secure an interest, whatever might be the party's
"political opinions". Here Callum Beg received them with a smile
of recognition. 'Callum,' said the Chief, 'call Shemus an Snachad'
(James of the Needle). This was the hereditary tailor of Vich lan
Vohr. 'Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear the cath dath (battle
colour, or tartan); his trews must be ready in four hours. You
know the measure of a well-made man--two double nails to the small
of the leg--'

'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist. I give your
honour leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the
Highlands that has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the cumadh an
truais' (shape of the trews).

'Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan and sash,' continued the
Chieftain, 'and a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr.
Mouat's in the Crames. My short green coat, with silver lace and
silver buttons, will fit him exactly, and I have never worn it.
Tell Ensign Maccombich to pick out a handsome target from among
mine. The Prince has given Mr. Waverley broadsword and pistols, I
will furnish him with a dirk and purse; add but a pair of low-
heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward (turning to him), you will
be a complete son of Ivor.'

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the
subject of Waverley's adventures. 'It is plain,' he said,'that you
have been in the custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know that,
when I marched away my clan to join the Prince, I laid my
injunctions on that worthy member of society to perform a certain
piece of service, which done, he was to join me with all the force
he could muster. But, instead of doing so, the gentleman, finding
the coast clear, thought it better to make war on his own account,
and has scoured the country, plundering, I believe, both friend
and foe, under pretence of levying blackmail, sometimes as if by
my authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his consummate
impudence) in his own great name! Upon my honour, if I live to see
the cairn of Benmore again, I shall be tempted to hang that
fellow! I recognise his hand particularly in the mode of your
rescue from that canting rascal Gilfillan, and I have little doubt
that Donald himself played the part of the pedlar on that
occasion; but how he should not have plundered you, or put you to
ransom, or availed himself in some way or other of your captivity
for his own advantage, passes my judgment.'

'When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confinement?'
asked Waverley.

'The Prince himself told me,' said Fergus, 'and inquired very
minutely into your history. He then mentioned your being at that
moment in the power of one of our northern parties--you know I
could not ask him to explain particulars--and requested my opinion
about disposing of you. I recommended that you should be brought
here as a prisoner, because I did not wish to prejudice you
farther with the English government, in case you pursued your
purpose of going southward. I knew nothing, you must recollect, of
the charge brought against you of aiding and abetting high
treason, which, I presume, had some share in changing your
original plan. That sullen, good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple,
was sent to escort you from Doune, with what he calls his troop of
horse. As to his behaviour, in addition to his natural antipathy
to everything that resembles a gentleman, I presume his adventure
with Bradwardine rankles in his recollection, the rather that I
daresay his mode of telling that story contributed to the evil
reports which reached your quondam regiment.'

'Very likely,' said Waverley; 'but now surely, my dear Fergus, you
may find time to tell me something of Flora.'

'Why,' replied Fergus, 'I can only tell you that she is well, and
residing for the present with a relation in this city. I thought
it better she should come here, as since our success a good many
ladies of rank attend our military court; and I assure you that
there is a sort of consequence annexed to the near relative of
such a person as Flora Mac-Ivor, and where there is such a
justling of claims and requests, a man must use every fair means
to enhance his importance.'

There was something in this last sentence which grated on
Waverley's feelings. He could not bear that Flora should be
considered as conducing to her brother's preferment by the
admiration which she must unquestionably attract; and although it
was in strict correspondence with many points of Fergus's
character, it shocked him as selfish, and unworthy of his sister's
high mind and his own independent pride. Fergus, to whom such
manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at the French
court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which he had
unwarily made upon his friend's mind, and concluded by saying,'
that they could hardly see Flora before the evening, when she
would be at the concert and ball with which the Prince's party
were to be entertained. She and I had a quarrel about her not
appearing to take leave of you. I am unwilling to renew it by
soliciting her to receive you this morning; and perhaps my doing
so might not only be ineffectual, but prevent your meeting this
evening.'

While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the
windows of the parlour, a well-known voice. 'I aver to you, my
worthy friend,' said the speaker, 'that it is a total dereliction
of military discipline; and were you not as it were a tyro, your
purpose would deserve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is
on no account to be coerced with fetters, or debinded in
ergastulo, as would have been the case had you put this gentleman
into the pit of the peel-house at Balmawhapple. I grant, indeed,
that such a prisoner may for security be coerced in carcere, that
is, in a public prison.'

The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in
displeasure, but the word 'land-louper' alone was distinctly
audible. He had disappeared before Waverley reached the house in
order to greet the worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform in
which he was now attired, a blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a
scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed to
have added fresh stiffness and rigidity to his tall, perpendicular
figure; and the consciousness of military command and authority
had increased, in the same proportion, the self-importance of his
demeanour and the dogmatism of his conversation.

He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed
immediate anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances
attending the loss of his commission in Gardiner's dragoons;
'not,' he said, 'that he had the least apprehension of his young
friend having done aught which could merit such ungenerous
treatment as he had received from government, but because it was
right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be, in point
of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all calumnies
against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so much right to
regard as his own son.'

Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over the
circumstances of Waverley's story, and concluded with the
flattering reception he had met from the young Chevalier. The
Baron listened in silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley
heartily by the hand and congratulated him upon entering the
service of his lawful Prince. 'For,' continued he, 'although it
has been justly held in all nations a matter of scandal and
dishonour to infringe the sacramentum militare, and that whether
it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans denominated
per conjurationem, or by one soldier in name of the rest, yet no
one ever doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by
the dimissio, or discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as
hard as that of colliers, salters, and other adscripti glebes, or
slaves of the soil, were it to be accounted otherwise. This is
something like the brocard expressed by the learned Sanchez in his
work "De Jure-jurando" which you have questionless consulted upon
this occasion. As for those who have calumniated you by leasing-
making, I protest to Heaven I think they have justly incurred the
penalty of the "Memnonia Lex," also called "Lex Rhemnia," which is
prelected upon by Tullius in his oration "In Verrem." I should
have deemed, however, Mr. Waverley, that before destining yourself
to any special service in the army of the Prince, ye might have
inquired what rank the old Bradwardine held there, and whether he
would not have been peculiarly happy to have had your services in
the regiment of horse which he is now about to levy.' Edward
eluded this reproach by pleading the necessity of giving an
immediate answer to the Prince's proposal, and his uncertainty at
the moment whether his friend the Baron was with the army or
engaged upon service elsewhere.

This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss
Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with Flora
Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain's men. This step
was indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a very
unpleasant, and even dangerous, place of residence for an
unprotected young lady, on account of its vicinity to the
Highlands, and also to one or two large villages which, from
aversion as much to the caterans as zeal for presbytery, had
declared themselves on the side of government, and formed
irregular bodies of partizans, who had frequent skirmishes with
the mountaineers, and sometimes attacked the houses of the
Jacobite gentry in the braes, or frontier betwixt the mountain and
plain.

'I would propose to you,' continued the Baron,'to walk as far as
my quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your passage the
High Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, finer than
any street whether in London or Paris. But Rose, poor thing, is
sorely discomposed with the firing of the Castle, though I have
proved to her from Blondel and Coehorn, that it is impossible a
bullet can reach these buildings; and, besides, I have it in
charge from his Royal Highness to go to the camp, or leaguer of
our army, to see that the men do condamare vasa, that is, truss up
their bag and baggage for tomorrow's march.'

'That will be easily done by most of us,' said Mac-Ivor, laughing.

'Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as ye
seem to opine. I grant most of your folk left the Highlands
expedited as it were, and free from the incumbrance of baggage;
but it is unspeakable the quantity of useless sprechery which they
have collected on their march. I saw one fellow of yours (craving
your pardon once more) with a pier-glass upon his back.'

'Ay,' said Fergus, still in good-humour, 'he would have told you,
if you had questioned him, "a ganging foot is aye getting." But
come, my dear Baron, you know as well as I that a hundred Uhlans,
or a single troop of Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make more
havoc in a country than the knight of the mirror and all the rest
of our clans put together.'

'And that is very true likewise,' replied the Baron; 'they are, as
the heathen author says, ferociores in aspectu, mitiores in actu,
of a horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than
their physiognomy or aspect might infer. But I stand here talking
to you two youngsters when I should be in the King's Park.'

'But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return? I assure
you, Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must, I
remember my Paris education, and understand perfectly faire la
meilleure chere.'

'And wha the deil doubts it,' quoth the Baron, laughing, 'when ye
bring only the cookery and the gude toun must furnish the
materials? Weel, I have some business in the toun too; but I'll
join you at three, if the vivers can tarry so long.'

So saying, he took leave of his friends and went to look after the
charge which had been assigned him.





CHAPTER XLII

A SOLDIER'S DINNER


James of the Needle was a man of his word when whisky was no party
to the contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who still
thought himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined
accepting compensation at the expense of mine host of the
Candlestick's person, took the opportunity of discharging the
obligation, by mounting guard over the hereditary tailor of
Sliochd nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself, 'targed him
tightly' till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of this
restraint, Shemus's needle flew through the tartan like lightning;
and as the artist kept chanting some dreadful skirmish of Fin
Macoul, he accomplished at least three stitches to the death of
every hero. The dress was, therefore, soon ready, for the short
coat fitted the wearer, and the rest of the apparel required
little adjustment.

Our hero having now fairly assumed the 'garb of old Gaul,' well
calculated as it was to give an appearance of strength to a figure
which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than robust,
I hope my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at himself in
the mirror more than once, and could not help acknowledging that
the reflection seemed that of a very handsome young fellow. In
fact, there was no disguising it. His light-brown hair--for he
wore no periwig, notwithstanding the universal fashion of the
time--became the bonnet which surmounted it. His person promised
firmness and agility, to which the ample folds of the tartan added
an air of dignity. His blue eye seemed of that kind,

    Which melted in love, and which kindled in war;

and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want
of habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his
features, without injuring their grace or intelligence.

'He's a pratty man, a very pratty man,' said Evan Dhu (now Ensign
Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.

'He's vera weel,' said the Widow Flockhart, 'but no naething sae
weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign.'

'I wasna comparing them,' quoth Evan, 'nor was I speaking about
his being weel-favoured; but only that Mr. Waverley looks clean-
made and deliver, and like a proper lad o' his quarters, that will
not cry barley in a brulzie. And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at the
broadsword and target. I hae played wi' him mysell at
Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich lan Vohr, often of a Sunday
afternoon.'

'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,' said the alarmed
Presbyterian; 'I'm sure the colonel wad never do the like o'
that!'

'Hout! hout! Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the ensign, 'we're young
blude, ye ken; and young saints, auld deils.'

'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Maccombich?'
demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest.

'Troth I'se ensure him, an he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart,' replied
the Gael.

'And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, Ensign
Maccombich?' again inquired the landlady.

'Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the
deevil tak the shortest nails.'

'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'

'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be,
by Saint Phedar.'

'Merciful goodness! and if he's killed amang the redcoats!'
exclaimed the soft-hearted widow.

'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that
will no be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day,
and have our dinner; and there's Vich lan Vohr has packed his
dorlach, and Mr. Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the
muckle pier-glass; and that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o'
Bradwardine that shot young Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming
down the close wi' that droghling coghling bailie body they ca'
Macwhupple, just like the Laird o' Kittlegab's French cook, wi'
his turnspit doggie trindling ahint him, and I am as hungry as a
gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the broo', and do ye put
on your pinners, for ye ken Vich lan Vohr winna sit down till ye
be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the pint bottle o'
brandy, my woman.'

This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds
like the sun through a mist, took the head of the table, thinking
within herself, perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion
lasted that brought her into company so much above her usual
associates. She was supported by Waverley and the Baron, with the
advantage of the Chieftain vis-a-vis. The men of peace and of war,
that is, Bailie Macwheeble and Ensign Maccombich, after many
profound conges to their superiors and each other, took their
places on each side of the Chieftain. Their fare was excellent,
time, place, and circumstances considered, and Fergus's spirits
were extravagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine from
temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination all his
prospects crowned with success, and was totally indifferent to the
probable alternative of a soldier's grave. The Baron apologized
slightly for bringing Macwheeble. They had been providing, he
said, for the expenses of the campaign. 'And, by my faith,' said
the old man, 'as I think this will be my last, so I just end where
I began: I hae evermore found the sinews of war, as a learned
author calls the caisse militaire, mair difficult to come by than
either its flesh, blood, or bones.'

'What! have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry and got
ye none of the louis-d'or out of the Doutelle [Footnote: The
Doutelle was an armed vessel which brought a small supply of money
and arms from France for the use of the insurgents.] to help you?'

'No, Glennaquoich; cleverer fellows have been before me.'

'That's a scandal,' said the young Highlander; 'but you will share
what is left of my subsidy; it will save you an anxious thought
tonight, and will be all one tomorrow, for we shall all be
provided for, one way or other, before the sun sets.' Waverley,
blushing deeply, but with great earnestness, pressed the same
request.

'I thank ye baith, my good lads,' said the Baron, 'but I will not
infringe upon your peculium. Bailie Macwheeble has provided the
sum which is necessary.'

Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and
appeared extremely uneasy. At length, after several preliminary
hems, and much tautological expression of his devotion to his
honour's service, by night or day, living or dead, he began to
insinuate, 'that the banks had removed a' their ready cash into
the Castle; that, nae doubt, Sandie Goldie, the silversmith, would
do mickle for his honour; but there was little time to get the
wadset made out; and, doubtless, if his honour Glennaquoich or Mr.
Wauverley could accommodate--'

'Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,' said the Baron, in a tone
which rendered Macwheeble mute, 'but proceed as we accorded before
dinner, if it be your wish to remain in my service.'

To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if
condemned to suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins into
those of the Baron, did not presume to make any reply. After
fidgeting a little while longer, however, he addressed himself to
Glennaquoich, and told him, if his honour had mair ready siller
than was sufficient for his occasions in the field, he could put
it out at use for his honour in safe hands and at great profit at
this time.

At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he
had recovered his breath--'Many thanks, Bailie; but you must know,
it is a general custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our
banker. Here, Mrs. Flockhart,' said he, taking four or five broad
pieces out of a well-filled purse and tossing the purse itself,
with its remaining contents, into her apron, 'these will serve my
occasions; do you take the rest. Be my banker if I live, and my
executor if I die; but take care to give something to the Highland
cailliachs [Footnote: Old women, on whom devolved the duty of
lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call keening.] that shall
cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich lan Vohr.'

'It is the testamentum militare,' quoth the Baron, 'whilk, amang
the Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.' But the soft
heart of Mrs. Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain's
speech; she set up a lamentable blubbering, and positively refused
to touch the bequest, which Fergus was therefore obliged to
resume.

'Well, then,' said the Chief, 'if I fall, it will go to the
grenadier that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he
works hard for it.'

Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where
cash was concerned he did not willingly remain silent. 'Perhaps he
had better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of mortality
or accidents of war. It might tak the form of a mortis causa
donation in the young leddie's favour, and--wad cost but the
scrape of a pen to mak it out.'

'The young lady,' said Fergus, 'should such an event happen, will
have other matters to think of than these wretched louis-d'or.'

'True--undeniable--there's nae doubt o' that; but your honour kens
that a full sorrow--'

'Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one? True,
Bailie, very true; and I believe there may even be some who would
be consoled by such a reflection for the loss of the whole
existing generation. But there is a sorrow which knows neither
hunger nor thirst; and poor Flora--' He paused, and the whole
company sympathised in his emotion.

The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state
of his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye. 'If I
fall, Macwheeble, you have all my papers and know all my affairs;
be just to Rose.'

The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of
dirt and dross about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just
feelings he had, especially where the Baron or his young mistress
were concerned. He set up a lamentable howl. 'If that doleful day
should come, while Duncan Macwheeble had a boddle it should be
Miss Rose's. He wald scroll for a plack the sheet or she kenn'd
what it was to want; if indeed a' the bonnie baronie o'
Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the fortalice and manor-place
thereof (he kept sobbing and whining at every pause), tofts,
crofts, mosses, muirs--outfield, infield--buildings--orchards--
dove-cots--with the right of net and coble in the water and loch
of Veolan--teinds, parsonage and vicarage--annexis, connexis--
rights of pasturage--feul, feal and divot--parts, pendicles, and
pertinents whatsoever--(here he had recourse to the end of his
long cravat to wipe his eyes, which overflowed, in spite of him,
at the ideas which this technical jargon conjured up)--all as more
fully described in the proper evidents and titles thereof--and
lying within the parish of Bradwardine and the shire of Perth--if,
as aforesaid, they must a' pass from my master's child to Inch-
Grabbit, wha's a Whig and a Hanoverian, and be managed by his
doer, Jamie Howie, wha's no fit to be a birlieman, let be a
bailie--'

The beginning of this lamentation really had something affecting,
but the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. 'Never mind,
Bailie,' said Ensign Maccombich, 'for the gude auld times of
rugging and riving (pulling and tearing) are come back again, an'
Sneckus Mac-Snackus (meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), and a'
the rest of your friends, maun gie place to the langest claymore.'

'And that claymore shall be ours, Bailie,' said the Chieftain, who
saw that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation.

    'We'll give them the metal our mountain affords,
        Lillibulero, bullen a la,
    And in place of broad-pieces, we'll pay with broadswords,
        Lero, lero, etc.
    With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score,
        Lillibulero, etc.
    For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more,
        Lero, lero, etc.

[Footnote: These lines, or something like them, occur in an old
magazine of the period.]

But come, Bailie, be not cast down; drink your wine with a joyous
heart; the Baron shall return safe and victorious to Tully-Veolan,
and unite Killancureit's lairdship with his own, since the
cowardly half-bred swine will not turn out for the Prince like a
gentleman.'

'To be sure, they lie maist ewest,' said the Bailie, wiping his
eyes, 'and should naturally fa' under the same factory.'

'And I,' proceeded the Chieftain,'shall take care of myself, too;
for you must know, I have to complete a good work here, by
bringing Mrs. Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic church, or
at least half way, and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house. O
Baron! if you heard her fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and
Matty in the morning, you, who understand music, would tremble at
the idea of hearing her shriek in the psalmody of Haddo's Hole.'

'Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on! But I hope your honours
will tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun gang and
mask it for you.'

So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own
conversation, which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon the
approaching events of the campaign.





CHAPTER XLIII

THE BALL


Ensign MacCombich having gone to the Highland camp upon duty, and
Bailie Macwheeble having retired to digest his dinner and Evan
Dhu's intimation of martial law in some blind change-house,
Waverley, with the Baron and the Chieftain, proceeded to Holyrood
House. The two last were in full tide of spirits, and the Baron
rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure which his new
dress displayed to advantage. 'If you have any design upon the
heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, I would premonish you, when you
address her, to remember and quote the words of Virgilius:--

    Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
    Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes;

whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan Donnochy
(unless the claims of Lude ought to be preferred primo loco), has
thus elegantly rendered:--

    For cruel love had gartan'd low my leg,
    And clad my hurdies in a philabeg.

Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve
maist of the twa, as mair ancient and seemly.' 'Or rather,' said
Fergus, 'hear my song:--

    She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
      Nor be an English lady;
    But she's away with Duncan Grame,
      And he's row'd her in his plaidy.'

By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, and were
announced respectively as they entered the apartments.

It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, education,
and fortune took a concern in the ill-fated and desperate
undertaking of 1745. The ladies, also, of Scotland very generally
espoused the cause of the gallant and handsome young Prince, who
threw himself upon the mercy of his countrymen rather like a hero
of romance than a calculating politician. It is not, therefore, to
be wondered that Edward, who had spent the greater part of his
life in the solemn seclusion of Waverley-Honour, should have been
dazzled at the liveliness and elegance of the scene now exhibited
in the long deserted halls of the Scottish palace. The
accompaniments, indeed, fell short of splendour, being such as the
confusion and hurry of the time admitted; still, however, the
general effect was striking, and, the rank of the company
considered, might well be called brilliant.

It was not long before the lover's eye discovered the object of
his attachment. Flora Mac-Ivor was in the act of returning to her
seat, near the top of the room, with Rose Bradwardine by her side.
Among much elegance and beauty, they had attracted a great degree
of the public attention, being certainly two of the handsomest
women present. The Prince took much notice of both, particularly
of Flora, with whom he danced, a preference which she probably
owed to her foreign education and command of the French and
Italian languages.

When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance permitted,
Edward almost intuitively followed Fergus to the place where Miss
Mac-Ivor was seated. The sensation of hope with which he had
nursed his affection in absence of the beloved object seemed to
vanish in her presence, and, like one striving to recover the
particulars of a forgotten dream, he would have given the world at
that moment to have recollected the grounds on which he had
founded expectations which now seemed so delusive. He accompanied
Fergus with downcast eyes, tingling ears, and the feelings of the
criminal who, while the melancholy cart moves slowly through the
crowds that have assembled to behold his execution, receives no
clear sensation either from the noise which fills his ears or the
tumult on which he casts his wandering look. Flora seemed a
little--a very little--affected and discomposed at his approach.
'I bring you an adopted son of Ivor,' said Fergus.

'And I receive him as a second brother,' replied Flora.

There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would have escaped
every ear but one that was feverish with apprehension. It was,
however, distinctly marked, and, combined with her whole tone and
manner, plainly intimated, 'I will never think of Mr. Waverley as
a more intimate connexion.' Edward stopped, bowed, and looked at
Fergus, who bit his lip, a movement of anger which proved that he
also had put a sinister interpretation on the reception which his
sister had given his friend. 'This, then, is an end of my day-
dream!' Such was Waverley's first thought, and it was so
exquisitely painful as to banish from his cheek every drop of
blood.

'Good God!' said Rose Bradwardine, 'he is not yet recovered!'

These words, which she uttered with great emotion, were overheard
by the Chevalier himself, who stepped hastily forward, and, taking
Waverley by the hand, inquired kindly after his health, and added
that he wished to speak with him. By a strong and sudden effort;
which the circumstances rendered indispensable, Waverley recovered
himself so far as to follow the Chevalier in silence to a recess
in the apartment.

Here the Prince detained him some time, asking various questions
about the great Tory and Catholic families of England, their
connexions, their influence, and the state of their affections
towards the house of Stuart. To these queries Edward could not at
any time have given more than general answers, and it may be
supposed that, in the present state of his feelings, his responses
were indistinct even to confusion. The Chevalier smiled once or
twice at the incongruity of his replies, but continued the same
style of conversation, although he found himself obliged to occupy
the principal share of it, until he perceived that Waverley had
recovered his presence of mind. It is probable that this long
audience was partly meant to further the idea which the Prince
desired should be entertained among his followers, that Waverley
was a character of political influence. But it appeared, from his
concluding expressions, that he had a different and good-natured
motive, personal to our hero, for prolonging the conference. 'I
cannot resist the temptation,' he said, 'of boasting of my own
discretion as a lady's confidant. You see, Mr. Waverley, that I
know all, and I assure you I am deeply interested in the affair.
But, my good young friend, you must put a more severe restraint
upon your feelings. There are many here whose eyes can see as
clearly as mine, but the prudence of whose tongues may not be
equally trusted,'

So saying, he turned easily away and joined a circle of officers
at a few paces' distance, leaving Waverley to meditate upon his
parting expression, which, though not intelligible to him in its
whole purport, was sufficiently so in the caution which the last
word recommended. Making, therefore, an effort to show himself
worthy of the interest which his new master had expressed, by
instant obedience to his recommendation, he walked up to the spot
where Flora and Miss Bradwardine were still seated, and having
made his compliments to the latter, he succeeded, even beyond his
own expectation, in entering into conversation upon general
topics.

If, my dear reader, thou hast ever happened to take post-horses
at----or at----(one at least of which blanks, or more probably
both, you will be able to fill up from an inn near your own
residence), you must have observed, and doubtless with sympathetic
pain, the reluctant agony with which the poor jades at first apply
their galled necks to the collars of the harness. But when the
irresistible arguments of the post-boy have prevailed upon them to
proceed a mile or two, they will become callous to the first
sensation; and being warm in the harness, as the said post-boy may
term it, proceed as if their withers were altogether unwrung. This
simile so much corresponds with the state of Waverley's feelings
in the course of this memorable evening, that I prefer it
(especially as being, I trust, wholly original) to any more
splendid illustration with which Byshe's 'Art of Poetry' might
supply me.

Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward; and our hero had,
moreover, other stimulating motives for persevering in a display
of affected composure and indifference to Flora's obvious
unkindness. Pride, which supplies its caustic as an useful, though
severe, remedy for the wounds of affection, came rapidly to his
aid. Distinguished by the favour of a prince; destined, he had
room to hope, to play a conspicuous part in the revolution which
awaited a mighty kingdom; excelling, probably, in mental
acquirements, and equalling at least in personal accomplishments,
most of the noble and distinguished persons with whom he was now
ranked; young, wealthy, and high-born,--could he, or ought he, to
droop beneath the frown of a capricious beauty?

    O nymph, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
    My bosom is proud as thine own.

With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which,
however, were not then written), [Footnote: They occur in Miss
Seward's fine verses, beginning--'To thy rocks, stormy Lannow,
adieu.'] Waverley determined upon convincing Flora that he was not
to be depressed by a rejection in which his vanity whispered that
perhaps she did her own prospects as much injustice as his. And,
to aid this change of feeling, there lurked the secret and
unacknowledged hope that she might learn to prize his affection
more highly, when she did not conceive it to be altogether within
her own choice to attract or repulse it. There was a mystic tone
of encouragement, also, in the Chevalier's words, though he feared
they only referred to the wishes of Fergus in favour of an union
between him and his sister. But the whole circumstances of time,
place, and incident combined at once to awaken his imagination and
to call upon him for a manly and decisive tone of conduct, leaving
to fate to dispose of the issue. Should he appear to be the only
one sad and disheartened on the eve of battle, how greedily would
the tale be commented upon by the slander which had been already
but too busy with his fame! Never, never, he internally resolved,
shall my unprovoked enemies possess such an advantage over my
reputation.

Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and cheered at
times by a smile of intelligence and approbation from the Prince
as he passed the group, Waverley exerted his powers of fancy,
animation, and eloquence, and attracted the general admiration of
the company. The conversation gradually assumed the tone best
qualified for the display of his talents and acquisitions. The
gaiety of the evening was exalted in character, rather than
checked, by the approaching dangers of the morrow. All nerves were
strung for the future, and prepared to enjoy the present. This
mood of mind is highly favourable for the exercise of the powers
of imagination, for poetry, and for that eloquence which is allied
to poetry. Waverley, as we have elsewhere observed, possessed at
times a wonderful flow of rhetoric; and on the present occasion,
he touched more than once the higher notes of feeling, and then
again ran off in a wild voluntary of fanciful mirth. He was
supported and excited by kindred spirits, who felt the same
impulse of mood and time; and even those of more cold and
calculating habits were hurried along by the torrent. Many ladies
declined the dance, which still went forward, and under various
pretences joined the party to which the 'handsome young
Englishman' seemed to have attached himself. He was presented to
several of the first rank, and his manners, which for the present
were altogether free from the bashful restraint by which, in a
moment of less excitation, they were usually clouded, gave
universal delight.

Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female present who regarded
him with a degree of coldness and reserve; yet even she could not
suppress a sort of wonder at talents which, in the course of their
acquaintance, she had never seen displayed with equal brilliancy
and impressive effect. I do not know whether she might not feel a
momentary regret at having taken so decisive a resolution upon the
addresses of a lover who seemed fitted so well to fill a high
place in the highest stations of society. Certainly she had
hitherto accounted among the incurable deficiencies of Edward's
disposition the mauvaise honte which, as she had been educated in
the first foreign circles, and was little acquainted with the
shyness of English manners, was in her opinion too nearly related
to timidity and imbecility of disposition. But if a passing wish
occurred that Waverley could have rendered himself uniformly thus
amiable and attractive, its influence was momentary; for
circumstances had arisen since they met which rendered in her eyes
the resolution she had formed respecting him final and
irrevocable.

With opposite feelings Rose Bradwardine bent her whole soul to
listen. She felt a secret triumph at the public tribute paid to
one whose merit she had learned to prize too early and too fondly.
Without a thought of jealousy, without a feeling of fear, pain, or
doubt, and undisturbed by a single selfish consideration, she
resigned herself to the pleasure of observing the general murmur
of applause. When Waverley spoke, her ear was exclusively filled
with his voice, when others answered, her eye took its turn of
observation, and seemed to watch his reply. Perhaps the delight
which she experienced in the course of that evening, though
transient, and followed by much sorrow, was in its nature the most
pure and disinterested which the human mind is capable of
enjoying.

'Baron,' said the Chevalier, 'I would not trust my mistress in the
company of your young friend. He is really, though perhaps
somewhat romantic, one of the most fascinating young men whom I
have ever seen.'

'And by my honour, sir,' replied the Baron,'the lad can sometimes
be as dowff as a sexagenary like myself. If your Royal Highness
had seen him dreaming and dozing about the banks of Tully-Veolan
like an hypochondriac person, or, as Burton's "Anatomia" hath it,
a phrenesiac or lethargic patient, you would wonder where he hath
sae suddenly acquired all this fine sprack festivity and
jocularity.'

'Truly,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, 'I think it can only be the
inspiration of the tartans; for, though Waverley be always a young
fellow of sense and honour, I have hitherto often found him a very
absent and inattentive companion.'

'We are the more obliged to him,' said the Prince, 'for having
reserved for this evening qualities which even such intimate
friends had not discovered. But come, gentlemen, the night
advances, and the business of tomorrow must be early thought upon.
Each take charge of his fair partner, and honour a small
refreshment with your company.'

He led the way to another suite of apartments, and assumed the
seat and canopy at the head of a long range of tables with an air
of dignity, mingled with courtesy, which well became his high
birth and lofty pretensions. An hour had hardly flown away when
the musicians played the signal for parting so well known in
Scotland. [Footnote: Which is, or was wont to be, the old air of
'Good-night and joy be wi' you a'.]

'Good-night, then,' said the Chevalier, rising; 'goodnight, and
joy be with you! Good-night, fair ladies, who have so highly
honoured a proscribed and banished Prince! Good-night, my brave
friends; may the happiness we have this evening experienced be an
omen of our return to these our paternal halls, speedily and in
triumph, and of many and many future meetings of mirth and
pleasure in the palace of Holyrood!'

When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mentioned this adieu of
the Chevalier, he never failed to repeat, in a melancholy tone,

    'Audiit, et voti Phoebus succedere partem
    Mente dedit; partem volucres dispersit in auras;

which,' as he added, 'is weel rendered into English metre by my
friend Bangour:--

    Ae half the prayer wi' Phoebus grace did find,
    The t'other half he whistled down the wind.'





CHAPTER XLIV

THE MARCH


The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of Waverley had
resigned him to late but sound repose. He was dreaming of
Glennaquoich, and had transferred to the halls of lan nan Chaistel
the festal train which so lately graced those of Holyrood. The
pibroch too was distinctly heard; and this at least was no
delusion, for the 'proud step of the chief piper' of the 'chlain
MacIvor' was perambulating the court before the door of his
Chieftain's quarters, and as Mrs. Flockhart, apparently no friend
to his minstrelsy, was pleased to observe, 'garring the very
stane-and-lime wa's dingle wi' his screeching.' Of course it soon
became too powerful for Waverley's dream, with which it had at
first rather harmonised.

The sound of Callum's brogues in his apartment (for Mac-Ivor had
again assigned Waverley to his care) was the next note of parting.
'Winna yer honour bang up? Vich lan Vohr and ta Prince are awa to
the lang green glen ahint the clachan, tat they ca' the King's
Park, [Footnote: The main body of the Highland army encamped, or
rather bivouacked, in that part of the King's Park which lies
towards the village of Duddingston.] and mony ane's on his ain
shanks the day that will be carried on ither folk's ere night.'

Waverley sprung up, and, with Callum's assistance and
instructions, adjusted his tartans in proper costume. Callum told
him also,' tat his leather dorlach wi' the lock on her was come
frae Doune, and she was awa again in the wain wi' Vich Ian Vohr's
walise.'

By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his portmanteau
was intended. He thought upon the mysterious packet of the maid of
the cavern, which seemed always to escape him when within his very
grasp. But this was no time for indulgence of curiosity; and
having declined Mrs. Flockhart's compliment of a MORNING, i.e. a
matutinal dram, being probably the only man in the Chevalier's
army by whom such a courtesy would have been rejected, he made his
adieus and departed with Callum.

'Callum,' said he, as they proceeded down a dirty close to gain
the southern skirts of the Canongate, 'what shall I do for a
horse?'

'Ta deil ane ye maun think o',' said Callum. 'Vich Ian Vohr's
marching on foot at the head o' his kin (not to say ta Prince, wha
does the like), wi' his target on his shoulder; and ye maun e'en
be neighbour-like.'

'And so I will, Callum, give me my target; so, there we are fixed.
How does it look?'

'Like the bra' Highlander tat's painted on the board afore the
mickle change-house they ca' Luckie Middlemass's,' answered
Callum; meaning, I must observe, a high compliment, for in his
opinion Luckie Middlemass's sign was an exquisite specimen of art.
Waverley, however, not feeling the full force of this polite
simile, asked him no further questions.

Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty suburbs of the
metropolis, and emerging into the open air, Waverley felt a
renewal of both health and spirits, and turned his recollection
with firmness upon the events of the preceding evening, and with
hope and resolution towards those of the approaching day.

When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence called St.
Leonard's Hill, the King's Park, or the hollow between the
mountain of Arthur's Seat and the rising grounds on which the
southern part of Edinburgh is now built, lay beneath him, and
displayed a singular and animating prospect. It was occupied by
the army of the Highlanders, now in the act of preparing for their
march. Waverley had already seen something of the kind at the
hunting-match which he attended with Fergus MacIvor; but this was
on a scale of much greater magnitude, and incomparably deeper
interest. The rocks, which formed the background of the scene, and
the very sky itself, rang with the clang of the bagpipers,
summoning forth, each with his appropriate pibroch, his chieftain
and clan. The mountaineers, rousing themselves from their couch
under the canopy of heaven with the hum and bustle of a confused
and irregular multitude, like bees alarmed and arming in their
hives, seemed to possess all the pliability of movement fitted to
execute military manoeuvres. Their motions appeared spontaneous
and confused, but the result was order and regularity; so that a
general must have praised the conclusion, though a martinet might
have ridiculed the method by which it was attained.

The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty arrangements
of the various clans under their respective banners, for the
purpose of getting into the order of march, was in itself a gay
and lively spectacle. They had no tents to strike having
generally, and by choice, slept upon the open field, although the
autumn was now waning and the nights began to be frosty. For a
little space, while they were getting into order, there was
exhibited a changing, fluctuating, and confused appearance of
waving tartans and floating plumes, and of banners displaying the
proud gathering word of Clanronald, Ganion Coheriga (Gainsay who
dares), Loch-Sloy, the watchword of the MacFarlanes; Forth,
fortune, and fill the fetters, the motto of the Marquis of
Tullibardine; Bydand, that of Lord Lewis Gordon, and the
appropriate signal words and emblems of many other chieftains and
clans.

At length the mixed and wavering multitude arranged themselves
into a narrow and dusky column of great length, stretching through
the whole extent of the valley. In the front of the column the
standard of the Chevalier was displayed, bearing a red cross upon
a white ground, with the motto Tandem Triumphans. The few cavalry,
being chiefly Lowland gentry, with their domestic servants and
retainers, formed the advanced guard of the army; and their
standards, of which they had rather too many in respect of their
numbers, were seen waving upon the extreme verge of the horizon.
Many horsemen of this body, among whom Waverley accidentally
remarked Balmawhapple and his lieutenant, Jinker (which last,
however, had been reduced, with several others, by the advice of
the Baron of Bradwardine, to the situation of what he called
reformed officers, or reformadoes), added to the liveliness,
though by no means to the regularity, of the scene, by galloping
their horses as fast forward as the press would permit, to join
their proper station in the van. The fascinations of the Circes of
the High Street, and the potations of strength with which they had
been drenched over night, had probably detained these heroes
within the walls of Edinburgh somewhat later than was consistent
with their morning duty. Of such loiterers, the prudent took the
longer and circuitous, but more open, route to attain their place
in the march, by keeping at some distance from the infantry, and
making their way through the inclosures to the right, at the
expense of leaping over or pulling down the drystone fences. The
irregular appearance and vanishing of these small parties of
horsemen, as well as the confusion occasioned by those who
endeavoured, though generally without effect, to press to the
front through the crowd of Highlanders, maugre their curses,
oaths, and opposition, added to the picturesque wildness what it
took from the military regularity of the scene.

While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, rendered yet
more impressive by the occasional discharge of cannon-shot from
the Castle at the Highland guards as they were withdrawn from its
vicinity to join their main body, Callum, with his usual freedom
of interference, reminded him that Vich lan Vohr's folk were
nearly at the head of the column of march which was still distant,
and that 'they would gang very fast after the cannon fired.' Thus
admonished, Waverley walked briskly forward, yet often casting a
glance upon the darksome clouds of warriors who were collected
before and beneath him. A nearer view, indeed, rather diminished
the effect impressed on the mind by the more distant appearance of
the army. The leading men of each clan were well armed with broad-
sword, target, and fusee, to which all added the dirk, and most
the steel pistol. But these consisted of gentlemen, that is,
relations of the chief, however distant, and who had an immediate
title to his countenance and protection. Finer and hardier men
could not have been selected out of any army in Christendom; while
the free and independent habits which each possessed, and which
each was yet so well taught to subject to the command of his
chief, and the peculiar mode of discipline adopted in Highland
warfare, rendered them equally formidable by their individual
courage and high spirit, and from their rational conviction of the
necessity of acting in unison, and of giving their national mode
of attack the fullest opportunity of success.

But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individuals of an
inferior description, the common peasantry of the Highland
country, who, although they did not allow themselves to be so
called, and claimed often, with apparent truth, to be of more
ancient descent than the masters whom they served, bore,
nevertheless, the livery of extreme penury, being indifferently
accoutred, and worse armed, half naked, stinted in growth, and
miserable in aspect. Each important clan had some of those Helots
attached to them: thus, the MacCouls, though tracing their descent
from Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a sort of
Gibeonites, or hereditary servants to the Stewarts of Appin; the
Macbeths, descended from the unhappy monarch of that name, were
subjects to the Morays and clan Donnochy, or Robertsons of Athole;
and many other examples might be given, were it not for the risk
of hurting any pride of clanship which may yet be left, and
thereby drawing a Highland tempest into the shop of my publisher.
Now these same Helots, though forced into the field by the
arbitrary authority of the chieftains under whom they hewed wood
and drew water, were in general very sparingly fed, ill dressed,
and worse armed. The latter circumstance was indeed owing chiefly
to the general disarming act, which had been carried into effect
ostensibly through the whole Highlands, although most of the
chieftains contrived to elude its influence by retaining the
weapons of their own immediate clansmen, and delivering up those
of less value, which they collected from these inferior
satellites. It followed, as a matter of course, that, as we have
already hinted, many of these poor fellows were brought to the
field in a very wretched condition.

From this it happened that, in bodies, the van of which were
admirably well armed in their own fashion, the rear resembled
actual banditti. Here was a pole-axe, there a sword without a
scabbard; here a gun without a lock, there a scythe set straight
upon a pole; and some had only their dirks, and bludgeons or
stakes pulled out of hedges. The grim, uncombed, and wild
appearance of these men, most of whom gazed with all the
admiration of ignorance upon the most ordinary productions of
domestic art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also
created terror. So little was the condition of the Highlands known
at that late period that the character and appearance of their
population, while thus sallying forth as military adventurers,
conveyed to the South-Country Lowlanders as much surprise as if an
invasion of African Negroes or Esquimaux Indians had issued forth
from the northern mountains of their own native country. It cannot
therefore be wondered if Waverley, who had hitherto judged of the
Highlanders generally from the samples which the policy of Fergus
had from time to time exhibited, should have felt damped and
astonished at the daring attempt of a body not then exceeding four
thousand men, and of whom not above half the number, at the
utmost, were armed, to change the fate and alter the dynasty of
the British kingdoms.

As he moved along the column, which still remained stationary, an
iron gun, the only piece of artillery possessed by the army which
meditated so important a revolution, was fired as the signal of
march. The Chevalier had expressed a wish to leave this useless
piece of ordnance behind him; but, to his surprise, the Highland
chiefs interposed to solicit that it might accompany their march,
pleading the prejudices of their followers, who, little accustomed
to artillery, attached a degree of absurd importance to this
field-piece, and expected it would contribute essentially to a
victory which they could only owe to their own muskets and
broadswords. Two or three French artillerymen were therefore
appointed to the management of this military engine, which was
drawn along by a string of Highland ponies, and was, after all,
only used for the purpose of firing signals. [Footnote: See Note
6.]

No sooner was its voice heard upon the present occasion than the
whole line was in motion. A wild cry of joy from the advancing
batallions rent the air, and was then lost in the shrill clangour
of the bagpipes, as the sound of these, in their turn, was
partially drowned by the heavy tread of so many men put at once
into motion. The banners glittered and shook as they moved
forward, and the horse hastened to occupy their station as the
advanced guard, and to push on reconnoitring parties to ascertain
and report the motions of the enemy. They vanished from Waverley's
eye as they wheeled round the base of Arthur's Seat, under the
remarkable ridge of basaltic rocks which fronts the little lake of
Duddingston.

The infantry followed in the same direction, regulating their pace
by another body which occupied a road more to the southward. It
cost Edward some exertion of activity to attain the place which
Fergus's followers occupied in the line of march.





CHAPTER XLV

AN INCIDENT GIVES RISE TO UNAVAILING REFLECTIONS


When Waverley reached that part of the column which was filled by
the clan of Mac-Ivor, they halted, formed, and received him with a
triumphant flourish upon the bagpipes and a loud shout of the men,
most of whom knew him personally, and were delighted to see him in
the dress of their country and of their sept. 'You shout,' said a
Highlander of a neighbouring clan to Evan Dhu, 'as if the
Chieftain were just come to your head.'

'_Mar e Bran is e a brathair_, If it be not Bran, it is Bran's
brother,' was the proverbial reply of Maccombich. [Footnote: Bran,
the well-known dog of Fingal. is often the theme of Highland
proverb as well as song.]

'O, then, it is the handsome Sassenach duinhe-wassel that is to be
married to Lady Flora?'

'That may be, or it may not be; and it is neither your matter nor
mine, Gregor.'

Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford him a warm
and hearty welcome; but he thought it necessary to apologize for
the diminished numbers of his battalion (which did not exceed
three hundred men) by observing he had sent a good many out upon
parties.

The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald Bean
Lean had deprived him of at least thirty hardy fellows, whose
services he had fully reckoned upon, and that many of his
occasional adherents had been recalled by their several chiefs to
the standards to which they most properly owed their allegiance.
The rival chief of the great northern branch, also, of his own
clan had mustered his people, although he had not yet declared
either for the government or for the Chevalier, and by his
intrigues had in some degree diminished the force with which
Fergus took the field. To make amends for these disappointments,
it was universally admitted that the followers of Vich Ian Vohr,
in point of appearance, equipment, arms, and dexterity in using
them, equalled the most choice troops which followed the standard
of Charles Edward. Old Ballenkeiroch acted as his major; and, with
the other officers who had known Waverley when at Glennaquoich,
gave our hero a cordial reception, as the sharer of their future
dangers and expected honours.

The route pursued by the Highland army, after leaving the village
of Duddingston, was for some time the common post-road betwixt
Edinburgh and Haddington, until they crossed the Esk at
Musselburgh, when, instead of keeping the low grounds towards the
sea, they turned more inland, and occupied the brow of the
eminence called Carberry Hill, a place already distinguished in
Scottish history as the spot where the lovely Mary surrendered
herself to her insurgent subjects. This direction was chosen
because the Chevalier had received notice that the army of the
government, arriving by sea from Aberdeen, had landed at Dunbar,
and quartered the night before to the west of Haddington, with the
intention of falling down towards the sea-side, and approaching
Edinburgh by the lower coast-road. By keeping the height, which
overhung that road in many places, it was hoped the Highlanders
might find an opportunity of attacking them to advantage. The army
therefore halted upon the ridge of Carberry Hill, both to refresh
the soldiers and as a central situation from which their march
could be directed to any point that the motions of the enemy might
render most advisable. While they remained in this position a
messenger arrived in haste to desire Mac-Ivor to come to the
Prince, adding that their advanced post had had a skirmish with
some of the enemy's cavalry, and that the Baron of Bradwardine had
sent in a few prisoners.

Waverley walked forward out of the line to satisfy his curiosity,
and soon observed five or six of the troopers who, covered with
dust, had galloped in to announce that the enemy were in full
march westward along the coast. Passing still a little farther on,
he was struck with a groan which issued from a hovel. He
approached the spot, and heard a voice, in the provincial English
of his native county, which endeavoured, though frequently
interrupted by pain, to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The voice of
distress always found a ready answer in our hero's bosom. He
entered the hovel, which seemed to be intended for what is called,
in the pastoral counties of Scotland, a smearing-house; and in its
obscurity Edward could only at first discern a sort of red bundle;
for those who had stripped the wounded man of his arms and part of
his clothes had left him the dragoon-cloak in which he was
enveloped.

'For the love of God,' said the wounded man, as he heard
Waverley's step, 'give me a single drop of water!'

'You shall have it,' answered Waverley, at the same time raising
him in his arms, bearing him to the door of the hut, and giving
him some drink from his flask.

'I should know that voice,' said the man; but looking on
Waverley's dress with a bewildered look--'no, this is not the
young squire!'

This was the common phrase by which Edward was distinguished on
the estate of Waverley-Honour, and the sound now thrilled to his
heart with the thousand recollections which the well-known accents
of his native country had already contributed to awaken.
'Houghton!' he said, gazing on the ghastly features which death
was fast disfiguring, 'can this be you?'

'I never thought to hear an English voice again,' said the wounded
man;'they left me to live or die here as I could, when they found
I would say nothing about the strength of the regiment. But, O
squire! how could you stay from us so long, and let us be tempted
by that fiend of the pit, Ruffin? we should have followed you
through flood and fire, to be sure.'

'Ruffin! I assure you, Houghton, you have been vilely imposed
upon.'

'I often thought so,' said Houghton,'though they showed us your
very seal; and so Tims was shot and I was reduced to the ranks.'

'Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,' said Edward; 'I will
get you a surgeon presently.'

He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from
headquarters, where he had attended a council of war, and hastened
to meet him. 'Brave news!' shouted the Chief; 'we shall be at it in
less than two hours. The Prince has put himself at the head of the
advance, and, as he drew his sword, called out, "My friends, I
have thrown away the scabbard." Come, Waverley, we move
instantly.'

'A moment--a moment; this poor prisoner is dying; where shall I
find a surgeon?'

'Why, where should you? We have none, you know, but two or three
French fellows, who, I believe, are little better than _garçons
apothecaires_.'

'But the man will bleed to death.'

'Poor fellow!' said Fergus, in a momentary fit of compassion; then
instantly added, 'But it will be a thousand men's fate before
night; so come along.'

'I cannot; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my uncle's.'

'O, if he's a follower of yours he must be looked to; I'll send
Callum to you; but _diaoul! ceade millia mottigheart_,' continued
the impatient Chieftain, 'what made an old soldier like
Bradwardine send dying men here to cumber us?'

Callum came with his usual alertness; and, indeed, Waverley rather
gained than lost in the opinion of the Highlanders by his anxiety
about the wounded man. They would not have understood the general
philanthropy which rendered it almost impossible for Waverley to
have passed any person in such distress; but, as apprehending that
the sufferer was one of his _following_ they unanimously allowed
that Waverley's conduct was that of a kind and considerate
chieftain, who merited the attachment of his people. In about a
quarter of an hour poor Humphrey breathed his last, praying his
young master, when he returned to Waverley-Honour, to be kind to
old Job Houghton and his dame, and conjuring him not to fight with
these wild petticoat-men against old England.

When his last breath was drawn, Waverley, who had beheld with
sincere sorrow, and no slight tinge of remorse, the final agonies
of mortality, now witnessed for the first time, commanded Callum
to remove the body into the hut. This the young Highlander
performed, not without examining the pockets of the defunct,
which, however, he remarked had been pretty well spunged. He took
the cloak, however, and proceeding with the provident caution of a
spaniel hiding a bone, concealed it among some furze and carefully
marked the spot, observing that, if he chanced to return that way,
it would be an excellent rokelay for his auld mother Elspat.

It was by a considerable exertion that they regained their place
in the marching column, which was now moving rapidly forward to
occupy the high grounds above the village of Tranent, between
which and the sea lay the purposed march of the opposite army.

This melancholy interview with his late sergeant forced many
unavailing and painful reflections upon Waverley's mind. It was
clear from the confession of the man that Colonel Gardiner's
proceedings had been strictly warranted, and even rendered
indispensable, by the steps taken in Edward's name to induce the
soldiers of his troop to mutiny. The circumstance of the seal he
now, for the first time, recollected, and that he had lost it in
the cavern of the robber, Bean Lean. That the artful villain had
secured it, and used it as the means of carrying on an intrigue in
the regiment for his own purposes, was sufficiently evident; and
Edward had now little doubt that in the packet placed in his
portmanteau by his daughter he should find farther light upon his
proceedings. In the meanwhile the repeated expostulation of
Houghton--'Ah, squire, why did you leave us?' rung like a knell in
his ears.

'Yes,' he said, 'I have indeed acted towards you with thoughtless
cruelty. I brought you from your paternal fields, and the
protection of a generous and kind landlord, and when I had
subjected you to all the rigour of military discipline, I shunned
to bear my own share of the burden, and wandered from the duties I
had undertaken, leaving alike those whom it was my business to
protect, and my own reputation, to suffer under the artifices of
villainy. O, indolence and indecision of mind, if not in
yourselves vices--to how much exquisite misery and mischief do you
frequently prepare the way!'





CHAPTER XLVI

THE EVE OF BATTLE


Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the sun was
declining when they arrived upon the brow of those high grounds
which command an open and extensive plain stretching northward to
the sea, on which are situated, but at a considerable distance
from each other, the small villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and
the larger one of Preston. One of the low coastroads to Edinburgh
passed through this plain, issuing upon it from the enclosures of
Seaton House, and at the town or village of Preston again entering
the denies of an enclosed country. By this way the English general
had chosen to approach the metropolis, both as most commodious for
his cavalry, and being probably of opinion that by doing so he
would meet in front with the Highlanders advancing from Edinburgh
in the opposite direction. In this he was mistaken; for the sound
judgment of the Chevalier, or of those to whose advice he
listened, left the direct passage free, but occupied the strong
ground by which it was overlooked and commanded.

When the Highlanders reached the heights above the plain
described, they were immediately formed in array of battle along
the brow of the hill. Almost at the same instant the van of the
English appeared issuing from among the trees and enclosures of
Seaton, with the purpose of occupying the level plain between the
high ground and the sea; the space which divided the armies being
only about half a mile in breadth. Waverley could plainly see the
squadrons of dragoons issue, one after another, from the defiles,
with their videttes in front, and form upon the plain, with their
front opposed to that of the Prince's army. They were followed by
a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the flank of the
dragoons, were also brought into line and pointed against the
heights. The march was continued by three or four regiments of
infantry marching in open column, their fixed bayonets showing
like successive hedges of steel, and their arms glancing like
lightning, as, at a signal given, they also at once wheeled up,
and were placed in direct opposition to the Highlanders. A second
train of artillery, with another regiment of horse, closed the
long march, and formed on the left flank of the infantry, the
whole line facing southward.

While the English army went through these evolutions, the
Highlanders showed equal promptitude and zeal for battle. As fast
as the clans came upon the ridge which fronted their enemy, they
were formed into line, so that both armies got into complete order
of battle at the same moment. When this was accomplished, the
Highlanders set up a tremendous yell, which was re-echoed by the
heights behind them. The regulars, who were in high spirits,
returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired one or two of their
cannon upon an advanced post of the Highlanders. The latter
displayed great earnestness to proceed instantly to the attack,
Evan Dhu urging to Fergus, by way of argument, that 'the SIDIER
ROY was tottering like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a'
the vantage of the onset, for even a haggis (God bless her!) could
charge down hill.'

But the ground through which the mountaineers must have descended,
although not of great extent, was impracticable in its
character, being not only marshy but intersected with walls of dry
stone, and traversed in its whole length by a very broad and deep
ditch, circumstances which must have given the musketry of the
regulars dreadful advantages before the mountaineers could have
used their swords, on which they were taught to rely. The
authority of the commanders was therefore interposed to curb the
impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few marksmen were sent
down the descent to skirmish with the enemy's advanced posts and
to reconnoitre the ground.

Here, then, was a military spectacle of no ordinary interest or
usual occurrence. The two armies, so different in aspect and
discipline, yet each admirably trained in its own peculiar mode of
war, upon whose conflict the temporary fate at least of Scotland
appeared to depend, now faced each other like two gladiators in
the arena, each meditating upon the mode of attacking their enemy.
The leading officers and the general's staff of each army could be
distinguished in front of their lines, busied with spy-glasses to
watch each other's motions, and occupied in despatching the orders
and receiving the intelligence conveyed by the aides-de-camp and
orderly men, who gave life to the scene by galloping along in
different directions, as if the fate of the day depended upon
the speed of their horses. The space between the armies was at
times occupied by the partial and irregular contest of individual
sharp-shooters, and a hat or bonnet was occasionally seen to
fall, as a wounded man was borne off by his comrades. These,
however, were but trifling skirmishes, for it suited the views
of neither party to advance in that direction. From the
neighbouring hamlets the peasantry cautiously showed themselves,
as if watching the issue of the expected engagement; and at no
great distance in the bay were two square-rigged vessels, bearing
the English flag, whose tops and yards were crowded with less
timid spectators.

When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, Fergus, with
another chieftain, received orders to detach their clans towards
the village of Preston, in order to threaten the right flank of
Cope's army and compel him to a change of position. To enable him
to execute these orders, the Chief of Glennaquoich occupied the
church-yard of Tranent, a commanding situation, and a convenient
place, as Evan Dhu remarked, 'for any gentleman who might have the
misfortune to be killed, and chanced to be curious about Christian
burial.' To check or dislodge this party, the English general
detached two guns, escorted by a strong party of cavalry. They
approached so near that Waverley could plainly recognise the
standard of the troop he had formerly commanded, and hear the
trumpets and kettle-drums sound the signal of advance which he had
so often obeyed. He could hear, too, the well-known word given in
the English dialect by the equally well-distinguished voice of the
commanding officer, for whom he had once felt so much respect. It
was at that instant, that, looking around him, he saw the wild
dress and appearance of his Highland associates, heard their
whispers in an uncouth and unknown language, looked upon his own
dress, so unlike that which he had worn from his infancy, and
wished to awake from what seemed at the moment a dream, strange,
horrible, and unnatural. 'Good God!' he muttered, 'am I then a
traitor to my country, a renegade to my standard, and a foe, as
that poor dying wretch expressed himself, to my native England!'

Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the tall military
form of his late commander came full in view, for the purpose of
reconnoitring. 'I can hit him now,' said Callum, cautiously
raising his fusee over the wall under which he lay couched, at
scarce sixty yards' distance.

Edward felt as if he was about to see a parricide committed in his
presence; for the venerable grey hair and striking countenance of
the veteran recalled the almost paternal respect with which his
officers universally regarded him. But ere he could say 'Hold!' an
aged Highlander who lay beside Callum Beg stopped his arm. 'Spare
your shot,' said the seer, 'his hour is not yet come. But let him
beware of to-morrow; I see his winding-sheet high upon his
breast.'

Callum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to
superstition. He turned pale at the words of the _taishatr_, and
recovered his piece. Colonel Gardiner, unconscious of the danger
he had escaped, turned his horse round and rode slowly back to the
front of his regiment.

By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, with one
flank inclined towards the sea and the other resting upon the
village of Preston; and, as similar difficulties occurred in
attacking their new position, Fergus and the rest of the
detachment were recalled to their former post. This alteration
created the necessity of a corresponding change in General Cope's
army, which was again brought into a line parallel with that of
the Highlanders. In these manoeuvres on both sides the daylight
was nearly consumed, and both armies prepared to rest upon their
arms for the night in the lines which they respectively occupied.

'There will be nothing done to-night,' said Fergus to his friend
Waverley; 'ere we wrap ourselves in our plaids, let us go see what
the Baron is doing in the rear of the line.'

When they approached his post, they found the good old careful
officer, after having sent out his night patrols and posted his
sentinels, engaged in reading the Evening Service of the Episcopal
Church to the remainder of his troop. His voice was loud and
sonorous, and though his spectacles upon his nose, and the
appearance of Saunders Saunderson, in military array, performing
the functions of clerk, had something ludicrous, yet the
circumstances of danger in which they stood, the military costume
of the audience, and the appearance of their horses saddled and
picqueted behind them, gave an impressive and solemn effect to the
office of devotion.

'I have confessed to-day, ere you were awake,' whispered Fergus to
Waverley; 'yet I am not so strict a Catholic as to refuse to join
in this good man's prayers.'

Edward assented, and they remained till the Baron had concluded
the service.

As he shut the book, 'Now, lads,' said he, 'have at them in the
morning with heavy hands and light consciences.' He then kindly
greeted Mac-Ivor and Waverley, who requested to know his opinion
of their situation. Why, you know Tacitus saith, "In rebus
bellicis maxime dominalur Fortuna," which is equiponderate with
our vernacular adage, "Luck can maist in the mellee." But credit
me, gentlemen, yon man is not a deacon o' his craft. He damps the
spirits of the poor lads he commands by keeping them on the
defensive, whilk of itself implies inferiority or fear. Now will
they lie on their arms yonder as anxious and as ill at ease as a
toad under a harrow, while our men will be quite fresh and blithe
for action in the morning. Well, good-night. One thing troubles
me, but if to-morrow goes well off, I will consult you about it,
Glennaquoich.'

'I could almost apply to Mr. Bradwardine the character which Henry
gives of Fluellen,' said Waverley, as his friend and he walked
towards their bivouac:

    'Though it appears a little out of fashion,
    There is much care and valour in this "Scotchman."'

'He has seen much service,' answered Fergus, 'and one is sometimes
astonished to find how much nonsense and reason are mingled in his
composition. I wonder what can be troubling his mind; probably
something about Rose. Hark! the English are setting their watch.'

The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the fifes swelled
up the hill--died away--resumed its thunder--and was at length
hushed. The trumpets and kettle-drums of the cavalry were next
heard to perform the beautiful and wild point of war appropriated
as a signal for that piece of nocturnal duty, and then finally
sunk upon the wind with a shrill and mournful cadence.

The friends, who had now reached their post, stood and looked
round them ere they lay down to rest. The western sky twinkled
with stars, but a frost-mist, rising from the ocean, covered the
eastern horizon, and rolled in white wreaths along the plain where
the adverse army lay couched upon their arms. Their advanced posts
were pushed as far as the side of the great ditch at the bottom of
the descent, and had kindled large fires at different intervals,
gleaming with obscure and hazy lustre through the heavy fog which
encircled them with a doubtful halo.

The Highlanders, 'thick as leaves in Vallombrosa,' lay stretched
upon the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting their sentinels) in
the most profound repose. 'How many of these brave fellows will
sleep more soundly before to-morrow night, Fergus!' said Waverley,
with an involuntary sigh.

'You must notthink of that,' answered Fergus, whose ideas were
entirely military. 'You must only think of your sword, and by whom
it was given. All other reflections are now TOO LATE.'

With the opiate contained in this undeniable remark Edward
endeavoured to lull the tumult of his conflicting feelings. The
Chieftain and he, combining their plaids, made a comfortable and
warm couch. Callum, sitting down at their head (for it was his
duty to watch upon the immediate person of the Chief), began a
long mournful song in Gaelic, to a low and uniform tune, which,
like the sound of the wind at a distance, soon lulled them to
sleep.





CHAPTER XLVII

THE CONFLICT


When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a few hours,
they were awakened and summoned to attend the Prince. The distant
village clock was heard to toll three as they hastened to the
place where he lay. He was already surrounded by his principal
officers and the chiefs of clans. A bundle of pease-straw, which
had been lately his couch, now served for his seat. Just as Fergus
reached the circle, the consultation had broken up. 'Courage, my
brave friends!' said the Chevalier, 'and each one put himself
instantly at the head of his command; a faithful friend [Footnote:
See Note 7.] has offered to guide us by a practicable, though
narrow and circuitous, route, which, sweeping to our right,
traverses the broken ground and morass, and enables us to gain the
firm and open plain upon which the enemy are lying. This
difficulty surmounted, Heaven and your good swords must do the
rest.'

The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader hastened to get
his men into order with as little noise as possible. The army,
moving by its right from off the ground on which they had rested,
soon entered the path through the morass, conducting their march
with astonishing silence and great rapidity. The mist had not
risen to the higher grounds, so that for some time they had the
advantage of star-light. But this was lost as the stars faded
before approaching day, and the head of the marching column,
continuing its descent, plunged as it were into the heavy ocean of
fog, which rolled its white waves over the whole plain, and over
the sea by which it was bounded. Some difficulties were now to be
encountered, inseparable from darkness, a narrow, broken, and
marshy path, and the necessity of preserving union in the march.
These, however, were less inconvenient to Highlanders, from their
habits of life, than they would have been to any other troops, and
they continued a steady and swift movement.

As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, following the
track of those who preceded them, the challenge of a patrol was
heard through the mist, though they could not see the dragoon by
whom it was made--'Who goes there?'

'Hush!' cried Fergus, 'hush! let none answer, as he values his
life; press forward'; and they continued their march with silence
and rapidity.

The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the report was
instantly followed by the clang of his horse's feet as he galloped
off. 'Hylax in limine latrat,' said the Baron of Bradwardine, who
heard the shot;'that loon will give the alarm.'

The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, which had lately
borne a large crop of corn. But the harvest was gathered in, and
the expanse was unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption of any
kind. The rest of the army were following fast, when they heard
the drums of the enemy beat the general. Surprise, however, had
made no part of their plan, so they were not disconcerted by this
intimation that the foe was upon his guard and prepared to receive
them. It only hastened their dispositions for the combat, which
were very simple.

The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the wide
plain, or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in two
lines, extending from the morass towards the sea. The first was
destined to charge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve. The
few horse, whom the Prince headed in person, remained between the
two lines. The adventurer had intimated a resolution to charge in
person at the head of his first line; but his purpose was
deprecated by all around him, and he was with difficulty induced
to abandon it.

Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for instant
combat. The clans of which it was composed formed each a sort of
separate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or
fifteen files, according to the strength of the following. The
best-armed and best-born, for the words were synonymous, were
placed in front of each of these irregular subdivisions. The
others in the rear shouldered forward the front, and by their
pressure added both physical impulse and additional ardour and
confidence to those who were first to encounter the danger.

'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his
own; 'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the
sea.'

The clansmen on every side stript their plaids, prepared their
arms, and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during
which the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to
heaven and uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over
their brows and began to move forward, at first slowly. Waverley
felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have burst from
his bosom. It was not fear, it was not ardour: it was a compound
of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse that with its first
emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and maddened his mind.
The sounds around him combined to exalt his enthusiasm; the pipes
played, and the clans rushed forward, each in its own dark column.
As they advanced they mended their pace, and the muttering sounds
of the men to each other began to swell into a wild cry.

At this moment the sun, which was now risen above the horizon,
dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed
the two armies in the act of closing. The line of the regulars was
formed directly fronting the attack of the Highlanders; it
glittered with the appointments of a complete army, and was
flanked by cavalry and artillery. But the sight impressed no
terror on the assailants.

'Forward, sons of Ivor,' cried their Chief, 'or the Camerons will
draw the first blood!' They rushed on with a tremendous yell.

The rest is well known. The horse, who were commanded to charge
the advancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular fire
from their fusees as they ran on and, seized with a disgraceful
panic, wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from the field.
The artillery men, deserted by the cavalry, fled after discharging
their pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns when
fired and drew their broadswords, rushed with headlong fury
against the infantry.

It was at this moment of confusion and terror that Waverley
remarked an English officer, apparently of high rank, standing,
alone and unsupported, by a fieldpiece, which, after the flight of
the men by whom it was wrought, he had himself levelled and
discharged against the clan of Mac-Ivor, the nearest group of
Highlanders within his aim. Struck with his tall, martial figure,
and eager to save him from inevitable destruction, Waverley
outstripped for an instant even the speediest of the warriors,
and, reaching the spot first, called to him to surrender. The
officer replied by a thrust with his sword, which Waverley
received in his target, and in turning it aside the Englishman's
weapon broke. At the same time the battle-axe of Dugald Mahony was
in the act of descending upon the officer's head. Waverley
intercepted and prevented the blow, and the officer, perceiving
further resistance unavailing, and struck with Edward's generous
anxiety for his safety, resigned the fragment of his sword, and
was committed by Waverley to Dugald, with strict charge to use him
well, and not to pillage his person, promising him, at the same
time, full indemnification for the spoil.

On Edward's right the battle for a few minutes raged fierce and
thick. The English infantry, trained in the wars in Flanders,
stood their ground with great courage. But their extended files
were pierced and broken in many places by the close masses of the
clans; and in the personal struggle which ensued the nature of the
Highlanders' weapons, and their extraordinary fierceness and
activity, gave them a decided superiority over those who had been
accustomed to trust much to their array and discipline, and felt
that the one was broken and the other useless. Waverley, as he
cast his eyes towards this scene of smoke and slaughter, observed
Colonel Gardiner, deserted by his own soldiers in spite of all his
attempts to rally them, yet spurring his horse through the field
to take the command of a small body of infantry, who, with their
backs arranged against the wall of his own park (for his house was
close by the field of battle), continued a desperate and
unavailing resistance. Waverley could perceive that he had already
received many wounds, his clothes and saddle being marked with
blood. To save this good and brave man became the instant object
of his most anxious exertions. But he could only witness his fall.
Ere Edward could make his way among the Highlanders, who, furious
and eager for spoil, now thronged upon each other, he saw his
former commander brought from his horse by the blow of a scythe,
and beheld him receive, while on the ground, more wounds than
would have let out twenty lives. When Waverley came up, however,
perception had not entirely fled. The dying warrior seemed to
recognize Edward, for he fixed his eye upon him with an
upbraiding, yet sorrowful, look, and appeared to struggle, for
utterance. But he felt that death was dealing closely with him,
and resigning his purpose, and folding his hands as if in
devotion, he gave up his soul to his Creator. The look with which
he regarded Waverley in his dying moments did not strike him so
deeply at that crisis of hurry and confusion as when it recurred
to his imagination at the distance of some time. [Footnote: See
Note 8.]

Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The battle
was fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military
stores of the regular army remained in possession of the victors.
Never was a victory more complete. Scarce any escaped from the
battle, excepting the cavalry, who had left it at the very onset,
and even these were broken into different parties and scattered
all over the country. So far as our tale is concerned, we have
only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who, mounted on a horse
as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued the flight of
the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle, when some
dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and
cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world
that the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his
life thus giving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its
progress. His death was lamented by few. Most of those who knew
him agreed in the pithy observation of Ensign Maccombich, that
there 'was mair tint (lost) at Sheriff-Muir.' His friend,
Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only to exculpate his
favourite mare from any share in contributing to the catastrophe.
'He had tauld the laird a thousand times,' he said, 'that it was a
burning shame to put a martingale upon the puir thing, when he
would needs ride her wi' a curb of half a yard lang; and that he
could na but bring himsell (not to say her) to some mischief, by
flinging her down, or otherwise; whereas, if he had had a wee bit
rinnin ring on the snaffle, she wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a
cadger's pownie.'

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. [Footnote: See
Note 9.]





CHAPTER XLVIII

AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT


When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the
Baron of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and
having disposed those under his command in their proper stations,
sought the Chieftain of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward
Waverley. He found the former busied in determining disputes among
his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of valour,
besides sundry high and doubtful questions concerning plunder. The
most important of the last respected the property of a gold watch,
which had once belonged to some unfortunate English officer. The
party against whom judgment was awarded consoled himself by
observing, 'She (i.e. the watch, which he took for a living
animal) died the very night Vich lan Vohr gave her to Murdoch';
the machine, having, in fact, stopped for want of winding up.

It was just when this important question was decided that the
Baron of Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression
of countenance, joined the two young men. He descended from his
reeking charger, the care of which he recommended to one of his
grooms. 'I seldom ban, sir,' said he to the man; 'but if you play
any of your hound's-foot tricks, and leave puir Berwick before
he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil be wi' me if I do not
give your craig a thraw.' He then stroked with great complacency
the animal which had borne him through the fatigues of the day,
and having taken a tender leave of him--' Weel, my good young
friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he; 'but these
loons of troopers fled ower soon. I should have liked to have
shown you the true points of the pralium equestre, or equestrian
combat, whilk their cowardice has postponed, and which I hold to
be the pride and terror of warfare. Weel--I have fought once more
in this old quarrel, though I admit I could not be so far BEN as
you lads, being that it was my point of duty to keep together our
handful of horse. And no cavalier ought in any wise to begrudge
honour that befalls his companions, even though they are ordered
upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by the blessing of
God, may be his own case. But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr.
Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a matter of
mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of the house of
Bradwardine. I crave your pardon, Ensign Maccombich, and yours,
Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.'

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering
the death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage
defiance. The Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had
already bent his brow when Glennaquoich dragged his major from the
spot, and remonstrated with him, in the authoritative tone of a
chieftain, on the madness of reviving a quarrel in such a moment.

'The ground is cumbered with carcasses,' said the old mountaineer,
turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'd upon
it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich lan Vohr, that one should
be Bradwardine's or mine.'

The Chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to
the Baron. 'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and
confidential voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years
since in the unlucky affair at the mains.'

'Ah!' said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness of
his features, 'I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have
unhappily rendered sic a displeasure as that. Ye were right to
apprise me, Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at
Martinmas ere Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him
wrang. Ah! I have nae male lineage, and I should bear with one I
have made childless, though you are aware the blood-wit was made
up to your ain satisfaction by assythment, and that I have since
expedited letters of slains. Weel, as I have said, I have no male
issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain the honour of my
house; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your peculiar and
private attention.'

The two young men awaited to hear him, in anxious curiosity.

'I doubt na, lads,' he proceeded, 'but your education has been sae
seen to that ye understand the true nature of the feudal tenures?'

Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 'Intimately,
Baron,' and touched Waverley as a signal to express no ignorance.

'And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the barony of
Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being
blanch (which Craig opines ought to be Latinated blancum, or
rather francum, a free holding) pro servitio detrahendi, seu
exuendi, caligas regis post battalliam.' Here Fergus turned his
falcon eye upon Edward, with an almost imperceptible rise of his
eyebrow, to which his shoulders corresponded in the same degree of
elevation. 'Now, twa points of dubitation occur to me upon this
topic. First, whether this service, or feudal homage, be at any
event due to the person of the Prince, the words being, per
expressum, caligas REGIS, the boots of the king himself; and I
pray your opinion anent that particular before we proceed
farther.'

'Why, he is Prince Regent,' answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable
composure of countenance; 'and in the court of France all the
honours are rendered to the person of the Regent which are due to
that of the King. Besides, were I to pull off either of their
boots, I would render that service to the young Chevalier ten
times more willingly than to his father.'

' Ay, but I talk not of personal predilections. However, your
authority is of great weight as to the usages of the court of
France; and doubtless the Prince, as alter ego, may have a right
to claim the homagium of the great tenants of the crown, since all
faithful subjects are commanded, in the commission of regency, to
respect him as the King's own person. Far, therefore, be it from
me to diminish the lustre of his authority by withholding this act
of homage, so peculiarly calculated to give it splendour; for I
question if the Emperor of Germany hath his boots taken off by a
free baron of the empire. But here lieth the second difficulty--
the Prince wears no boots, but simply brogues and trews.'

This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity.

'Why,' said he, 'you know, Baron, the proverb tells us, "It's ill
taking the breeks off a Highlandman," and the boots are here in
the same predicament.'

'The word caligae, however,' continued the Baron, 'though I admit
that, by family tradition, and even in our ancient evidents, it is
explained "lie-boots," means, in its primitive sense, rather
sandals; and Caius Caesar, the nephew and successor of Caius
Tiberius, received the agnomen of Caligula, a caligulis sine
caligis levioribus, quibus adolescentior usus fuerat in exercitu
Germanici patris sui. And the caligae were also proper to the
monastic bodies; for we read in an ancient glossarium upon the
rule of Saint Benedict, in the Abbey of Saint Amand, that caligae
were tied with latchets.'

'That will apply to the brogues,' said Fergus.

'It will so, my dear Glennaquoich, and the words are express:
Caligae, dicta sunt quia ligantur; nam socci non ligantur, sed
tantum intromittuntur; that is, caligae are denominated from the
ligatures wherewith they are bound; whereas socci, which may be
analogous to our mules, whilk the English denominate slippers, are
only slipped upon the feet. The words of the charter are also
alternative, exuere seu detrahere; that is, to undo, as in the
case of sandals or brogues, and to pull of, as we say vernacularly
concerning boots. Yet I would we had more light; but I fear there
is little chance of finding hereabout any erudite author de re
vestiaria.'

'I should doubt it very much,' said the Chieftain, looking around
on the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with
spoils of the slain,'though the res vestiaria itself seems to be
in some request at present.'

This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he
honoured it with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him
appeared very serious business.

'Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds an opinion that this honorary
service is due, from its very nature, si petatur tantum; only if
his Royal Highness shall require of the great tenant of the crown
to perform that personal duty; and indeed he pointed out the case
in Dirleton's Doubts and Queries, Grippit versus Spicer, anent the
eviction of an estate ob non solutum canonem; that is, for non-
payment of a feu-duty of three pepper-corns a year, whilk were
taxt to be worth seven-eighths of a penny Scots, in whilk the
defender was assoilzied. But I deem it safest, wi' your good
favour, to place myself in the way of rendering the Prince this
service, and to proffer performance thereof; and I shall cause the
Bailie to attend with a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here
prepared (taking out a paper), intimating, that if it shall be his
Royal Highness's pleasure to accept of other assistance at pulling
off his caligae (whether the same shall be rendered boots or
brogues) save that of the said Baron of Bradwardine, who is in
presence ready and willing to perform the same, it shall in no
wise impinge upon or prejudice the right of the said Cosmo Comyne
Bradwardine to perform the said service in future; nor shall it
give any esquire, valet of the chamber, squire, or page, whose
assistance it may please his Royal Highness to employ, any right,
title, or ground for evicting from the said Cosmo Comyne
Bradwardine the estate and barony of Bradwardine, and others held
as aforesaid, by the due and faithful performance thereof.'

Fergus highly applauded this arrangement; and the Baron took a
friendly leave of them, with a smile of contented importance upon
his visage.

'Long live our dear friend the Baron,' exclaimed the Chief, as
soon as he was out of hearing, 'for the most absurd original that
exists north of the Tweed! I wish to heaven I had recommended him
to attend the circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his arm.
I think he might have adopted the suggestion if it had been made
with suitable gravity.'

'And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth so
ridiculous?'

'Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as he.
Why, do you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up in
this ceremony? He has heard and thought of it since infancy as the
most august privilege and ceremony in the world; and I doubt not
but the expected pleasure of performing it was a principal motive
with him for taking up arms. Depend upon it, had I endeavoured to
divert him from exposing himself he would have treated me as an
ignorant, conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might have taken a fancy
to cut my throat; a pleasure which he once proposed to himself
upon some point of etiquette not half so important, in his eyes,
as this matter of boots or brogues, or whatever the caliga shall
finally be pronounced by the learned. But I must go to
headquarters, to prepare the Prince for this extraordinary scene.
My information will be well taken, for it will give him a hearty
laugh at present, and put him on his guard against laughing when
it might be very mal-a-propos. So, au revoir, my dear Waverley.'





CHAPTER XLIX

THE ENGLISH PRISONER


The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the
Chieftain, was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had
saved. He was guarded, along with his companions in misfortune,
who were very numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of
battle.

On entering the room where they stood crowded together, Waverley
easily recognised the object of his visit, not only by the
peculiar dignity of his appearance, but by the appendage of Dugald
Mahony, with his battleaxe, who had stuck to him from the moment
of his captivity as if he had been skewered to his side. This
close attendance was perhaps for the purpose of securing his
promised reward from Edward, but it also operated to save the
English gentleman from being plundered in the scene of general
confusion; for Dugald sagaciously argued that the amount of the
salvage which he might be allowed would be regulated by the state
of the prisoner when he should deliver him over to Waverley. He
hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more words than he
usually employed, that he had 'keepit ta sidier roy haill, and
that he wasna a plack the waur since the fery moment when his
honour forbad her to gie him a bit clamhewit wi' her Lochaber-
axe.'

Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, approaching
the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do anything which
might contribute to his convenience under his present unpleasant
circumstances.

'I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,' answered the
Englishman, 'as to complain of the fortune of war. I am only
grieved to see those scenes acted in our own island which I have
often witnessed elsewhere with comparative indifference.'

'Another such day as this,' said Waverley, 'and I trust the cause
of your regrets will be removed, and all will again return to
peace and order.'

The officer smiled and shook his head. 'I must not forget my
situation so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that
opinion; but, notwithstanding your success and the valour which
achieved it, you have undertaken a task to which your strength
appears wholly inadequate.'

At this moment Fergus pushed into the press.

'Come, Edward, come along; the Prince has gone to Pinkie House for
the night; and we must follow, or lose the whole ceremony of the
caligae. Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a great piece
of cruelty; he has insisted upon dragging Bailie Macwheeble out to
the field of battle. Now, you must know, the Bailie's greatest
horror is an armed Highlander or a loaded gun; and there he
stands, listening to the Baron's instructions concerning the
protest, ducking his head like a sea-gull at the report of every
gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing upon the fields, and
undergoing, by way of penance, at every symptom of flinching a
severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the discharge
of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank distance, as an
apology for neglecting a discourse in which the honour of his
family is interested.'

'But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?' said
Edward.

'Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of
making some of our wills; and the peremptory commands of the Baron
dragged him forward to Preston after the battle was over. He
complains of one or two of our ragamuffins having put him in peril
of his life by presenting their pieces at him; but as they limited
his ransom to an English penny, I don't think we need trouble the
provost-marshal upon that subject. So come along, Waverley.'

'Waverley!' said the English officer, with great emotion;' the
nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of----shire?'

'The same, sir,' replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the tone
in which he was addressed.

'I am at once happy and grieved,' said the prisoner, 'to have met
with you.'

'I am ignorant, sir,' answered Waverley, 'how I have deserved so
much interest.'

'Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot?'

'I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person,'
replied Edward; 'a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the
husband of Lady Emily Blandeville; but I thought Colonel Talbot
had been abroad.'

'I am just returned,' answered the officer; 'and being in
Scotland, thought it my duty to act where my services promised to
be useful. Yes, Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the
husband of the lady you have named; and I am proud to acknowledge
that I owe alike my professional rank and my domestic happiness to
your generous and noble-minded relative. Good God! that I should
find his nephew in such a dress, and engaged in such a cause!'

'Sir,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the dress and cause are those of
men of birth and honour.'

'My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,' said Colonel
Talbot; 'otherwise it were no difficult matter to show that
neither courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause. But,
with Mr. Waverley's permission and yours, sir, if yours also must
be asked, I would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs
connected with his own family.'

'Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions. You will follow me,
I suppose, to Pinkie,' said Fergus, turning to Edward, 'when you
have finished your discourse with this new acquaintance?' So
saying, the Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather
more than his usual air of haughty assumption and left the
apartment.

The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot the
freedom of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place of
confinement. They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot
apparently studying how to open what he had to say; at length he
addressed Edward.

'Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life; and yet I would to
God that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the uniform
and cockade of these men.'

'I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot; it is well meant, and
your education and prejudices render it natural. But there is
nothing extraordinary in finding a man whose honour has been
publicly and unjustly assailed in the situation which promised
most fair to afford him satisfaction on his calumniators.'

'I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the
reports which they have circulated,' said Colonel Talbot, 'by
following the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware,
Mr. Waverley, of the infinite distress, and even danger, which
your present conduct has occasioned to your nearest relatives?'

'Danger!'

'Yes, sir, danger. When I left England your uncle and father had
been obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to which
they were only admitted by the exertion of the most powerful
interest. I came down to Scotland with the sole purpose of
rescuing you from the gulf into which you have precipitated
yourself; nor can I estimate the consequences to your family of
your having openly joined the rebellion, since the very suspicion
of your intention was so perilous to them. Most deeply do I regret
that I did not meet you before this last and fatal error.'

'I am really ignorant,' said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 'why
Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account.'

'Mr. Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending irony;
and therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain
meaning. I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than
those which a son owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty
of a son; and as I know there is no manner in which I can requite
his kindness so well as by serving you, I will serve you, if
possible, whether you will permit me or no. The personal
obligation which you have this day laid me under (although, in
common estimation, as great as one human being can bestow on
another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that zeal
be abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive
it.'

'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but
your language is harsh, or at least peremptory.'

'On my return to England,' continued Colonel Talbot, 'after long
absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody
of a king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought
upon him by your conduct. He is my oldest friend--how often shall
I repeat it?--my best benefactor! he sacrificed his own views of
happiness to mine; he never uttered a word, he never harboured a
thought, that benevolence itself might not have thought or spoken.
I found this man in confinement, rendered harsher to him by his
habits of life, his natural dignity of feeling, and--forgive me,
Mr. Waverley--by the cause through which this calamity had come
upon him. I cannot disguise from you my feelings upon this
occasion; they were most painfully unfavorable to you. Having by
my family interest, which you probably know is not inconsiderable,
succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard's release, I set out for
Scotland. I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is
sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. In the
course of conversation with him I found that, from late
circumstances, from a reexamination of the persons engaged in the
mutiny, and from his original good opinion of your character, he
was much softened towards you; and I doubted not that, if I could
be so fortunate as to discover you, all might yet be well. But
this unnatural rebellion has ruined all. I have, for the first
time in a long and active military life, seen Britons disgrace
themselves by a panic flight, and that before a foe without either
arms or discipline. And now I find the heir of my dearest friend--
the son, I may say, of his affections--sharing a triumph for
which he ought the first to have blushed. Why should I lament
Gardiner? his lot was happy compared to mine!'

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a
mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir
Everard's imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that
Edward stood mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence of the
prisoner who owed to him his life not many hours before. He was
not sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a second time.

'His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley's attendance.' Colonel
Talbot threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not
escape the quick eye of the Highland Chief. 'His immediate
attendance,' he repeated, with considerable emphasis. Waverley
turned again towards the Colonel.

'We shall meet again,' he said; 'in the meanwhile, every possible
accommodation--'

'I desire none,' said the Colonel; 'let me fare like the meanest
of those brave men who, on this day of calamity, have preferred
wounds and captivity to flight; I would almost exchange places
with one of those who have fallen to know that my words have made
a suitable impression on your mind.'

'Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured,' said Fergus to the
Highland officer who commanded the guard over the prisoners; 'it
is the Prince's particular command; he is a prisoner of the utmost
importance.'

'But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank,' said
Waverley. 'Consistent always with secure custody,' reiterated
Fergus. The officer signified his acquiescence in both commands,
and Edward followed Fergus to the garden-gate, where Callum Beg,
with three saddle-horses, awaited them. Turning his head, he saw
Colonel Talbot reconducted to his place of confinement by a file
of Highlanders; he lingered on the threshold of the door and made
a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if enforcing the
language he had held towards him.

'Horses,' said Fergus, as he mounted, 'are now as plenty as
blackberries; every man may have them for the catching. Come, let
Callum adjust your stirrups and let us to Pinkie House [Footnote:
Charles Edward took up his quarters after the battle at Pinkie
House, adjoining to Musselburgh.] as fast as these ci-devant
dragoon-horses choose to carry us.'





CHAPTER L

RATHER UNIMPORTANT


'I was turned back,' said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped from
Preston to Pinkie House, 'by a message from the Prince. But I
suppose you know the value of this most noble Colonel Talbot as a
prisoner. He is held one of the best officers among the red-coats,
a special friend and favourite of the Elector himself, and of that
dreadful hero, the Duke of Cumberland, who has been summoned from
his triumphs at Fontenoy to come over and devour us poor
Highlanders alive. Has he been telling you how the bells of St.
James's ring? Not "turn again, Whittington," like those of Bow, in
the days of yore?'

'Fergus!' said Waverley, with a reproachful look.

'Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you,' answered the Chief of
Mac-Ivor, 'you are blown about with every wind of doctrine. Here
have we gained a victory unparalleled in history, and your
behaviour is praised by every living mortal to the skies, and the
Prince is eager to thank you in person, and all our beauties of
the White Rose are pulling caps for you;--and you, the preux
chevalier of the day, are stooping on your horse's neck like a
butter-woman riding to market, and looking as black as a funeral!'

'I am sorry for poor Colonel Gardiner's death; he was once very
kind to me.'

'Why, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be glad again; his
chance to-day may be ours to-morrow; and what does it signify? The
next best thing to victory is honourable death; but it is a PIS-
ALLER, and one would rather a foe had it than one's self.'

'But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father and uncle are
both imprisoned by government on my account.'

'We'll put in bail, my boy; old Andrew Ferrara [Footnote: See Note
10] shall lodge his security; and I should like to see him put to
justify it in Westminster Hall!'

'Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more civic
disposition.'

'Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward? Dost think that
the Elector's ministers are such doves as to set their enemies at
liberty at this critical moment if they could or durst confine and
punish them? Assure thyself that either they have no charge
against your relations on which they can continue their
imprisonment, or else they are afraid of our friends, the jolly
Cavaliers of old England. At any rate, you need not be
apprehensive upon their account; and we will find some means of
conveying to them assurances of your safety.'

Edward was silenced but not satisfied with these reasons. He had
now been more than once shocked at the small degree of sympathy
which Fergus exhibited for the feelings even of those whom he
loved, if they did not correspond with his own mood at the time,
and more especially if they thwarted him while earnest in a
favourite pursuit. Fergus sometimes indeed observed that he had
offended Waverley, but, always intent upon some favourite plan or
project of his own, he was never sufficiently aware of the extent
or duration of his displeasure, so that the reiteration of these
petty offences somewhat cooled the volunteer's extreme attachment
to his officer.

The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual favour, and paid
him many compliments on his distinguished bravery. He then took
him apart, made many inquiries concerning Colonel Talbot, and when
he had received all the information which Edward was able to give
concerning him and his connexions, he proceeded--'I cannot but
think, Mr. Waverley, that since this gentleman is so particularly
connected with our worthy and excellent friend, Sir Everard
Waverley, and since his lady is of the house of Blandeville, whose
devotion to the true and loyal principles of the Church of England
is so generally known, the Colonel's own private sentiments cannot
be unfavorable to us, whatever mask he may have assumed to
accommodate himself to the times.'

'If I am to judge from the language he this day held to me, I am
under the necessity of differing widely from your Royal Highness.'

'Well, it is worth making a trial at least. I therefore entrust
you with the charge of Colonel Talbot, with power to act
concerning him as you think most advisable; and I hope you will
find means of ascertaining what are his real dispositions towards
our Royal Father's restoration.'

'I am convinced,' said Waverley, bowing, 'that if Colonel Talbot
chooses to grant his parole, it may be securely depended upon; but
if he refuses it, I trust your Royal Highness will devolve on some
other person than the nephew of his friend the task of laying him
under the necessary restraint.'

'I will trust him with no person but you,' said the Prince,
smiling, but peremptorily repeating his mandate; 'it is of
importance to my service that there should appear to be a good
intelligence between you, even if you are unable to gain his
confidence in earnest. You will therefore receive him into your
quarters, and in case he declines giving his parole, you must
apply for a proper guard. I beg you will go about this directly.
We return to Edinburgh tomorrow.'

Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Waverley lost the
Baron of Bradwardine's solemn act of homage. So little, however,
was he at this time in love with vanity, that he had quite
forgotten the ceremony in which Fergus had laboured to engage his
curiosity. But next day a formal 'Gazette' was circulated,
containing a detailed account of the battle of Gladsmuir, as the
Highlanders chose to denominate their victory. It concluded with
an account of the court afterwards held by the Chevalier at Pinkie
House, which contained this among other high-flown descriptive
paragraphs:--

'Since that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as an
independent nation, it has not been our happiness to see her
princes receive, and her nobles discharge, those acts of feudal
homage which, founded upon the splendid actions of Scottish
valour, recall the memory of her early history, with the manly and
chivalrous simplicity of the ties which united to the Crown the
homage of the warriors by whom it was repeatedly upheld and
defended. But on the evening of the 20th our memories were
refreshed with one of those ceremonies which belong to the ancient
days of Scotland's glory. After the circle was formed, Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine of that ilk, colonel in the service, etc.,
etc., etc., came before the Prince, attended by Mr. D. Macwheeble,
the Bailie of his ancient barony of Bradwardine (who, we
understand, has been lately named a commissary), and, under form
of instrument, claimed permission to perform to the person of his
Royal Highness, as representing his father, the service used and
wont, for which, under a charter of Robert Bruce (of which the
original was produced and inspected by the Masters of his Royal
Highness's Chancery for the time being), the claimant held the
barony of Bradwardine and lands of Tully-Veolan. His claim being
admitted and registered, his Royal Highness having placed his foot
upon a cushion, the Baron of Bradwardine, kneeling upon his right
knee, proceeded to undo the latchet of the brogue, or low-heeled
Highland shoe, which our gallant young hero wears in compliment to
his brave followers. When this was performed, his Royal Highness
declared the ceremony completed; and, embracing the gallant
veteran, protested that nothing but compliance with an ordinance
of Robert Bruce could have induced him to receive even the
symbolical performance of a menial office from hands which had
fought so bravely to put the crown upon the head of his father.
The Baron of Bradwardine then took instruments in the hands of Mr.
Commissary Macwheeble, bearing that all points and circumstances
of the act of homage had been rite et solenniter acta et peracta;
and a corresponding entry was made in the protocol of the Lord
High Chamberlain and in the record of Chancery. We understand that
it is in contemplation of his Royal Highness, when his Majesty's
pleasure can be known, to raise Colonel Bradwardine to the
peerage, by the title of Viscount Bradwardine of Bradwardine and
Tully-Veolan, and that, in the meanwhile, his Royal Highness, in
his father's name and authority, has been pleased to grant him an
honourable augmentation to his paternal coat of arms, being a
budget or boot-jack, disposed saltier-wise with a naked
broadsword, to be borne in the dexter cantle of the shield; and,
as an additional motto, on a scroll beneath, the words, "Draw and
draw off."'

'Were it not for the recollection of Fergus's raillery,' thought
Waverley to himself, when he had perused this long and grave
document,' how very tolerably would all this sound, and how little
should I have thought of connecting it with any ludicrous idea!
Well, after all, everything has its fair as well as its seamy
side; and truly I do not see why the Baron's boot-jack may not
stand as fair in heraldry as the water-buckets, waggons, cart-
wheels, plough-socks, shuttles, candlesticks, and other
ordinaries, conveying ideas of anything save chivalry, which
appear in the arms of some of our most ancient gentry.'

This, however, is an episode in respect to the principal story.

When Waverley returned to Preston and rejoined Colonel Talbot, he
found him recovered from the strong and obvious emotions with
which a concurrence of unpleasing events had affected him. He had
regained his natural manner, which was that of an English
gentleman and soldier, manly, open and generous, but not
unsusceptible of prejudice against those of a different country,
or who opposed him in political tenets. When Waverley acquainted
Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier's purpose to commit him to his
charge, 'I did not think to have owed so much obligation to that
young gentleman,' he said, 'as is implied in this destination. I
can at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest
Presbyterian clergyman, that, as he has come among us seeking an
earthly crown, his labours may be speedily rewarded with a
heavenly one. [Footnote: The clergyman's name was Mac-Vicar.
Protected by the cannon of the Castle, he preached every Sunday in
the West Kirk while the Highlanders were in possession of
Edinburgh, and it was in presence of some of the Jacobites that he
prayed for Prince Charles Edward in the terms quoted in the text.]
I shall willingly give my parole not to attempt an escape without
your knowledge, since, in fact, it was to meet you that I came to
Scotland; and I am glad it has happened even under this
predicament. But I suppose we shall be but a short time together.
Your Chevalier (that is a name we may both give to him), with his
plaids and blue caps, will, I presume, be continuing his crusade
southward?'

'Not as I hear; I believe the army makes some stay in Edinburgh to
collect reinforcements.'

'And to besiege the Castle?' said Talbot, smiling sarcastically.
'Well, unless my old commander, General Preston, turn false metal,
or the Castle sink into the North Loch, events which I deem
equally probable, I think we shall have some time to make up our
acquaintance. I have a guess that this gallant Chevalier has a
design that I should be your proselyte; and, as I wish you to be
mine, there cannot be a more fair proposal than to afford us fair
conference together. But, as I spoke today under the influence of
feelings I rarely give way to, I hope you will excuse my entering
again upon controversy till we are somewhat better acquainted.'





CHAPTER LI

INTRIGUES OF LOVE AND POLITICS


It is not necessary to record in these pages the triumphant
entrance of the Chevalier into Edinburgh after the decisive affair
at Preston. One circumstance, however, may be noticed, because it
illustrates the high spirit of Flora Mac-Ivor. The Highlanders by
whom the Prince was surrounded, in the license and extravagance of
this joyful moment, fired their pieces repeatedly, and one of
these having been accidentally loaded with ball, the bullet grazed
the young lady's temple as she waved her handkerchief from a
balcony. [Footnote: See Note II.] Fergus, who beheld the accident,
was at her side in an instant; and, on seeing that the wound was
trifling, he drew his broadsword with the purpose of rushing down
upon the man by whose carelessness she had incurred so much
danger, when, holding him by the plaid, 'Do not harm the poor
fellow,' she cried; 'for Heaven's sake, do not harm him! but thank
God with me that the accident happened to Flora Mac-Ivor; for had
it befallen a Whig, they would have pretended that the shot was
fired on purpose.'

Waverley escaped the alarm which this accident would have
occasioned to him, as he was unavoidably delayed by the necessity
of accompanying Colonel Talbot to Edinburgh.

They performed the journey together on horseback, and for some
time, as if to sound each other's feelings and sentiments, they
conversed upon general and ordinary topics.

When Waverley again entered upon the subject which he had most at
heart, the situation, namely, of his father and his uncle, Colonel
Talbot seemed now rather desirous to alleviate than to aggravate
his anxiety. This appeared particularly to be the case when he
heard Waverley's history, which he did not scruple to confide to
him.

'And so,' said the Colonel, 'there has been no malice prepense, as
lawyers, I think, term it, in this rash step of yours; and you
have been trepanned into the service of this Italian knight-errant
by a few civil speeches from him and one or two of his Highland
recruiting sergeants? It is sadly foolish, to be sure, but not
nearly so bad as I was led to expect. However, you cannot desert,
even from the Pretender, at the present moment; that seems
impossible. But I have little doubt that, in the dissensions
incident to this heterogeneous mass of wild and desperate men,
some opportunity may arise, by availing yourself of which you may
extricate yourself honourably from your rash engagement before the
bubble burst. If this can be managed, I would have you go to a
place of safety in Flanders which I shall point out. And I think I
can secure your pardon from government after a few months'
residence abroad.'

'I cannot permit you, Colonel Talbot,' answered Waverley, 'to
speak of any plan which turns on my deserting an enterprise in
which I may have engaged hastily, but certainly voluntarily, and
with the purpose of abiding the issue.'

'Well,' said Colonel Talbot, smiling, 'leave me my thoughts and
hopes at least at liberty, if not my speech. But have you never
examined your mysterious packet?'

'It is in my baggage,' replied Edward; 'we shall find it in
Edinburgh.'

In Edinburgh they soon arrived. Waverley's quarters had been
assigned to him, by the Prince's express orders, in a handsome
lodging, where there was accommodation for Colonel Talbot. His
first business was to examine his portmanteau, and, after a very
short search, out tumbled the expected packet. Waverley opened it
eagerly. Under a blank cover, simply addressed to E. Waverley,
Esq., he found a number of open letters. The uppermost were two
from Colonel Gardiner addressed to himself. The earliest in date
was a kind and gentle remonstrance for neglect of the writer's
advice respecting the disposal of his time during his leave of
absence, the renewal of which, he reminded Captain Waverley, would
speedily expire. 'Indeed,' the letter proceeded, 'had it been
otherwise, the news from abroad and my instructions from the War
Office must have compelled me to recall it, as there is great
danger, since the disaster in Flanders, both of foreign invasion
and insurrection among the disaffected at home. I therefore
entreat you will repair as soon as possible to the headquarters of
the regiment; and I am concerned to add that this is still the
more necessary as there is some discontent in your troop, and I
postpone inquiry into particulars until I can have the advantage
of your assistance.'

The second letter, dated eight days later, was in such a style as
might have been expected from the Colonel's receiving no answer to
the first. It reminded Waverley of his duty as a man of honour, an
officer, and a Briton; took notice of the increasing
dissatisfaction of his men, and that some of them had been heard
to hint that their Captain encouraged and approved of their
mutinous behaviour; and, finally, the writer expressed the utmost
regret and surprise that he had not obeyed his commands by
repairing to headquarters, reminded him that his leave of absence
had been recalled, and conjured him, in a style in which paternal
remonstrance was mingled with military authority, to redeem his
error by immediately joining his regiment. 'That I may be
certain,' concluded the letter, 'that this actually reaches you, I
despatch it by Corporal Tims of your troop, with orders to deliver
it into your own hand.'

Upon reading these letters Waverley, with great bitterness of
feeling, was compelled to make the amende honorable to the memory
of the brave and excellent writer; for surely, as Colonel Gardiner
must have had every reason to conclude they had come safely to
hand, less could not follow, on their being neglected, than that
third and final summons, which Waverley actually received at
Glennaquoich, though too late to obey it. And his being
superseded, in consequence of his apparent neglect of this last
command, was so far from being a harsh or severe proceeding, that
it was plainly inevitable. The next letter he unfolded was from
the major of the regiment, acquainting him that a report to the
disadvantage of his reputation was public in the country, stating,
that one Mr. Falconer of Ballihopple, or some such name, had
proposed in his presence a treasonable toast, which he permitted
to pass in silence, although it was so gross an affront to the
royal family that a gentleman in company, not remarkable for his
zeal for government, had never theless taken the matter up, and
that, supposing the account true, Captain Waverley had thus
suffered another, comparatively unconcerned, to resent an affront
directed against him personally as an officer, and to go out with
the person by whom it was offered. The major concluded that no on

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