Waverley

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed;

and again,--

She hath forsworn to love.

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER LV

A BRAVE MAN IN SORROW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Good God, my uncle!' exclaimed Waverley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply.



CHAPTER LVI

EXERTION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a short time they arrived at the seaport:

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER LVII

THE MARCH

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

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