Waverley; Or 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER LXII

  WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT?

  Itwas twilight when they arrived in town; and having shaken off hiscompanions, and walked through a good many streets to avoid thepossibility of being traced by them, Edward took a hackney-coach anddrove to Colonel Talbot's house, in one of the principal squares at thewest end of the town. That gentleman, by the death of relations, hadsucceeded since his marriage to a large fortune, possessed considerablepolitical interest, and lived in what is called great style.

  When Waverley knocked at his door he found it at first difficult toprocure admittance, but at length was shown into an apartment where theColonel was at table. Lady Emily, whose very beautiful features werestill pallid from indisposition, sate opposite to him. The instant heheard Waverley's voice, he started up and embraced him. 'Frank Stanley,my dear boy, how d'ye do? Emily, my love, this is young Stanley.'

  The blood started to the lady's cheek as she gave Waverley a receptionin which courtesy was mingled with kindness, while her trembling handand faltering voice showed how much she was startled and discomposed.Dinner was hastily replaced, and while Waverley was engaged inrefreshing himself, the Colonel proceeded--'I wonder you have comehere, Frank; the Doctors tell me the air of London is very bad for yourcomplaints. You should not have risked it. But I am delighted to seeyou, and so is Emily, though I fear we must not reckon upon yourstaying long.'

  'Some particular business brought me up,' muttered Waverley.

  'I supposed so, but I shan't allow you to stay long. Spontoon' (to anelderly military-looking servant out of livery),'take away thesethings, and answer the bell yourself, if I ring. Don't let any of theother fellows disturb us. My nephew and I have business to talk of.'

  When the servants had retired, 'In the name of God, Waverley, what hasbrought you here? It may be as much as your life is worth.'

  'Dear Mr. Waverley,' said Lady Emily, 'to whom I owe so much more thanacknowledgments can ever pay, how could you be so rash?'

  'My father--my uncle--this paragraph,'--he handed the paper to ColonelTalbot.

  'I wish to Heaven these scoundrels were condemned to be squeezed todeath in their own presses,' said Talbot. 'I am told there are not lessthan a dozen of their papers now published in town, and no wonder thatthey are obliged to invent lies to find sale for their journals. It istrue, however, my dear Edward, that you have lost your father; but asto this flourish of his unpleasant situation having grated upon hisspirits and hurt his health--the truth is--for though it is harsh tosay so now, yet it will relieve your mind from the idea of weightyresponsibility--the truth then is, that Mr. Richard Waverley, throughthis whole business, showed great want of sensibility, both to yoursituation and that of your uncle; and the last time I saw him, he toldme, with great glee, that, as I was so good as to take charge of yourinterests, he had thought it best to patch up a separate negotiationfor himself, and make his peace with government through some channelswhich former connexions left still open to him.'

  'And my uncle, my dear uncle?'

  'Is in no danger whatever. It is true (looking at the date of thepaper) there was a foolish report some time ago to the purport herequoted, but it is entirely false. Sir Everard is gone down toWaverley-Honour, freed from all uneasiness, unless upon your ownaccount. But you are in peril yourself; your name is in everyproclamation; warrants are out to apprehend you. How and when did youcome here?'

  Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quarrel with Fergus;for, being himself partial to Highlanders, he did not wish to give anyadvantage to the Colonel's national prejudice against them.

  'Are you sure it was your friend Glen's foot-boy you saw dead inClifton Moor?'

  'Quite positive.'

  'Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the gallows, forcut-throat was written in his face; though (turning to Lady Emily) itwas a very handsome face too. But for you, Edward, I wish you would godown again to Cumberland, or rather I wish you had never stirred fromthence, for there is an embargo in all the seaports, and a strictsearch for the adherents of the Pretender; and the tongue of thatconfounded woman will wag in her head like the clack of a mill, tillsomehow or other she will detect Captain Butler to be a feignedpersonage.'

  'Do you know anything,' asked Waverley, 'of my fellow-traveller?'

  'Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years; she was a buxomwidow, with a little money; he married her, was steady, and got on bybeing a good drill. I must send Spontoon to see what she is about; hewill find her out among the old regimental connections. To-morrow youmust be indisposed, and keep your room from fatigue. Lady Emily is tobe your nurse, and Spontoon and I your attendants. You bear the name ofa near relation of mine, whom none of my present people ever saw,except Spontoon, so there will be no immediate danger. So pray feelyour head ache and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that youmay be put upon the sick-list; and, Emily, do you order an apartmentfor Frank Stanley, with all the attentions which an invalid mayrequire.'

  In the morning the Colonel visited his guest. 'Now,' said he, 'I havesome good news for you. Your reputation as a gentleman and officer iseffectually cleared of neglect of duty and accession to the mutiny inGardiner's regiment. I have had a correspondence on this subject with avery zealous friend of yours, your Scottish parson, Morton; his firstletter was addressed to Sir Everard; but I relieved the good Baronet ofthe trouble of answering it. You must know, that your free-bootingacquaintance, Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the handsof the Philistines. He was driving off the cattle of a certainproprietor, called Killan--something or other--'

  'Killancureit?'

  'The same. Now the gentleman being, it seems, a great farmer, andhaving a special value for his breed of cattle, being, moreover, ratherof a timid disposition, had got a party of soldiers to protect hisproperty. So Donald ran his head unawares into the lion's mouth, andwas defeated and made prisoner. Being ordered for execution, hisconscience was assailed on the one hand by a Catholic priest, on theother by your friend Morton. He repulsed the Catholic chiefly onaccount of the doctrine of extreme unction, which this economicalgentleman considered as an excessive waste of oil. So his conversionfrom a state of impenitence fell to Mr. Morton's share, who, I daresay,acquitted himself excellently, though I suppose Donald made but a queerkind of Christian after all. He confessed, however, before amagistrate, one Major Melville, who seems to have been a correct,friendly sort of person, his full intrigue with Houghton, explainingparticularly how it was carried on, and fully acquitting you of theleast accession to it. He also mentioned his rescuing you from thehands of the volunteer officer, and sending you, by orders of thePret--Chevalier, I mean--as a prisoner to Doune, from whence heunderstood you were carried prisoner to Edinburgh. These areparticulars which cannot but tell in your favour. He hinted that he hadbeen employed to deliver and protect you, and rewarded for doing so;but he would not confess by whom, alleging that, though he would nothave minded breaking any ordinary oath to satisfy the curiosity of Mr.Morton, to whose pious admonitions he owed so much, yet, in the presentcase he had been sworn to silence upon the edge of his dirk, [Footnote:See Note 14.] which, it seems, constituted, in his opinion, aninviolable obligation.'

  'And what is become of him?'

  'Oh, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised the siege, withhis lieutenant and four plaids besides; he having the advantage of agallows more lofty than his friends.'

  'Well, I have little cause either to regret or rejoice at his death;and yet he has done me both good and harm to a very considerableextent.'

  'His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it wipesfrom your character all those suspicions which gave the accusationagainst you a complexion of a nature different from that with which somany unfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in arms against thegovernment, may be justly charged. Their treason--I must give it itsname, though you participate in its guilt--is an action arising frommistaken virtue, and therefore cannot be classed as a disgrace, thoughit be dou
btless highly criminal. Where the guilty are so numerous,clemency must be extended to far the greater number; and I have littledoubt of procuring a remission for you, providing we can keep you outof the claws of justice till she has selected and gorged upon hervictims; for in this, as in other cases, it will be according to thevulgar proverb, "First come, first served." Besides, government aredesirous at present to intimidate the English Jacobites, among whomthey can find few examples for punishment. This is a vindictive andtimid feeling which will soon wear off, for of all nations the Englishare least blood-thirsty by nature. But it exists at present, and youmust therefore be kept out of the way in the mean-time.'

  Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance. By his regimentalacquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and found her full ofire, fuss, and fidget at discovery of an impostor who had travelledfrom the north with her under the assumed name of Captain Butler ofGardiner's dragoons. She was going to lodge an information on thesubject, to have him sought for as an emissary of the Pretender; butSpontoon (an old soldier), while he pretended to approve, contrived tomake her delay her intention. No time, however, was to be lost: theaccuracy of this good dame's description might probably lead to thediscovery that Waverley was the pretended Captain Butler, anidentification fraught with danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle, andeven to Colonel Talbot. Which way to direct his course was now,therefore, the question.

  'To Scotland,' said Waverley.

  'To Scotland?' said the Colonel; 'with what purpose? not to engageagain with the rebels, I hope?'

  'No; I considered my campaign ended when, after all my efforts, I couldnot rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone to make awinter campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents as I am wouldrather be burdensome than useful. Indeed, it seems likely that theyonly prolong the war to place the Chevalier's person out of danger, andthen to make some terms for themselves. To burden them with my presencewould merely add another party, whom they would not give up and couldnot defend. I understand they left almost all their English adherentsin garrison at Carlisle, for that very reason. And on a more generalview, Colonel, to confess the truth, though it may lower me in youropinion, I am heartly tired of the trade of war, and am, as Fletcher'sHumorous Lieutenant says, "even as weary of this fighting-'"

  'Fighting! pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish or two? Ah! if yousaw war on the grand scale--sixty or a hundred thousand men in thefield on each side!'

  'I am not at all curious, Colonel. "Enough," says our homely proverb,"is as good as a feast." The plumed troops and the big war used toenchant me in poetry, but the night marches, vigils, couches under thewintry sky, and such accompaniments of the glorious trade, are not atall to my taste in practice; then for dry blows, I had MY fill offighting at Clifton, where I escaped by a hair's-breadth half a dozentimes; and you, I should think--' He stopped.

  'Had enough of it at Preston? you mean to say,' answered the Colonel,laughing; 'but 'tis my vocation, Hal.'

  'It is not mine, though,' said Waverley; 'and having honourably got ridof the sword, which I drew only as a volunteer, I am quite satisfiedwith my military experience, and shall be in no hurry to take it upagain.'

  'I am very glad you are of that mind; but then what would you do in thenorth?'

  'In the first place, there are some seaports on the eastern coast ofScotland still in the hands of the Chevalier's friends; should I gainany of them, I can easily embark for the Continent.'

  'Good, your second reason?'

  'Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in Scotland upon whomI now find my happiness depends more than I was always aware, and aboutwhose situation I am very anxious.'

  'Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in the case afterall? And which of these two pretty Scotchwomen, whom you insisted uponmy admiring, is the distinguished fair? not Miss Glen--I hope.'

  'No.'

  'Ah, pass for the other; simplicity may be improved, but pride andconceit never. Well, I don't discourage you; I think it will please SirEverard, from what he said when I jested with him about it; only I hopethat intolerable papa, with his brogue, and his snuff, and his Latin,and his insufferable long stories about the Duke of Berwick, will findit necessary hereafter to be an inhabitant of foreign parts. But as tothe daughter, though I think you might find as fitting a match inEngland, yet if your heart be really set upon this Scotch rosebud, whythe Baronet has a great opinion of her father and of his family, and hewishes much to see you married and settled, both for your own sake andfor that of the three ermines passant, which may otherwise pass awayaltogether. But I will bring you his mind fully upon the subject, sinceyou are debarred correspondence for the present, for I think you willnot be long in Scotland before me.'

  'Indeed! and what can induce you to think of returning to Scotland? Norelenting longings towards the land of mountains and floods, I amafraid.'

  'None, on my word; but Emily's health is now, thank God, reestablished,and, to tell you the truth, I have little hopes of concluding thebusiness which I have at present most at heart until I can have apersonal interview with his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief; for,as Fluellen says, "the duke doth love me well, and I thank heaven Ihave deserved some love at his hands." I am now going out for an houror two to arrange matters for your departure; your liberty extends tothe next room, Lady Emily's parlour, where you will find her when youare disposed for music, reading, or conversation. We have takenmeasures to exclude all servants but Spontoon, who is as true as steel.'

  In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found his young friendconversing with his lady; she pleased with his manners and information,and he delighted at being restored, though but for a moment, to thesociety of his own rank, from which he had been for some time excluded.

  'And now,' said the Colonel, 'hear my arrangements, for there is littletime to lose. This youngster, Edward Waverley, alias Williams, aliasCaptain Butler, must continue to pass by his fourth ALIAS of FrancisStanley, my nephew; he shall set out to-morrow for the North, and thechariot shall take him the first two stages. Spontoon shall then attendhim; and they shall ride post as far as Huntingdon; and the presence ofSpontoon, well known on the road as my servant, will check alldisposition to inquiry. At Huntingdon you will meet the real FrankStanley. He is studying at Cambridge; but, a little while ago, doubtfulif Emily's health would permit me to go down to the North myself, Iprocured him a passport from the secretary of state's office to go inmy stead. As he went chiefly to look after you, his journey is nowunnecessary. He knows your story; you will dine together at Huntingdon;and perhaps your wise heads may hit upon some plan for removing ordiminishing the danger of your farther progress north-ward. And now(taking out a morocco case), let me put you in funds for the campaign.'

  'I am ashamed, my dear Colonel--'

  'Nay,' said Colonel Talbot, 'you should command my purse in any event;but this money is your own. Your father, considering the chance of yourbeing attainted, left me his trustee for your advantage. So that youare worth above L15,000, besides Brere-Wood Lodge--a very independentperson, I promise you. There are bills here for L200; any larger sumyou may have, or credit abroad, as soon as your motions require it.'

  The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly acquired wealthwas to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his acceptance of asilver tankard on the part of his friend Williams, who had notforgotten the night of the eighteenth December last. He begged him atthe same time carefully to preserve for him his Highland garb andaccoutrements, particularly the arms, curious in themselves, and towhich the friendship of the donors gave additional value. Lady Emilyundertook to find some suitable token of remembrance likely to flatterthe vanity and please the taste of Mrs. Williams; and the Colonel, whowas a kind of farmer, promised to send the Ullswater patriarch anexcellent team of horses for cart and plough.

  One happy day Waverley spent in London; and, travelling in the mannerprojected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntingdon. The two young menwere acqua
inted in a minute.

  'I can read my uncle's riddle,' said Stanley;'the cautious old soldierdid not care to hint to me that I might hand over to you this passport,which I have no occasion for; but if it should afterwards come out asthe rattle-pated trick of a young Cantab, cela ne tire a rien. You aretherefore to be Francis Stanley, with this passport.' This proposalappeared in effect to alleviate a great part of the difficulties whichEdward must otherwise have encountered at every turn; and accordinglyhe scrupled not to avail himself of it, the more especially as he haddiscarded all political purposes from his present journey, and couldnot be accused of furthering machinations against the government whiletravelling under protection of the secretary's passport.

  The day passed merrily away. The young student was inquisitive aboutWaverley's campaigns, and the manners of the Highlands, and Edward wasobliged to satisfy his curiosity by whistling a pibroch, dancing astrathspey, and singing a Highland song. The next morning Stanley rodea stage northward with his new friend, and parted from him with greatreluctance, upon the remonstrances of Spontoon, who, accustomed tosubmit to discipline, was rigid in enforcing it.