by Walter Scott
CHAPTER LXI
A JOURNEY TO LONDON
The family at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Edward. He had,indeed, that gentleness and urbanity which almost universally attractscorresponding kindness; and to their simple ideas his learning gave himconsequence, and his sorrows interest. The last he ascribed, evasively,to the loss of a brother in the skirmish near Clifton; and in thatprimitive state of society, where the ties of affection were highlydeemed of, his continued depression excited sympathy, but not surprise.
In the end of January, his more lively powers were called out by thehappy union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with Cicely Jopson.Our hero would not cloud with sorrow the festivity attending the weddingof two persons to whom he was so highly obliged. He therefore exertedhimself, danced, sang, played at the various games of the day, and wasthe blithest of the company. The next morning, however, he had moreserious matters to think of.
The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased withthe supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith onpurpose to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling chapterhad he entered into any examination of our hero's supposed theologicalstudies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate thenews of the day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, inone of which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered himdeaf to every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon thenews from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily overtakingand crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, or nearly thesewords:
'Died at his house, in Hill street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10thinst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley ofWaverley-Honour, &c. &c. He died of a lingering disorder, augmented bythe unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, having beenobliged to find bail to a high amount, to meet an impending accusationof high-treason. An accusation of the same grave crime hangs over hiselder brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancientfamily; and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early inthe next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, andheir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice. In that case,we are assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to drop furtherproceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard. This unfortunateyoung gentleman is ascertained to have been in arms in the Pretender'sservice, and to have marched along with the Highland troops intoEngland. But he has not been heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, onthe 18th December last.'
Such was this distracting paragraph.--'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley,'am I then a parricide?--Impossible! My father, who never showed theaffection of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affectedby my supposed death as to hasten his own. No, I will not believeit,--it were distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea.But it were, if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger tohang over my noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me thana father, if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!'
While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions throughWaverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a longdisquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness which theycommunicated to his looks, and asked him if he was ill. Fortunately thebride, all smirk and blush, had just entered the room. Mrs. Williams wasnone of the brightest of women, but she was good-natured, and readilyconcluding that Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in thepapers, interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, shedrew off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it until he soon aftertook his leave. Waverley then explained to his friends, that he wasunder the necessity of going to London with as little delay as possible.
One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had been verylittle accustomed. His purse, though well stocked when he first went toTully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that period; and althoughhis life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hastily (for hehad lived chiefly with his friends or with the army), yet he found,that, after settling with his kind landlord, he should be too poor toencounter the expense of travelling post. The best course, therefore,seemed to be, to get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, andthere take a place in the Northern Diligence,--a huge old-fashioned tub,drawn by three horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh toLondon (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks.Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberlandfriends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hopedone day to acknowledge by substantial proofs of gratitude. After somepetty difficulties and vexatious delays, and after putting his dressinto a shape better befitting his rank, though perfectly plain andsimple, he accomplished crossing the country, and found himself inthe desired vehicle, VIS-A-VIS to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of LieutenantNosebag, adjutant and riding-master of the--dragoons, a jolly woman ofabout fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping asilver-mounted horsewhip.
This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon themFAIRE LE FRAIS DE CONVERSATION. She had just returned from the north,and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had cut the petticoat peopleinto ribands at Falkirk, 'only somehow there was one of those nasty,awkward marshes, that they are never without in Scotland, I think, andso our poor dear little regiment suffered something, as my Nosebag says,in that unsatisfactory affair. You, sir, have served in the dragoons?'Waverley was taken so much at unawares, that he acquiesced.
'Oh, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air, and I wassure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my Nosebag calls them.What regiment, pray?' Here was a delightful question. Waverley, however,justly concluded that this good lady had the whole army-list by heart;and, to avoid detection by adhering to truth, answered--'Gardiner'sdragoons, ma'am; but I have retired some time.'
'Oh aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my Nosebagsays. Pray, sir, were you there?'
'I was so unfortunate, madam,' he replied, 'as to witness thatengagement.'
'And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to witness, Ibelieve, sir--ha! ha! ha!--I beg your pardon; but a soldier's wife lovesa joke.'
'Devil confound you!' thought Waverley; 'what infernal luck has pennedme up with this inquisitive bag!'
Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject. 'We arecoming to Ferrybridge, now,' she said, 'where there was a party of OURSleft to support the beadles, and constables, and justices, and thesesort of creatures that are examining papers and stopping rebels, and allthat.' They were hardly in the inn before she dragged Waverley to thewindow, exclaiming, 'Yonder comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poor deartroop; he's coming with the constable man: Bridoon's one of my lambs, asNosebag calls 'em. Come, Mr.--a--a--pray, what 's your name, sir?'
'Butler, ma'am,' said Waverley, resolved rather to make free with thename of a former fellow officer, than run the risk of detection byinventing one not to be found in the regiment.
'Oh, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley, wentover to the rebels. Lord, I wish our old cross Captain Crump would goover to the rebels, that Nosebag might get the troop!--Lord, what canBridoon be standing swinging on the bridge for? I'll be hanged if hea'nt hazy, as Nosebag says.--Come, sir, as you and I belong to theservice, we'll go put the rascal in mind of his duty.'
Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, sawhimself obliged to follow this doughty female commander. The gallanttrooper was as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of dragoons, about sixfeet high, with very broad shoulders, and very thin legs, not to mentiona great scar across his nose, could well be. Mrs. Nosebag addressedhim with something which, if not an oath, sounded very like one, andcommanded him to attend to his duty. 'You be d--d for a--,' commencedthe gallant cavalier; but, looking up in order to suit the action tothe words, and also to enforce the epithet which he meditated, with anadjective applicable to the party, he recognized the speaker, made
hismilitary salaam, and altered his tone.--'Lord love your handsome face,Madam Nosebag, is it you? Why, if a poor fellow does happen to fire aslug of a morning, I am sure you were never the lady to bring him toharm.'
'Well, you rascallion, go, mind your duty; this gentleman and I belongto the service; but be sure you look after that shy cock in the slouchedhat that sits in the corner of the coach. I believe he's one of therebels in disguise.'
'D--n her gooseberry wig!' said the corporal, when she was out ofhearing. 'That gimlet-eyed jade--mother adjutant, as we call her--is agreater plague to the regiment than prevot-marshal, sergeant-major,and old Hubble-de-Shuff the colonel into the bargain.--Come, MasterConstable, let's see if this shy cock, as she calls him' (who, by theway, was a Quaker from Leeds, with whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tartargument on the legality of bearing arms), 'will stand godfather to asup of brandy, for your Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach.'
The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this scrape,was like to have drawn him into one or two others. In every town wherethey stopped, she wished to examine the CORPS DE GARDE, if therewas one, and once very narrowly missed introducing Waverley to arecruiting-sergeant of his own regiment. Then she Captain'd and Butler'dhim till he was almost mad with vexation and anxiety; and never was hemore rejoiced in his life at the termination of a journey, than when thearrival of the coach in London freed him from the attentions of MadamNosebag.
