by Walter Scott
CHAPTER LXII
WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT?
It was twilight when they arrived in town; and having shaken offhis companions, 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, sat 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 reception,in 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 your stayinglong.'
'Some particular business brought me up,' muttered Waverley.
'I supposed so, but I sha'n't allow you to stay long.--Spontoon' (toan elderly 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 thanacknowledgements can ever pity, 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 harshto say 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 negotiation forhimself, and make his peace with Government through some channels whichformer 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 purporthere quoted, 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 footboy you saw dead in CliftonMoor?'
'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 on all the seaports, and a strict searchfor the adherents of the Pretender; and the tongue of that confoundedwoman will wag in her head like the clack of a mill, till somehow orother she will detect Captain Butler to be a feigned personage,'
'Do you know anything,' asked Waverley, 'of my fellow traveller?'
'Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years; she was a buxom widow,with a little money--he married her--was steady, and got on by being agood drill. I must send Spontoon to see what she is about; he willfind her out among the old regimental connexions. To-morrow you must beindisposed, and keep your room from fatigue. Lady Emily is to be yournurse, and Spontoon and I your attendants. You bear the name of anear relation of mine, whom none of my present people ever saw, exceptSpontoon; so there will be no immediate danger. So pray feel your headache and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may be putupon the sick list; and, Emily, do you order an apartment for FrankStanley, with all the attention which an invalid may require.'
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 witha very zealous friend of yours, your Scottish parson, Morton; his firstletter was addressed to Sir Everard; but I relieved the good Baronetof the trouble of answering it. You must know, that your freebootingacquaintance; Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the hands ofthe Philistines. He was driving off the cattle of a certain proprietor,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, and wasdefeated and made prisoner. Being ordered for execution, his consciencewas assailed on the one hand by a Catholic priest,--on the other byyour friend Morton. He repulsed the Catholic chiefly on account of thedoctrine of extreme unction, which this economical gentleman consideredas an excessive waste of oil. So his conversion from a state ofimpenitence fell to Mr. Morton's share, who, I dare say, acquittedhimself excellently, though, I suppose, Donald made but a queer kindof Christian after all. He confessed, however, before a magistrate--oneMajor Melville, who seems to have been a correct, friendly sort ofperson--his full intrigue with Houghton, explaining particularly how itwas carried on, and fully acquitting you of the least accession toit. He also mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the volunteerofficer, and sending you, by orders of the Pret--Chevalier, I mean as aprisoner to Doune, from whence he understood you were carried prisonerto Edinburgh. These are particulars which cannot but tell in yourfavour. He hinted that he had been employed to deliver and protect you,and rewarded for doing so; but he would not confess by whom, alleging,that, though he would not have minded breaking any ordinary oath tosatisfy the curiosity of Mr. Morton, to whose pious admonitions he owedso much, yet in the present case he had been sworn to silence upon theedge of his dirk, [See Note 33.] which, it seems, constituted, in hisopinion, an inviolable obligation.'
'And what has 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; andyet he has done me both good and harm to a very considerable extent.'
His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it wipes fromyour character all those suspicions which gave the accusation againstyou a complexion of a nature different from that with which so manyunfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in arms against the Government, maybe justly charged. Their treason--I must give it its name, though youparticipate in its guilt--is an action arising from mistaken virtue, andtherefore cannot be classed as a disgrace, tho
ugh it be doubtless highlycriminal. Where the guilty are so numerous, clemency must be extended tofar the greater number; and I have little doubt of procuring a remissionfor you, provided we can keep you out of the claws of justice tillshe has selected and gorged upon her victims; for in this, as in othercases, it will be according to the vulgar proverb, 'First come, firstserved.' Besides, Government are desirous at present to intimidate theEnglish Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for punishment.This is a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon wear off, for, ofall nations, the English are least bloodthirsty by nature. But itexists at present, and you must therefore be kept out of the way in themeantime.'
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, contrivedto make her delay her intention. No time, however, was to be lost: theaccuracy of this good dame's description might probably lead tothe discovery that Waverley was the pretended Captain Butler; anidentification fraught with danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle,and even 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, Icould not rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone to makea winter campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents as I am wouldrather be burdensome than useful. Indeed, it seems likely that they onlyprolong the war to place the Chevalier's person out of danger, and thento make some terms for themselves. To burden them with my presence wouldmerely add another party, whom they would not give up, and could notdefend. I understand they left almost all their English adherents ingarrison at Carlisle, for that very reason: and on a more general view,Colonel, to confess the truth, though it may lower me in your opinion,I am heartily tired of the trade of war, and am, as Fletcher's HumorousLieutenant 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 the fieldon 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, couched under thewintry sky, and such accompaniments of the glorious trade, are notat all 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 asto the daughter, though I think you might find as fitting a match inEngland, yet if your heart be really set upon this Scotch rosebud, why,the 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?No relenting longings towards the land of mountains and floods, I amafraid.'
'None, on my word; but Emily's health is now, thank God, re-established,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 I havedeserved some love at his hands." I am now going out for an hour or twoto arrange matters for your departure; your liberty extends to thenext room, Lady Emily's parlour, where you will find her when you aredisposed for music, reading, or conversation. We have taken measures toexclude 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 presenceof Spontoon, 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 further progress northward. 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 you areworth above L15,000, besides Brerewood Lodge--a very independent person,I promise you. There are bills here for L200; any larger sum you mayhave, or credit abroad, as soon as your motions require it.'
The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly-acquired wealth,was to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his acceptance of asilver tankard on the part of his friend Williams, who had not forgottenthe night of the eighteenth December last. He begged him at the sametime carefully to preserve for him his Highland garb and accoutrements,particularly the arms--curious in themselves, and to which thefriendship of the donors gave additional value. Lady Emily undertook tofind some suitable token of remembrance, likely to flatter the vanityand please the taste of Mrs. Williams; and the Colonel, who was a kindof farmer, promised to send the Ullswater patriarch an excellent team ofhorses for cart and plough.
One happy day Waverley spent in London; and, travelling in the mannerprojected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntin
gdon. The two young menwere acquainted 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 rattlepated 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 Edwardwas obliged 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.
