“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 hers ain at the cumadh an truais” (shape of the trews).
“Get a plaid of MacIvor 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 MacIvor, 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
