“I have not even that excuse. Captain Waverley’s character is so open—is, in short, of that nature that it cannot be misconstrued, either in its strength or its weakness.”
“And for that weakness you despise me?” said Edward.
“Forgive me, Mr. Waverley—and remember it is but within this half hour that there existed between us a barrier of a nature to me insurmountable, since I never could think of an officer in the service of the Elector of Hanover in any other light than as a casual acquaintance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so unexpected a topic, and in less than an hour I will be ready to give you such reasons for the resolution I shall express as may be satisfactory at least, if not pleasing to you.” So saying Flora withdrew, leaving Waverley to meditate upon the manner in which she had received his addresses.
Ere he could make up his mind whether to believe his suit had been acceptable or no, Fergus reentered the apartment. “What, à la mort, Waverley?” he cried. “Come down with me to the court, and you shall see a sight worth all the tirades of your romances. An hundred firelocks, my friend, and as many broadswords, just arrived from good friends; and two or three hundred stout fellows almost fighting which shall first possess them. But let me look at you closer. Why, a true Highlander would say you had been blighted by an evil eye. Or can it be this silly girl that has thus blanked your spirit. Never mind her, dear Edward; the wisest of her sex are fools in what regards the business of life.”
“Indeed, my good friend,” answered Waverley, “all that I can charge against your sister is, that she is too sensible, too reasonable.”
“If that be all, I ensure you for a louis-d’or against the mood lasting four-and-twenty hours. No woman was ever steadily sensible for that period; and I will engage, if that will please you, Flora shall be as unreasonable tomorrow as any of her sex. You must learn, my dear Edward, to consider women en mousquetaire.” So saying, he seized Waverley’s arm and dragged him off to review his military preparations.
XXVII
Upon the Same Subject
Fergus MacIvor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the subject which he had interrupted. His head was, or appeared to be, so full of guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose that Waverley could not for some time draw his attention to any other topic.
“Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus,” he asked, “that you are making all these martial preparations?”
“When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all; but otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you.”
“But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces, to rise against an established government? It is mere frenzy.”
“Laissez faire à Don Antoine—I shall take good care of myself. We shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a stroke but he gave one. I would not, however,” continued the Chieftain, “have you think me mad enough to stir till a favourable opportunity: I will not slip my dog before the game’s afoot. But, once more, will you join with us, and you shall know all?”
“How can I?” said Waverley; “I, who have so lately held that commission which is now posting back to those that gave it? My accepting it implied a promise of fidelity, and an acknowledgment of the legality of the government.”
“A rash promise,” answered Fergus, “is not a steel handcuff, it may be shaken off, especially when it was given under deception, and has been repaid by insult. But if you cannot immediately make up your mind to a glorious revenge, go to England, and ere you cross the Tweed you will hear tidings that will make the world ring; and if Sir Everard be the gallant old cavalier I have heard him described by some of our honest gentlemen of the year one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will find you a better horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.”
“But your sister, Fergus?”
“Out, hyperbolical fiend!” replied the Chief, laughing; “how vexest thou this man! Speak’st thou of nothing but of ladies?”
“Nay, be serious, my dear friend,” said Waverley; “I feel that the happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which Miss MacIvor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this morning.”
“And is this your very sober earnest,” said Fergus, more gravely, “or are we in the land of romance and fiction?”
“My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose me jesting on such a subject?”
“Then, in very sober earnest,” answered his friend, “I am very glad to hear it; and so highly do I think of Flora, that you are the only man in England for whom I would say so much. But before you shake my hand so warmly, there is more to be considered. Your own family—will they approve your connecting yourself with the sister of a highborn Highland beggar?”
“My uncle’s situation,” said Waverley, “his general opinions, and his uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and personal qualities are all he would look to in such a connection. And where can I find both united in such excellence as in your sister?”
“Oh, nowhere! cela va sans dire,” replied Fergus, with a smile. “But your father will expect a father’s prerogative in being consulted.”
“Surely; but his late breach with the ruling powers removes all apprehension of objection on his part, especially as I am convinced that my uncle will be warm in my cause.”
“Religion perhaps,” said Fergus, “may make obstacles, though we are not bigotted Catholics.”
“My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her religion was never objected to by my family. Do not think of my friends, dear Fergus; let me rather have
