With this determination he sought out Fergus, and communicated to him the contents of Rose’s letter, with his own resolution instantly to go to Edinburgh, and put into the hands of some one or other of those persons of influence to whom he had letters from his father his exculpation from any charge which might be preferred against him.
“You run your head into the lion’s mouth,” answered MacIvor. “You do not know the severity of a government harassed by just apprehensions, and a consciousness of their own illegality and insecurity. I shall have to deliver you from some dungeon in Stirling or Edinburgh Castle.”
“My innocence, my rank, my father’s intimacy with Lord M⸺, General G⸺, etc., will be a sufficient protection,” said Waverley.
“You will find the contrary,” replied the Chieftain, “these gentlemen will have enough to do about their own matters. Once more, will you take the plaid, and stay a little while with us among the mists and the crows, in the bravest cause ever sword was drawn in?”83
“For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold me excused.”
“Well then,” said MacIvor, “I shall certainly find you exerting your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your antiquarian researches in detecting the Oggam84 character or some Punic hieroglyphic upon the keystones of a vault, curiously arched. Or what say you to un petit pendement bien joli? against which awkward ceremony I don’t warrant you, should you meet a body of the armed West-Country Whigs.”
“And why should they use me so?” said Waverley.
“For a hundred good reasons,” answered Fergus. “First, you are an Englishman; secondly, a gentleman; thirdly, a prelatist abjured; and, fourthly, they have not had an opportunity to exercise their talents on such a subject this long while. But don’t be cast down, beloved; all will be done in the fear of the Lord.”
“Well, I must run my hazard.”
“You are determined, then?”
“I am.”
“Wilful will do’t” said Fergus. “But you cannot go on foot, and I shall want no horse, as I must march on foot at the head of the children of Ivor; you shall have brown Dermid.”
“If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much obliged.”
“If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a gift or loan, I will not refuse money at the entrance of a campaign: his price is twenty guineas. [Remember, reader, it was Sixty Years Since.] And when do you propose to depart?”
“The sooner the better,” answered Waverley.
“You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go you will. I will take Flora’s pony and ride with you as far as Bally-Brough. Callum Beg, see that our horses are ready, with a pony for yourself, to attend and carry Mr. Waverley’s baggage as far as ⸻ (naming a small town), where he can have a horse and guide to Edinburgh. Put on a Lowland dress, Callum, and see you keep your tongue close, if you would not have me cut it out. Mr. Waverley rides Dermid.” Then turning to Edward, “You will take leave of my sister?”
“Surely—that is, if Miss MacIvor will honour me so far.”
“Cathleen, let my sister know Mr. Waverley wishes to bid her farewell before he leaves us. But Rose Bradwardine, her situation must be thought of; I wish she were here. And why should she not? There are but four redcoats at Tully-Veolan, and their muskets would be very useful to us.”
To these broken remarks Edward made no answer; his ear indeed received them, but his soul was intent upon the expected entrance of Flora. The door opened. It was but Cathleen, with her lady’s excuse, and wishes for Captain Waverley’s health and happiness.
XXIX
Waverley’s Reception in the Lowlands After His Highland Tour
It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of the pass of Bally-Brough. “I must go no farther,” said Fergus MacIvor, who during the journey had in vain endeavoured to raise his friend’s spirits. “If my cross-grained sister has any share in your dejection, trust me she thinks highly of you, though her present anxiety about the public cause prevents her listening to any other subject. Confide your interest to me; I will not betray it, providing you do not again assume that vile cockade.”
“No fear of that, considering the manner in which it has been recalled. Adieu, Fergus; do not permit your sister to forget me.”
“And adieu, Waverley; you may soon hear of her with a prouder title. Get home, write letters, and make friends as many and as fast as you can; there will speedily be unexpected guests on the coast of Suffolk, or my news from France has deceived me.”86
Thus parted the friends; Fergus returning back to his castle, while Edward, followed by Callum Beg, the latter transformed from point to point into a Low-Country groom, proceeded to the little town of ⸻.
Edward paced on under the painful and yet not altogether embittered feelings which separation and uncertainty produce in the mind of a youthful lover. I am not sure if the ladies understand the full value of the influence of absence, nor do I think it wise to teach it them, lest, like the Clelias and Mandanes of yore, they should resume the humour of sending their lovers into banishment. Distance, in truth, produces in idea the same effect as in real perspective. Objects are softened, and rounded, and rendered doubly graceful; the harsher and more ordinary points of character are mellowed down, and those by
