in finding a man, whose honour has been publicly and unjustly assailed, in the situation which promised most fair to afford him satisfaction on his calumniators."

"I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the reports which they have circulated,” said Colonel Talbot, "by following the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware, Mr. Waverley, of the infinite distress, and even danger, which your present conduct has occasioned to your nearest relatives?"

"Danger!"

"Yes, sir, danger. When I left England, your uncle and father had been obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to which they were only admitted by the exertion of the most powerful interest. I came down to Scotland with the sole purpose of rescuing you from the gulf into which you have precipitated yourself; nor can I estimate the consequences to your family of your having openly joined the rebellion, since the very suspicion of your intention was so perilous to them. Most deeply do I regret that I did not meet you before this last and fatal error.'

"I am really ignorant," said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, "why Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account."

"Mr. Waverley," answered Talbot, "I am dull at apprehending irony, and therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain meaning. I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a son; and as I know there is no manner in which I can requite his kindness so well as by serving you, I will serve you, if possible,

The personal

whether you will permit me or no.
obligation which you have this day laid me under
(although, in common estimation, as great as one
human being can bestow on another), adds nothing
to my zeal on your behalf, nor can that zeal be
abated by any coolness with which you may please
to receive it."

"Your intentions may be kind, sir," said Waverley, drily, "but your language is harsh, or at least peremptory."

"On my return to England," continued Colonel Talbot, "after long absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody of a king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon him by your conduct. He is my oldest friend, how often shall I repeat it!-my best benefactor! he sacrificed his own views of happiness to mine; he never uttered a word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence itself might not have thought or spoken. I found this man in confinement, rendered harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural dignity of feeling, and — forgive me, Mr. Waverley-by the cause through which this calamity had come upon him. I cannot disguise from you my feelings upon this occasion; they were most painfully unfavourable to you. Having by my family interest, which you probably know is not inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard's release, I set out for Scotland. I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is suffi cient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. In the course of conversation with him, I found that, from late circumstances, from a re-examination of the persons engaged in the mutiny, and from his original good opinion of your character, he

1

was much softened towards you; and I doubted not that if I could be so fortunate as to discover you, all might yet be well. But this unnatural rebellion has ruined all. I have for the first time, in a long and active military life, seen Britons disgrace themselves by a panic flight, and that before a foe without either arms or discipline. And now I find the heir of my dearest friend - the son, I may say, of his affections-sharing a triumph for which he ought the first to have blushed. Why should I lament Gardiner ? his lot was happy compared to mine!"

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir Everard's imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that Edward stood mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence of the prisoner who owed to him his life not many hours before. He was not sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a second time.

"His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley's attendance." Colonel Talbot threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not escape the quick eye of the Highland chief. 'His immediate attendance," he repeated, with considerable emphasis. Waverley turned again towards the colonel.

"We shall meet again," he said; "in the meanwhile, every possible accommodation -"

"I desire none," said the colonel; "let me fare like the meanest of those brave men who, on this day of calamity, have preferred wounds and captivity to flight. I would almost exchange places with one of those who have fallen, to know that my words have made a suitable impression on your mind."

'Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured," said Fergus to the Highland officer who commanded the guard over the prisoners; "it is the prince's particular command; he is a prisoner of the utmost importance."

"But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank," said Waverley.

"Consistent always with secure custody," reiterated Fergus.

The officer signified his acquiescence in both commands, and Edward followed Fergus to the gardengate, where Callum Beg, with three saddle-horses, awaited them. Turning his head, he saw Colonel Talbot re-conducted to his place of confinement by a file of Highlanders; he lingered on the threshold of the door, and made a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if enforcing the language he had held towards him.

"Horses," said Fergus, as he mounted, "are now as plenty as blackberries; every man may have them for the catching. Come, let Callum adjust your stirrups, and let us to Pinkie House1 as fast as these ci-devant dragoon-horses choose to carry us."

1 Charles Edward took up his quarters after the battle at Pinkie House, adjoining to Musselburgh.

CHAPTER XXI.

RATHER UNIMPORTANT.

"I WAS turned back," said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped from Preston to Pinkie House, “by a message from the prince. But I suppose you

know the value of this most noble Colonel Talbot as a prisoner? He is held one of the best officers among the red-coats, a special friend and favourite of the Elector himself, and of that dreadful hero, the Duke of Cumberland, who has been summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy to come over and devour us poor Highlanders alive. Has he been telling you how the bells of St. James's ring? Not 'turn again, Whittington,' like those of Bow, in the days of yore?"

"Fergus!" said Waverley, with a reproachful

look.

"Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you," answered the chief of Mac-Ivor; "you are blown about with every wind of doctrine. Here have we gained a victory unparalleled in history, and your behaviour is praised by every living mortal to the skies, and the prince is eager to thank you in person, and all our beauties of the White Rose are pulling caps for you, and you, the preux chevalier of the day, are stooping on your horse's neck like a butter-woman riding to market, and looking as black as a funeral!”