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of fortune, and in the rank to which she was born, would you object to it, my dear. Baron, because it would make one of your friends the happiest man in the world?" The Baron turned, and looked at him with great earnestness. “ Yes,” continued Edward, " I shall not consider my sentence of banishment as repealed, unless you will give me permission to accompany you lo the Duchran, and"
The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to ipake a suitable reply to what, at another time, he would have treated as the propounding a treaty of alliance between the houses of Bradwardine and Waverley. But his efforts were in vain; the father was too mighty for the Baron ; the pride of birth and rank were swept away ;-in the joyful surprise, a slight convulsion passed rapidly over his features as he gave way to the feelings of nature, threw his arms around Waverley's neck, and sobbed out,-“ My son, my son! if I had been to search the world, I would have made my choice here.” Edward returned the embrace with great sympathy of feeling, and for a litlle while they both kept silence. At length it was broken by Edward. " But Miss Bradwardine ?"
" She had never a will but her old father's; besides, you are a likely youth, of honest principles, and high birth; Do, she never had any other will than mine, and in my proudest days I could not have wished a mair eligible espousal for her than the nephew of my excellent old friend, Sir Everard.-But I hope, young man, ye deal na rashly in this matter? I hope ye hae secured the approbation of your ain friends and allies, particularly of your uncle, who is in loco parentis ? Ah! we maun tak heed o’that." Edward assured him that Sir Everard would think himself highly honoured in the flattering reception his proposal had met with, and that it had his entire approbation; in evidence of which, he put Colonel Talbot's letter into the Baron's hand. The Baron read it with great attention. “ Sir Everard,” he said, “ always despised wealth in comparison of honour and birth; and indeed he hath no occasion to court the Diva Pecunia. Yet I now wish, since this Malcom turns out such a parricide, for I can call him no belter, as to think of alienating the family inheritance-I now wish (his eyes fixed on a part of the roof which was visible above the trees) that I could have left Rose the auld hurley-house, and the riggs belonging to it.-And yet," said he, resuming more cheerfully, “it's may be as weel as it is ; for, as Baron of Bradwardine, I might have thought it my duty to insist upon certain compliances respecting name and bearings, whilk now, as a landless laird wi'a tocherless daughter, no one can blame me for departing from.”
Now, Heaven be praised! thought Edward, that Sir Everard does not hear these scruples! The three ermines passant and rampant bear would certainly have gone together by the ears. - He then,
with all the ardour of a young lover, assured the Baron, that he sought for his happiness only in Rose's heart and hand, and thought himself as happy in her father's simple approbation, as if he had sellled an earldom upon his daughter.
They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was smoking on the table, and the Bailie brandished his knife and fork. A joyous greeting took place between him and his patron. The kitchen, too, had ils company. Auld Janet was established at the ingle-nook; Davie had turned the spit to his immortal honour ; and even Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of Macwheeble's joy, had been stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay snoring on the floor.
The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the Duchran, where the former was expected, in consequence of the nearly unanimous application of the Scottish friends of government in his favour. This had been so general and so powerful, that it was almost thought his eslale might have been saved, had it not passed into the rapacious hands of his unworthy kinsman, whose right, arising out of the Baron's attainder, could not be affected by a pardon from the crown. The old gentleman, however, said, with his usual spirit, he was more gratified by the hold he possessed in the good opinion of his neighbours, than he would have been in being
rehabilitated and restored in integrum, had it been found practicable.”
We shall not attempt to describe the meeling of the father and daughter,-loving each other so affectionately, and separated under such perilous circumstances. Still less shall we attempt to analyze the deep blush of Rose, at receiving the compliments of Waverley, or stop to inquire whether she had any curiosity respecting the particular cause of his journey to Scotland at that period. We shall not even trouble the reader with the humdrum details of a courtship Sixty Years since. It is enough to say, that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all things were conducled in due form. He took upon himself, the morning after their arrival, the task of announcing the proposal of Waverley to Rose, which she heard with a proper degree of maiden timidity. Fame does, however, say, that Waverley had, the evening before, found five minutes to apprize her of what was coming, while the rest of the company were looking at three twisted serpents, which formed a jet d'eau in the garden.
My fair readers will judge for themselves; but, for my part, I cannot conceive how so important an affair could be communicated in so short a space of lime ; at least, it certainly took a full hour in the Baron's mode of conveying it.
Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms. He was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the lady of the house, to sit next Miss Bradwardine at
dinner, lo be Miss Bradwardine's partner at cards. If he came into the room, she of the four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose, was sure to recollect that her thimble, or her scissors, were at the other end of the room, in order to leave the seat nearest to Miss Bradwardine vacant for his occupation. And sometimes, if papa and mamma were not in the way to keep them on their good behaviour, the misses would tilter a little. The old Laird of Duchran would also have his occasional jest, and the old lady her remark. Even the Baron could not refrain ; but here Rose escaped every embarrassment but that of conjecture, for his wil was usually couched in a Latin quotation. The very footmen sometimes grinned too broadly, the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud, and a provoking air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole family. Alice Bean, the pretty maid of the cavern, who, after her father's misfortune, as she called it, had attended Rose as fille-de-chambre, smiled and smirked with the best of them. Rose and Edward, however, endured all these little vexatious circumstances as other folks have done before and since, and probably contrived to obtain some indemnification, since they are not supposed, on the whole, to have been particularly unhappy during Waverley's six days' stay at the Duchran.
It was finally arranged that Edward should go to WaverleyHonour to make the necessary arrangements for his marriage, thence to London to take the proper measures for pleading his pardon, and return as soon as possible to claim the hand of his plighted bride. He also intended in his journey to visit Colonel Talbot , but, above all, it was his most important object to learn the fate of the unfortunate Chief of Glenpaquoich; to visit him al Carlisle, and to try whether any thing could be done for procuring, if not a pardon, à commutation at least, or alleviation, of the punishment lo which he was almost certain of being condemned ; and, in case of the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an asylum with Rose, or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which might seem possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard to be averted. Edward had already striven to interest his friend, Colonel Talbot, in his behalf; but had been given distinctly to understand, by his reply, that his credit in matters of thal nature was totally exhausted.
The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there for some months upon business confided to him by the Duke of Cumberland. He was to be joined by lady Emily, to whom easy travelling and goat's whey were recommended, and who was to journey northward, under the escort of Francis Stanley. Edward, therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who wished him joy in The kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and cheerfully undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily
obliged to delegate to his charge. But on the subject of Fergus he was inexorable. He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference would be unavailing; but, besides, Colonel Talbot owned that he could not conscientiously use any influence in favour of that unfortunale gentleman. “Justice,” he said, “which demanded some penalty of those who had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in mourning, could not perhaps have selected a filter victim. He came to the field with the fullest light upon the nature of his attempt. He had studied and understood the subject. His father's fale could not intimidate him; the lenity of the laws, which had restored to him his father's property and rights, could not melt him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed many good qualities, only rendered him the more dangerous; that he was enlightened and accomplished, made his crime the less excusable; that he was an enthusiast in a wrong cause, only made him the more fit to be its martyr. Above all, he had been the means of bringing many hundreds of men inlo the field, who, without him, would never have broken the peace of the country.
“I repeat it," said the Colonel, “ though Heaven knows with a heart distressed for him as an individual, that this young gentleman has studied and fully understood the desperate game which he has played. He threw for life or death, a coronet or a coffin; and he cannot now be permitted, with justice to the country, to draw stakes, because the dice have gone against him."
Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and humane men towards a vanquished enemy. Let us devoutly hope, that, in this respect at least, we shall never see the scenes, or hold the sentiments, that were general in Britain Sixty Years since.
To-morrow? O that's sudden !-Spare him, spare bim
EDWARD, attended by his former servant, Alick Polwarth, who had re-entered his service at Edinburgh, reached Carlisle while the commission of Oyer and Terminer on his unfortunate associates was yet sitting. He had pushed forward in haste, not, alas! with the most distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the last time. I ought to have mentioned, that he had furnished funds for the desence of the prisoners in the most liberal manner, as soon as he heard that the day of trial was fixed. A solicitor, and the first counsel, accordingly attended ; but it was upon the same fooling on
which the first physicians are usually summoned to the bedside of some dying man of rank; the doctors lo take the advantage of some incalculable chance of an exerlion of nature—the lawyers to avail themselves of the barely possible occurrence of some legal flaw. Edward pressed into the court, which was extremely crowded; but by his arriving from the north, and his extreme eagerness and agitation, it was supposed he was a relation of the prisoners, and people made way for him. It was the third sitting of the court, and there were two men at the bar. The verdict of GUILTY was already pronounced. Edward just glanced at the bar during the momentous pause which ensued. There was no mistaking the stately form and noble features of Fergus Mac-Ivor, although his dress was squalid, and his countenance linged with the sickly yellow hue of long and close imprisonment. By his side was Evan Maccombich. Edward felt sick and dizzy as he gazed on them; but he was recalled to himself as the Clerk of Arraigns pronounced the solemn words : “Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, otherwise called Vich Ian Vohr, and Evan Mac-Ivor, in the Dhu of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan Dhu, otherwise called Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich-you, and each of you, stand attainted of high treason. What have you to say for yourselves why the Court should not pronounce judgment against you, that you die according to law?”
Fergus, as the presiding Judge was putting on the falal cap of judgment, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with a steadfast and stern look, and replied in a firm voice, “ I cannot let this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal I have no answer to make. But what I have to say, you would not bear to hear, for my defence would be your condemnation. Proceed, then, in the name of God, to do what is permitted to you. Yesterday, and the day before, you have condemned loyal and honourable blood to be poured forth like water. Spare not mine. Were that of all my. ancestors in my veins, I would have peril'd it in this quarrel." He resumed his seat, and refused again to rise.
Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and, rising up, seemed anxious to speak ; but the confusion of the court, and the perplexity arising from thinking in a language different from that in which he was to express himself, kept him silent. There was a murmur of compassion among the spectators, from the idea that the poor fellow intended to plead the influence of his superior as an excuse for his crime. The judge commanded silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed.
“I was only ganging to say, my lord,” said Eyan, in what he meant to be an insinuating manner,
" that if your excellent honour, and the honourable Court, would let Vich Ian Vohr go free just this once, and let him gae back to France, and no to trouble King George's government again, that ony six o' The very best of his clan