both the ladies. All rose as he entered, but Flora immediately re sumed her place, and the conversation in which she was engaged. Rose, on the contrary, almost imperceptibly made a little way in the crowded circle for his advancing the corner of a chair. 'Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging," said Waverley to him self. A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian language was most liquid, and best adapted for poetry; the opinion for the Gaelic, which probably might not have found supporters elsewhere, was here fiercely defended by seven Highland ladies, who talked at the top of their lungs, and screamed the company deaf, with examples of Celtic euphonia. Flora, observing the Lowland ladies sneer at the comparison, produced some reasons to show that it was not altogether so absurd; but Rose, when asked for her opinion, gave it with animation in praise of Italian, which she had studied with Waverley's assistance. She has a more correct ear than Flora, though a less accomplished musician," said Waverley to himself. "I suppose Miss MacIvor will next compare MacMurrough nan Fonn to Ariosto!" Lastly, it so befell that the company differed whether Fergus should be asked to perform on the flute, at which he was an adept, or Waverley invited to read a play of Shakespeare; and the lady of the house good-humoredly undertook to collect the votes of the company for poetry or music, under the condition that the gentleman whose talents were not laid under contribution that evening should contribute them to enliven the next. It chanced that Rose had the casting vote. Now Flora, who seemed to impose it as a rule upon herself never to countenance any proposal which might seem to encourage Waverley, had voted for music, providing the baron would take his violin to accompany Fergus. "I wish you joy of your taste, Miss MacIvor," thought Edward, as they sought for his book. "I thought it better when we were at Glennaquoich; but certainly the baron is no great performer, and Shakespeare is worth listening to." Romeo and Juliet was selected, and Edward read with taste, feeling, and spirit, several scenes from that play. All the company applauded with their hands, and many with their tears. Flora, to whom the drama was well known, was among the former; Rose, to whom it was altogether new, belonged to the latter class of admirers. "She has more feeling too," said Waverley internally. The conversation turning upon the incidents of the play, and upon the characters, Fergus declared that the only one worth naming, as a man of fashion and spirit, was Mercutio. "I could not," he said, "quite follow all his old-fashioned wit, but he must have been a very pretty fellow, according to the idea of his time." Ah, it was a shame," said Ensign Maccombich, who usually followed his colonel everywhere, for that Tibbert, or Taggart, or whatever was his name, to stick him under the other gentleman's arm while he was redding the fray.” 61 The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favor of Romeo, but this opinion did not go undisputed. The mistress of the house, and several other ladies, severaly reprobated the levity with which the hero transfers his affectious from Rosalind to Juliet. Flora re mained silent until her opinion was repeatedly requested, and then answered, she thought the circumstance objected to, not only reconcilable to nature, but such as in the highest degree evinced the art of the poet. "Romeo is described," said she, as a young man, peculiarly susceptible of the softer passions; his love is at first fixed upon a woman who could afford it no return; thus he repeatedly tells you and again "From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed;' 666 She hath forsworn to love." Now, as it was impossible that Romeo's love, supposing him a reasonable being, could continue to subsist without hope, the poet has, with great art, seized the moment when he was reduced actually to despair, to throw in his way an object more accomplished than her by whom he had been rejected, and who is disposed to repay his attachment. I can scarce conceive a situation more calculated to enhance the ardor of Romeo's affection for Juliet, than his being at once raised by her from the state of drooping melancholy in which he appears first upon the scene, to the ecstatic state in which he exclaims 66 6 come what sorrow can, It can not countervail the exchange of joy Good now, Miss MacIvor," said a young lady of quality, "do you mean to cheat us out of our prerogative? will you persuade us love can not subsist without hope, or that the lover must become fickle if the lady is cruel? O fie! I did not expect such an unsentimental conclusion.' "A lover, my dear Lady Betty," said Flora, "may, 1 conceive, persevere in his suit under very discouraging circumstances. Affection can (now and then) withstand very severe storms of rigor, but not a long polar frost of downright indifference. Don't, even with your attractions, try the experiment upon any lover whose faith you value. Love will subsist on wouderfully little hope, but not altogether without it." 66 It will be just like Duncan MacGirdie's mare," said Evan, "if your ladyships please; he wanted to use her by degrees to live without meat, and just as he had put her on a straw a day the poor thing died!" Evan's illustration set the company a-laughing, and the discourse took a different turn. Shortly afterward the party broke up, and Edward returned home, musing on what Flora had said, "I will love my Rosalind no more," said he; "she has given me a broad enough hint for that; and I will speak to her brother, and resign my suit. But for a Juliet-would it be handsome to interfere with Fergus' pretensions?-though it is impossible they can ever succeed; and should they miscarry, what then?-why then alors comme alors." And with this resolution, of being guided by circumstances, did our hero commit himself to repose. CHAPTER LV. A BRAVE MAN IN SORROW. If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero's levity in love is altogether unpardonable, I must remind them that all his griefs and difficulties did not arise from that sentimental source. Even the lyric poet, who complains so feelingly of the pains of love, could not forget, that, at the same time, he was "in debt and in drink," which, doubtless, were great aggravations of his distress. There were indeed whole days in which Waverley thought neither of Flora nor Rose Bradwardine, but which were spent in melancholy conjectures on the probable state of matters at Waverley Honor, and the dubious issue of the civil contest in which he was pledged. Colonel Talbot often engaged him in discussions upon the justice of the cause he had espoused. "Not," he said, that it is possible for you to quit it at this present moment, for, come what will, you must stand by your rash engagement. But I wish you to be aware that the right is not with you; that you are fighting against the real interests of your country; and that you ought, as an Englishman and a patriot, to take the first opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition before the snow-ball melts." In such political disputes Waverley usually opposed the common arguments of his party, with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader. But he had little to say when the colonel urged him to compare the strength by which they had undertaken to overthrow the Government, with that which was now assembling very rapidly for its support. To this statement Waverley had but one answer: "If the cause 1 have undertaken be perilous, there would be the greater disgrace in abandoning it." And in his turn he generally silenced Colonel Talbot, and succeeded in changing the subject. One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends had separated, and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened about midnight by a suppressed groan. He started up and listened; it came from the apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided from his own by a wainscoted partition, with a door of communication. Waverley approached this door, and distinctly heard one or two deep-drawn sighs. What could be the matter? The colonel had parted from him, appparently, in his usual state of spirits. must have been taken suddenly ill. Under this impression, he opened the door of communication very gently, and perceived the colonel, in his night-gown, seated by a table, on which lay a letter and a picture. He raised his head hastily, as Edward stood uncertain whether to advance or retire, and Waverley perceived that his cheeks were stained with tears. He As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, Colonel Talbot rose with apparent displeasure, and with some sternness, '1 think, Mr. Waverley, my own apartment, and the hour, might have secured even a prisoner against-" 66 Do not say intrusion, Colonel Talbot; I heard you breathe hard and feared you were ill; that alone could have induced me to break in upon you. "I am well," said the colonel, "perfectly well." 'But you are distressed," said Edward; "is there anything can be done?" 'Nothing, Mr. Waverley; I was only thinking of home, and of some unpleasant occurrences there.' 46 Good God, my uncle!" exclaimed Waverley. 'No-it is a grief entirely my own. I am ashamed you should have seen it disarm me so much; but it must have its course at times that it may be at others more decently supported. I would have kept it secret from you, for I think it will grieve you, and yet you can administer no consolation. But you have surprised me, I see you are surprised yourself, and I hate mystery. Read that letter.' The letter was from Colonel Talbot's sister, and in these words. "I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges. Sir E. W. and Mr. R. are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London. 1 wish to heaven I could give you as good an account of matters in the square. But the news of the unhappy affair at Preston came upon us, with the dreadful addition that you were among the fallen. You know Lady Emily's state of health, when your friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave her. She was much harassed with the sad accounts from Scotland of the rebellion having broken out, but kept up her spirits, as, she said, it became your wife, and for the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in vain. Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now ended! Notwithstanding all my watchful care, this unhappy rumor reached her without preparation. She was taken ill immediately; and the poor infant scarce survived its birth. Would to God this were all! But although the contradiction of the horrible report by your own letter has greatly revived her spirits, yet Dr. apprehends, I grieve to say, serious, and even dangerous, consequences to her health, especially from the uncertainty in which she must necessarily remain for some time, aggravated by the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of those with whom you are a prisoner. 'Do, therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you, endeavor to gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way that is practicable. I do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of health; but 1 must not-dare not-suppress the truth. Ever, my dear Philip, your most affectionate sister, "LUCY TALBOT.” Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter; for the conclusion was inevitable, that by the colonel's journey in quest of him, he had incurred this heavy calamity. It was severe enough, even in its irremediable part; for Colonel Talbot and Lady Emily, long without a family, had fondly exulted in the hopes which were now blasted. But this disappointment was nothing to the extent of the threatened evil: and Edward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both. Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak, Colonel Talbot mad recovered his usual composure of manner, though his troubled eye denoted his mental agony. "She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a soldier's tears." He reached him the miniature, exhibiting features which fully justified the eulogium; "and yet, God knows, what you see of her there is the least of the charms she possesses-possessed, I should perhaps say. But God's will be done!" “You must fly-you must fly instantly to her relief. It is not— it shall not be too late." Fly! how is it possible? I am a prisoner-upon parole." "I am your keeper-1 restore your parole-I am to answer for you." You can not do so consistently with your duty; nor can I accept a discharge from you with due regard to my own honor-you would be made responsible.” "I will answer it with my head, it necessary," said Waverley, impetuously. "I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your child-make me not the murderer of your wife." 66 66 No, my dear Edward," said Talbot, taking him kindly by the hand, you are in no respect to blame; and if I concealed this domestic distress for two days, it was lest your sensibility should view it in that light. You could not think of me, hardly knew of my existence, when I left England in quest of you. It is a responsibility, Heaven knows, sufficiently heavy for mortality, that we must answer for the foreseen and direct result of our actions-for their indirect and consequential operation, the great and good Being, who alone can foresee the dependence of human events on each other, hath not pronounced His frail creatures liable. "But that you should have left Lady Emily," said Waverley, with much emotion, in the situation of all others the most interesting to a husband, to seek a—” I only did my duty," answered Colonel Talbot, calmly," and I do not, ought not, to regret it. If the path of gratitude and honor were always smooth and easy, there would be little merit in following it, but it moves often in contradiction to our interest and passions, and sometimes to our better affections. These are the trials of life, and this, though not the least bitter" (the tears came unbidden to his eyes)," is not the first which it has been my fate to encounter. But we will talk of this to-morrow," he said, wringing Waverley's hands. Good-night; strive to forget it for a few hours. It will dawn, I think, by six, and it is now past two. Good-night. Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply. 66 CHAPTER LVI. EXERTION. WHEN Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlor next morning, he learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had been abroad at an early hour, and was not yet returned. The morning was well advanced before he again appeared. He arrived out of breath, but with an air of joy that astonished Colonel Talbot. 66 'There," said he, throwing a paper on the table, "there is my |