MORE EXPLANATION
With the first dawn of day, old Janet was scuttling about the house to
wake the Baron, who usually slept sound and heavily.
“I must go back,” he said to Waverley, “to my cove; will you walk down
the glen wi’ me?” They went out together, and followed a narrow and
entangled foot-path, which the occasional passage of anglers or
wood-cutters had traced by the side of the stream. On their way the
Baron explained to Waverley that he would be under no danger in
remaining a day or two at Tully-Veolan, and even in being seen walking
about, if he used the precaution of pretending that he was looking at
the estate as agent or surveyor for an English gentleman who designed
to be purchaser. With this view he recommended to him to visit the
Bailie, who still lived at the factor’s house, called Little Veolan,
about a mile from the village, though he was to remove at next term.
Stanley’s passport would be an answer to the officer who commanded the
military; and as to any of the country people who might recognise
Waverley, the Baron assured him he was in no danger of being betrayed
by them.
“I believe,” said the old man, “half the people of the barony know that
their poor auld laird is somewhere hereabout; for I see they do not
suffer a single bairn to come here a bird-nesting; a practice whilk,
when I was in full possession of my power as baron, I was unable
totally to inhibit. Nay, I often find bits of things in my way, that
the poor bodies, God help them! leave there, because they think they
may be useful to me. I hope they will get a wiser master, and as kind a
one as I was.”
A natural sigh closed the sentence; but the quiet equanimity with which
the Baron endured his misfortunes had something in it venerable and
even sublime. There was no fruitless repining, no turbid melancholy; he
bore his lot, and the hardships which it involved, with a good-humored,
though serious composure, and used no violent language against the
prevailing party.
“I did what I thought my duty,” said the good old man, “and
questionless they are doing what they think theirs. It grieves me
sometimes to look upon these blackened walls of the house of my
ancestors; but doubtless officers cannot always keep the soldier’s hand
from depredation and spuilzie, and Gustavus Adolphus himself, as ye may
read in Colonel Munro his “Expedition with the Worthy Scotch Regiment
called Mackay’s Regiment” did often permit it. Indeed I have myself
seen as sad sights as Tully-Veolan now is when I served with the
Maréchal Duke of Berwick. To be sure we may say with Virgilius Maro,
‘Fuimus Troes’—and there’s the end of an auld sang. But houses and
families and men have a’ stood lang eneugh when they have stood till
they fall with honour; and now I hae gotten a house that is not unlike
a _domus ultima_”—they were now standing below a steep rock. “We poor
Jacobites,” continued the Baron, looking up, “are now like the conies
in Holy Scripture (which the great traveller Pococke calleth Jerboa), a
feeble people, that make our abode in the rocks. So, fare you well, my
good lad, till we meet at Janet’s in the even; for I must get into my
Patmos, which is no easy matter for my auld stiff limbs.”
With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with the help of his
hands, from one precarious footstep to another, till he got about
half-way up, where two or three bushes concealed the mouth of a hole,
resembling an oven, into which the Baron insinuated, first his head and
shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the rest of his long body; his
legs and feet finally disappearing, coiled up like a huge snake
entering his retreat, or a long pedigree introduced with care and
difficulty into the narrow pigeon-hole of an old cabinet. Waverley had
the curiosity to clamber up and look in upon him in his den, as the
lurking-place might well be termed. Upon the whole, he looked not
unlike that ingenious puzzle called “a reel in a bottle,” the marvel of
children (and of some grown people too, myself for one), who can
neither comprehend the mystery how it has got in or how it is to be
taken out. The cave was very narrow, too low in the roof to admit of
his standing, or almost of his sitting up, though he made some awkward
attempts at the latter posture. His sole amusement was the perusal of
his old friend Titus Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin
proverbs and texts of Scripture with his knife on the roof and walls of
his fortalice, which were of sandstone. As the cave was dry, and filled
with clean straw and withered fern, “it made,” as he said, coiling
himself up with an air of snugness and comfort which contrasted
strangely with his situation, “unless when the wind was due north, a
very passable _gîte_ for an old soldier.” Neither, as he observed, was
he without sentries for the purpose of reconnoitring. Davie and his
mother were constantly on the watch to discover and avert danger; and
it was singular what instances of address seemed dictated by the
instinctive attachment of the poor simpleton when his patron’s safety
was concerned.
With Janet, Edward now sought an interview. He had recognised her at
first sight as the old woman who had nursed him during his sickness
after his delivery from Gifted Gilfillan. The hut also, although a
little repaired and somewhat better furnished, was certainly the place
of his confinement; and he now recollected on the common moor of
Tully-Veolan the trunk of a large decayed tree, called the trysting-tree,
which he had no doubt was the same at which the Highlanders
rendezvoused on that memorable night. All this he had combined in his
imagination the night before; but reasons which may probably occur to
the reader prevented him from catechising Janet in the presence of the
Baron.
He now commenced the task in good earnest; and the first question was,
Who was the young lady that visited the hut during his illness? Janet
paused for a little; and then observed, that to keep the secret now
would neither do good nor ill to anybody.
“It was just a leddy that hasna her equal in the world—Miss Rose
Bradwardine!”
“Then Miss Rose was probably also the author of my deliverance,”
inferred Waverley, delighted at the confirmation of an idea which local
circumstances had already induced him to entertain.
“I wot weel, Mr. Wauverley, and that was she e’en; but sair, sair angry
and affronted wad she hae been, puir thing, if she had thought ye had
been ever to ken a word about the matter; for she gar’d me speak aye
Gaelic when ye was in hearing, to mak ye trow we were in the Hielands.
I can speak it weil eneugh, for my mother was a Hieland woman.”
A few more questions now brought out the whole mystery respecting
Waverley’s deliverance from the bondage in which he left Cairnvreckan.
Never did music sound sweeter to an amateur than the drowsy tautology
with which old Janet detailed every circumstance thrilled upon the ears
of Waverley. But my reader is not a lover and I must spare his
patience, by attempting to condense within reasonable compass the
narrative which old Janet spread through a harangue of nearly two
hours.
When Waverley communicated to Fergus the letter he had received from
Rose Bradwardine by Davie Gellatley, giving an account of Tully-Veolan
being occupied by a small party of soldiers, that circumstance had
struck upon the busy and active mind of the Chieftain. Eager to
distress and narrow the posts of the enemy, desirous to prevent their
establishing a garrison so near him, and willing also to oblige the
Baron—for he often had the idea of marriage with Rose floating through
his brain—he resolved to send some of his people to drive out the
red-coats and to bring Rose to Glennaquoich. But just as he had ordered
Evan with a small party on this duty, the news of Cope’s having marched
into the Highlands, to meet and disperse the forces of the Chevalier
ere they came to a head, obliged him to join the standard with his
whole forces.
He sent to order Donald Bean to attend him; but that cautious
freebooter, who well understood the value of a separate command,
instead of joining, sent various apologies which the pressure of the
times compelled Fergus to admit as current, though not without the
internal resolution of being revenged on him for his procrastination,
time and place convenient. However, as he could not amend the matter,
he issued orders to Donald to descend into the Low Country, drive the
soldiers from Tully-Veolan, and, paying all respect to the mansion of
the Baron, to take his abode somewhere near it, for protection of his
daughter and family, and to harass and drive away any of the armed
volunteers or small parties of military which he might find moving
about the vicinity. As this charge formed a sort of roving commission,
which Donald proposed to interpret in the way most advantageous to
himself, as he was relieved from the immediate terrors of Fergus, and
as he had, from former secret services, some interest in the councils
of the Chevalier, he resolved to make hay while the sun shone. He
achieved without difficulty the task of driving the soldiers from
Tully-Veolan; but, although he did not venture to encroach upon the
interior of the family, or to disturb Miss Rose, being unwilling to
make himself a powerful enemy in the Chevalier’s army,
For well he knew the Baron’s wrath was deadly;
yet he set about to raise contributions and exactions upon the
tenantry, and otherwise to turn the war to his own advantage. Meanwhile
he mounted the white cockade, and waited upon Rose with a pretext of
great devotion for the service in which her father was engaged, and
many apologies for the freedom he must necessarily use for the support
of his people. It was at this moment that Rose learned, by open-mouthed
fame, with all sorts of exaggeration, that Waverley had killed the
smith at Cairnvreckan, in an attempt to arrest him; had been cast into
a dungeon by Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, and was to be executed by
martial law within three days. In the agony which these tidings excited
she proposed to Donald Bean the rescue of the prisoner. It was the very
sort of service which he was desirous to undertake, judging it might
constitute a merit of such a nature as would make amends for any
peccadilloes which he might be guilty of in the country. He had the
art, however, pleading all the while duty and discipline, to hold off,
until poor Rose, in the extremity of her distress, offered to bribe him
to the enterprise with some valuable jewels which had been her
mother’s.
Donald Bean, who had served in France, knew, and perhaps
over-estimated, the value of these trinkets. But he also perceived
Rose’s apprehensions of its being discovered that she had parted with
her jewels for Waverley’s liberation. Resolved this scruple should not
part him and the treasure, he voluntarily offered to take an oath that
he would never mention Miss Rose’s share in the transaction; and,
foreseeing convenience in keeping the oath and no probable advantage in
breaking it, he took the engagement—in order, as he told his
lieutenant, to deal handsomely by the young lady—in the only mode and
form which, by a mental paction with himself, he considered as binding:
he swore secrecy upon his drawn dirk. He was the more especially moved
to this act of good faith by some attentions that Miss Bradwardine
showed to his daughter Alice, which, while they gained the heart of the
mountain damsel, highly gratified the pride of her father. Alice, who
could now speak a little English, was very communicative in return for
Rose’s kindness, readily confided to her the whole papers respecting
the intrigue with Gardiner’s regiment, of which she was the depositary,
and as readily undertook, at her instance, to restore them to Waverley
without her father’s knowledge. For “they may oblige the bonnie young
lady and the handsome young gentleman,” said Alice, “and what use has
my father for a whin bits o’ scarted paper?”
The reader is aware that she took an opportunity of executing this
purpose on the eve of Waverley’s leaving the glen.
How Donald executed his enterprise the reader is aware. But the
expulsion of the military from Tully-Veolan had given alarm, and while
he was lying in wait for Gilfillan, a strong party, such as Donald did
not care to face, was sent to drive back the insurgents in their turn,
to encamp there, and to protect the country. The officer, a gentleman
and a disciplinarian, neither intruded himself on Miss Bradwardine,
whose unprotected situation he respected, nor permitted his soldiers to
commit any breach of discipline. He formed a little camp upon an
eminence near the house of Tully-Veolan, and placed proper guards at
the passes in the vicinity. This unwelcome news reached Donald Bean
Lean as he was returning to Tully-Veolan. Determined, however, to
obtain the guerdon of his labour, he resolved, since approach to
Tully-Veolan was impossible, to deposit his prisoner in Janet’s
cottage, a place the very existence of which could hardly have been
suspected even by those who had long lived in the vicinity, unless they
had been guided thither, and which was utterly unknown to Waverley
himself. This effected, he claimed and received his reward. Waverley’s
illness was an event which deranged all their calculations. Donald was
obliged to leave the neighbourhood with his people, and to seek more
free course for his adventures elsewhere. At Rose’s entreaty, he left
an old man, a herbalist, who was supposed to understand a little of
medicine, to attend Waverley during his illness.
In the meanwhile, new and fearful doubts started in Rose’s mind. They
were suggested by old Janet, who insisted that, a reward having been
offered for the apprehension of Waverley, and his own personal effects
being so valuable, there was no saying to what breach of faith Donald
might be tempted. In an agony of grief and terror, Rose took the daring
resolution of explaining to the Prince himself the danger in which Mr.
Waverley stood, judging that, both as a politician and a man of honour
and humanity, Charles Edward would interest himself to prevent his
falling into the hands of the opposite party. This letter she at first
thought of sending anonymously, but naturally feared it would not in
that case be credited. She therefore subscribed her name, though with
reluctance and terror, and consigned it in charge to a young man, who
at leaving his farm to join the Chevalier’s army, made it his petition
to her to have some sort of credentials to the adventurer, from whom he
hoped to obtain a commission.
The letter reached Charles Edward on his descent to the Lowlands, and,
aware of the political importance of having it supposed that he was in
correspondence with the English Jacobites, he caused the most positive
orders to be transmitted to Donald Bean Lean to transmit Waverley, safe
and uninjured, in person or effects, to the governor of Doune Castle.
The freebooter durst not disobey, for the army of the Prince was now so
near him that punishment might have followed; besides, he was a
politician as well as a robber, and was unwilling to cancel the
interest created through former secret services by being refractory on
this occasion. He therefore made a virtue of necessity, and transmitted
orders to his lieutenant to convey Edward to Doune, which was safely
accomplished in the mode mentioned in a former chapter. The governor of
Doune was directed to send him to Edinburgh as a prisoner, because the
Prince was apprehensive that Waverley, if set at liberty, might have
resumed his purpose of returning to England, without affording him an
opportunity of a personal interview. In this, indeed, he acted by the
advice of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich, with whom it may be remembered
the Chevalier communicated upon the mode of disposing of Edward, though
without telling him how he came to learn the place of his confinement.
This, indeed, Charles Edward considered as a lady’s secret; for
although Rose’s letter was couched in the most cautious and general
terms, and professed to be written merely from motives of humanity and
zeal for the Prince’s service, yet she expressed so anxious a wish that
she should not be known to have interfered, that the Chevalier was
induced to suspect the deep interest which she took in Waverley’s
safety. This conjecture, which was well founded, led, however, to false
inferences. For the emotion which Edward displayed on approaching Flora
and Rose at the ball of Holyrood was placed by the Chevalier to the
account of the latter; and he concluded that the Baron’s views about
the settlement of his property, or some such obstacle, thwarted their
mutual inclinations. Common fame, it is true, frequently gave Waverley
to Miss Mac-Ivor; but the Prince knew that common fame is very prodigal
in such gifts; and, watching attentively the behaviour of the ladies
towards Waverley, he had no doubt that the young Englishman had no
interest with Flora, and was beloved by Rose Bradwardine. Desirous to
bind Waverley to his service, and wishing also to do a kind and
friendly action, the Prince next assailed the Baron on the subject of
settling his estate upon his daughter. Mr. Bradwardine acquiesced; but
the consequence was that Fergus was immediately induced to prefer his
double suit for a wife and an earldom, which the Prince rejected in the
manner we have seen. The Chevalier, constantly engaged in his own
multiplied affairs, had not hitherto sought any explanation with
Waverley, though often meaning to do so. But after Fergus’s declaration
he saw the necessity of appearing neutral between the rivals, devoutly
hoping that the matter, which now seemed fraught with the seeds of
strife, might be permitted to lie over till the termination of the
expedition. When, on the march to Derby, Fergus, being questioned
concerning his quarrel with Waverley, alleged as the cause that Edward
was desirous of retracting the suit he had made to his sister, the
Chevalier plainly told him that he had himself observed Miss Mac-Ivor’s
behaviour to Waverley, and that he was convinced Fergus was under the
influence of a mistake in judging of Waverley’s conduct, who, he had
every reason to believe, was engaged to Miss Bradwardine. The quarrel
which ensued between Edward and the Chieftain is, I hope, still in the
remembrance of the reader. These circumstances will serve to explain
such points of our narrative as, according to the custom of
story-tellers, we deemed it fit to leave unexplained, for the purpose
of exciting the reader’s curiosity.
When Janet had once finished the leading facts of this narrative,
Waverley was easily enabled to apply the clue which they afforded to
other mazes of the labyrinth in which he had been engaged. To Rose
Bradwardine, then, he owed the life which he now thought he could
willingly have laid down to serve her. A little reflection convinced
him, however, that to live for her sake was more convenient and
agreeable, and that, being possessed of independence, she might share
it with him either in foreign countries or in his own. The pleasure of
being allied to a man of the Baron’s high worth, and who was so much
valued by his uncle Sir Everard, was also an agreeable consideration,
had anything been wanting to recommend the match. His absurdities,
which had appeared grotesquely ludicrous during his prosperity, seemed,
in the sunset of his fortune, to be harmonised and assimilated with the
noble features of his character, so as to add peculiarity without
exciting ridicule. His mind occupied with such projects of future
happiness, Edward sought Little Veolan, the habitation of Mr. Duncan
Macwheeble.