AFTER wandering about for some time Edward came unexpectedly upon a
hamlet. Lights gleamed down the street, and Edward could hear loud
voices and the tramp of horses. The sound of shouted orders and
soldiers' oaths soon told him that he was in great danger. For these
were English troops, and if they caught him in his Mac-Ivor tartan,
would assuredly give him short shrift and a swift bullet.
Lingering a moment uncertainly near the gate of a small garden
enclosure, he felt himself caught by gentle hands and drawn toward a
house.
"Come, Ned," said a low voice, "the dragoons are down the village, and
they will do thee a mischief. Come with me into feyther's!"
Judging this to be very much to the purpose, Edward followed, but when
the girl saw the tall figure in tartans instead of the sweetheart she
had expected, she dropped the candle she had lighted, and called out for
her father.
A stout Westmoreland peasant at once appeared, poker in hand, and
presently Edward found himself not ill received--by the daughter on
account of a likeness to her lover (so she said) and by the father
because of a certain weakness for the losing side. So, in the house of
Farmer Jopson, Edward slept soundly that night, in spite of the dangers
which surrounded him on every side. In the morning the true Edward,
whose name turned out to be Ned Williams, was called in to consult with
father and daughter. It seemed impossible for Edward to go north to
rejoin the Prince's forces. They had evacuated Penrith and marched away
toward Carlisle. The whole intervening country was covered by scouting
parties of government horsemen. Whereupon Ned Williams, who wished above
all things to rid the house of his handsome namesake, lest his
sweetheart Cicely should make other mistakes, offered to get Waverley a
change of clothes, and to conduct him to his father's farm near
Ulswater. Neither old Jopson nor his daughter would accept a farthing of
money for saving Waverley's life. A hearty handshake paid one; a kiss,
the other. And so it was not long before Ned Williams was introducing
our hero to his family, in the character of a young clergyman who was
detained in the north by the unsettled state of the country.
On their way into Cumberland they passed the field of battle where
Edward had lost sight of Fergus. Many bodies still lay upon the face of
the moorland, but that of Vich Ian Vohr was not among them, and Edward
passed on with some hope that in spite of the _Bodach Glas_, Fergus
might have escaped his doom. They found Callum Beg, however, his tough
skull cloven at last by a dragoon's sword, but there was no sign either
of Evan or of his Chieftain.
In the secure shelter of good Farmer Williams's house among the hills,
it was Edward's lot to remain somewhat longer than he intended. In the
first place, it was wholly impossible to move for ten days, owing to a
great fall of snow. Then he heard how that the Prince had retreated
farther into Scotland, how Carlisle had been besieged and taken by the
English, and that the whole north was covered by the hosts of the Duke
of Cumberland and General Wade.
But in the month of January it happened that the clergyman who came to
perform the ceremony at the wedding of Ned Williams and Cicely Jopson,
brought with him a newspaper which he showed to Edward. In it Waverley
read with astonishment a notice of his father's death in London, and of
the approaching trial of Sir Everard for high treason--unless (said the
report) Edward Waverley, son of the late Richard Waverley, and heir to
the baronet, should in the meantime surrender himself to justice.
It was with an aching anxious heart that Waverley set out by the
northern diligence for London. He found himself in the vehicle opposite
to an officer's wife, one Mrs. Nosebag, who tormented him all the way
with questions, on several occasions almost finding him out, and once at
least narrowly escaping giving him an introduction to a recruiting
sergeant of his own regiment.
However, in spite of all risks, he arrived safely under Colonel Talbot's
roof, where he found that, though the news of his father's death was
indeed true, yet his own conduct certainly had nothing to do with the
matter--nor was Sir Everard in the slightest present danger.
Whereupon, much relieved as to his family, Edward proclaimed his
intention of returning to Scotland as soon as possible--not indeed to
join with the rebels again, but for the purpose of seeking out Rose
Bradwardine and conducting her to a place of safety.
It was not, perhaps, the wisest course he might have pursued. But during
his lonely stay at Farmer Williams's farm, Edward's heart had turned
often and much to Rose. He could not bear to think of her alone and
without protection. By means of a passport (which had been obtained for
one Frank Stanley, Colonel Talbot's nephew), Waverley was able easily to
reach Edinburgh. Here from the landlady, with whom he and Fergus had
lodged, Edward first heard the dread news of Culloden, of the slaughter
of the clans, the flight of the Prince, and, worst of all, how Fergus
and Evan Dhu, captured the night of the skirmish, were presently on
trial for their lives at Carlisle. Flora also was in Carlisle, awaiting
the issue of the trial, while with less certainty Rose Bradwardine was
reported to have gone back to her father's mansion of Tully-Veolan.
Concerning the brave old Baron himself, Edward could get no news, save
that he had fought most stoutly at Culloden, but that the government
were particularly bitter against him because he had been '_out_'
twice--that is, he had taken part both in the first rising of the year
1715, and also in that which had just been put down in blood at
Culloden.
Without a moment's hesitation, Edward set off for Tully-Veolan, and
after one or two adventures he arrived there, only to find the white
tents of a military encampment whitening the moor above the village. The
house itself had been sacked. Part of the stables had been burned, while
the only living being left about the mansion of Tully-Veolan was no
other than poor Davie Gellatley, who, chanting his foolish songs as
usual, greeted Edward with the cheering intelligence that "_A' were dead
and gane--Baron--Bailie--Saunders Saunderson--and Lady Rose that sang
sae sweet!_"
However, it was not long before he set off at full speed, motioning
Waverley to follow him. The innocent took a difficult and dangerous path
along the sides of a deep glen, holding on to bushes, rounding perilous
corners of rock, till at last the barking of dogs directed them to the
entrance of a wretched hovel. Here Davie's mother received Edward with a
sullen fierceness which the young man could not understand--till, from
behind the door, holding a pistol in his hand, unwashed, gaunt, and
with a three weeks' beard fringing his hollow cheeks, he saw come
forth--the Baron of Bradwardine himself.
After the first gladsome greetings were over, the old man had many a
tale to tell his young English friend. But his chief grievance was not
his danger of the gallows, nor the discomfort of his hiding-place, but
the evil-doing of his cousin, to whom, as it now appeared, the Barony of
Bradwardine now belonged. Malcolm of Inch-Grabbit had, it appeared, come
to uplift the rents of the Barony. But the country people, being
naturally indignant that he should have so readily taken advantage of
the misfortune of his kinsman, received him but ill. Indeed, a shot was
fired at the new proprietor by some unknown marksman in the gloaming,
which so frightened the heir that he fled at once to Stirling and had
the estate promptly advertised for sale.
"In addition to which," continued the old man, "though I bred him up
from a boy, he hath spoken much against me to the great folk of the
time, so that they have sent a company of soldiers down here to destroy
all that belongs to me, and to hunt his own blood-kin like a partridge
upon the mountains."
"Aye," cried Janet Gellatley, "and if it had not been for my poor Davie
there, they would have catched the partridge, too!"
Then with a true mother's pride Janet told the story of how the poor
innocent had saved his master. The Baron was compelled by the strictness
of the watch to hide, all day and most of the nights, in a cave high up
in a wooded glen.
"A comfortable place enough," the old woman explained; "for the goodman
of Corse-Cleugh has filled it with straw. But his Honour tires of it,
and he comes down here whiles for a warm at the fire, or at times a
sleep between the blankets. But once, when he was going back in the
dawn, two of the English soldiers got a glimpse of him as he was
slipping into the wood and banged off a gun at him. I was out on them
like a hawk, crying if they wanted to murder a poor woman's innocent
bairn! Whereupon they swore down my throat that they had seen 'the auld
rebel himself,' as they called the Baron. But my Davie, that some folk
take for a simpleton, being in the wood, caught up the old grey cloak
that his Honour had dropped to run the quicker, and came out from among
the trees as we were speaking, majoring and play-acting so like his
Honour that the soldier-men were clean beguiled, and even gave me
sixpence to say nothing about their having let off their gun at 'poor
crack-brained Sawney,' as they named my Davie!"
It was not till this long tale was ended that Waverley heard what he had
come so far to find out--that Rose was safe in the house of a Whig
Laird, an old friend of her father's, and that the Bailie, who had early
left the army of the Prince, was trying his best to save something out
of the wreck for her.
The next morning Edward went off to call on Bailie Macwheeble. At first
the man of law was not very pleased to see him, but when he learned that
Waverley meant to ask Rose to be his wife, he flung his best wig out of
the window and danced the Highland fling for very joy. This rejoicing
was a little marred by the fact that Waverley was still under
proscription. But when a messenger of the Bailie's had returned from the
nearest post-town with a letter from Colonel Talbot, all fear on this
account was at an end. Colonel Talbot had, though with the greatest
difficulty, obtained royal Protections for both the Baron of Bradwardine
and for Edward himself. There was no doubt that full pardons would
follow in due course.
Right thankfully the Baron descended from his cave, as soon as Edward
carried him the good news, and with Davie Gellatley and his mother, all
went down to the house of Bailie Macwheeble, where supper was
immediately served.
It was from old Janet Gellatley, Davie's mother, that Waverley learned
whom he had to thank for rescuing him from the hands of Captain Gifted
Gilfillan, and to whom the gentle voice belonged which had cheered him
during his illness. It was none other than Rose Bradwardine herself. To
her, Edward owed all. She had even given up her jewels to Donald Bean
Lean, that he might go scatheless. She it was who had provided a nurse
for him in the person of old Janet Gellatley herself, and lastly she had
seen him safely on his way to Holyrood under the escort of the sulky
Laird of Balmawhapple.
So great kindness certainly required very special thanks. And Edward was
not backward in asking the Baron for permission to accompany him to the
house of Duchran, where Rose was at present residing. So well did Edward
express his gratitude to Rose, that she consented to give all her life
into his hands, that he might go on showing how thankful he was.
Of course the marriage could not take place for some time, because the
full pardons of the Baron and Edward took some time to obtain. For
Fergus Mac-Ivor, alas, no pardon was possible. He and Evan Dhu were
condemned to be executed for high treason at Carlisle, and all that
Edward could do was only to promise the condemned Chieftain that he
would be kind to the poor clansmen of Vich Ian Vohr, for the sake of his
friend.
As for Evan Dhu, he might have escaped. The Judge went the length of
offering to show mercy, if Evan would only ask it. But when Evan Dhu was
called upon to plead before the Court, his only request was that he
might be permitted to go down to Glennaquoich and bring up six men to be
hanged in the place of Vich Ian Vohr.
"And," he said, "ye may begin with me the first man!"
At this there was a laugh in the Court. But Evan, looking about him
sternly, added: "If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing because a poor man
such as me thinks my life, or the life of any six of my degree, is worth
that of Vich Ian Vohr, they may be very right. But if they laugh because
they think I would not keep my word, and come back to redeem him, I can
tell them they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman nor the honour of a
gentleman!"
After these words, there was no more laughing in that Court.
Nothing now could save Fergus Mac-Ivor. The government were resolved on
his death as an example, and both he and Evan were accordingly executed,
along with many others of the unhappy garrison of Carlisle.
* * * * *
Edward and Rose were married from the house of Duchran, and some days
after they started, according to the custom of the time, to spend some
time upon an estate which Colonel Talbot had bought, as was reported, a
very great bargain. The Baron had been persuaded to accompany them,
taking a place of honour in their splendid coach and six, the gift of
Sir Everard. The coach of Mr. Rubrick of Duchran came next, full of
ladies, and many gentlemen on horseback rode with them as an escort to
see them well on their way.
At the turning of the road which led to Tully-Veolan, the Bailie met
them. He requested the party to turn aside and accept of his hospitality
at his house of Little Veolan. The Baron, somewhat put out, replied that
he and his son-in-law would ride that way, but that they would not bring
upon him the whole matrimonial procession. It was clear, however, that
the Baron rather dreaded visiting the ancient home of his ancestors,
which had been so lately sold by the unworthy Malcolm of Inch-Grabbit
into the hands of a stranger. But as the Bailie insisted, and as the
party evidently wished to accept, he could not hold out.
When the Baron arrived at the avenue, he fell into a melancholy
meditation, thinking doubtless of the days when he had taken such pride
in the ancient Barony which had passed for ever away from the line of
the Bradwardines. From these bitter thoughts he was awakened by the
sight of the two huge stone bears which had been replaced over the
gate-posts.
Then down the avenue came the two great deer-hounds, Ban and Buscar,
which had so long kept their master company in his solitude, with Daft
Davie Gellatley dancing behind them.
The Baron was then informed that the present owner of the Barony was no
other than Colonel Talbot himself. But that if he did not care to visit
the new owner of Bradwardine, the party would proceed to Little Veolan,
the house of Bailie Macwheeble.
Then, indeed, the Baron had need of all his greatness of mind. But he
drew a long breath, took snuff abundantly, and remarked that as they had
brought him so far, he would not pass the Colonel's gate, and that he
would be happy to see the new master of his tenants. When he alighted in
front of the Castle, the Baron was astonished to find how swiftly the
marks of spoliation had been removed. Even the roots of the felled trees
had disappeared. All was fair and new about the house of Tully-Veolan,
even to the bright colours of the garb of Davie Gellatley, who ran first
to one and then to the other of the company, passing his hands over his
new clothes and crying, "Braw, braw Davie!"
The dogs, Bran and Buscar, leaping upon him, brought tears into the
Baron's eyes, even more than the kind welcome of Colonel Talbot's wife,
the Lady Emily. Still more astonishing appeared the changes in the so
lately ruined courtyard. The burned stables had been rebuilt upon a
newer and better plan. The pigeon-house was restocked, and populous with
fluttering wings. Even the smallest details of the garden, and the
multitude of stone bears on the gables, had all been carefully restored
as of old.
The Baron could hardly believe his eyes, and he marvelled aloud that
Colonel Talbot had not thought fit to replace the Bradwardine arms by
his own. But here the Colonel, suddenly losing patience, declared that
he would not, even to please these foolish boys, Waverley and Frank
Stanley (and his own more foolish wife), continue to impose upon another
old soldier. So without more ado he told the Baron that he had only
advanced the money to buy back the Barony, and that he would leave
Bailie Macwheeble to explain to whom the estate really belonged.
Trembling with eagerness the Bailie advanced, a formidable roll of
papers in his hand.
He began triumphantly to explain that Colonel Talbot had indeed bought
Bradwardine, but that he had immediately exchanged it for Brere-wood
Lodge, which had been left to Edward under his father's will.
Bradwardine had therefore returned to its ancient Lord in full and
undisputed possession, and the Baron was once more master of all his
hereditary powers, subject only to an easy yearly payment to his
son-in-law.
Tears were actually in the old gentleman's eyes as he went from room to
room, so that he could scarce speak a word of welcome either to the
guests within, or of thanks to the rejoicing farmers and cottars who,
hearing of his return, had gathered without. The climax of his joy was,
however, reached when the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine itself, the
golden cup of his line, mysteriously recovered out of the spoil of the
English army by Frank Stanley, was brought to the Baron's elbow by old
Saunders Saunderson.
Truth to tell, the recovery of this heirloom afforded the old man almost
as much pleasure as the regaining of his Barony, and there is little
doubt that a tear mingled with the wine, as, holding the Blessed Bear in
his hand, the Baron solemnly proposed the healths of the united families
of Waverley-Honour and Bradwardine.