A CONFIDANT
Waverley awoke in the morning, from troubled dreams and unrefreshing
slumbers, to a full consciousness of the horrors of his situation. How
it might terminate he knew not. He might be delivered up to military
law, which, in the midst of civil war, was not likely to be scrupulous
in the choice of its victims, or the quality of the evidence. Nor did he
feel much more comfortable at the thoughts of a trial before a Scottish
court of justice, where he knew the laws and forms differed in many
respects from those of England, and had been taught to believe, however
erroneously, that the liberty and rights of the subject were less
carefully protected. A sentiment of bitterness rose in his mind against
the Government, which he considered as the cause of his embarrassment
and peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulous rejection of
Mac-Ivor's invitation to accompany him to the field.
'Why did not I,' he said to himself, 'like other men of honour, take the
earliest opportunity to welcome to Britain the descendant of her ancient
kings, and lineal heir of her throne? Why did not I
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith,
Seek out Prince Charles, and fall before his feet?
All that has been recorded of excellence and worth in the house of
Waverley has been founded upon their loyal faith to the house of Stuart.
From the interpretation which this Scotch magistrate has put upon
the letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that I ought to have
understood them as marshalling me to the course of my ancestors; and it
has been my gross dullness, joined to the obscurity of expression which
they adopted for the sake of security, that has confounded my judgement.
Had I yielded to the first generous impulse of indignation when I
learned that my honour was practised upon, how different had been my
present situation! I had then been free and in arms, fighting, like my
forefathers, for love, for loyalty, and for fame. And now I am here,
netted and in the toils, at the disposal of a suspicious, stern,
and cold-hearted man, perhaps to be turned over to the solitude of a
dungeon, or the infamy of a public execution. O Fergus! how true has
your prophecy proved; and how speedy, how very speedy, has been its
accomplishment!'
While Edward was ruminating on these painful subjects of contemplation,
and very naturally, though not quite so justly, bestowing upon the
reigning dynasty that blame which was due to chance, or, in part at
least, to his own unreflecting conduct, Mr. Morton availed himself of
Major Melville's permission to pay him an early visit.
Waverley's first impulse was to intimate a desire that he might not
be disturbed with questions or conversation; but he suppressed it upon
observing the benevolent and reverend appearance of the clergyman who
had rescued him from the immediate violence of the villagers.
'I believe, sir,' said the unfortunate young man, 'that in any other
circumstances I should have had as much gratitude to express to you as
the safety of my life may be worth; but such is the present tumult of
my mind, and such is my anticipation of what I am yet likely to endure,
that I can hardly offer you thanks for your interposition.'
Mr. Morton replied, that, far from making any claim upon his good
opinion, his only wish and the sole purpose of his visit was to find
out the means of deserving it. 'My excellent friend, Major Melville,' he
continued, 'has feelings and duties as a soldier and public functionary,
by which I am not fettered; nor can I always coincide in opinions which
he forms, perhaps with too little allowance for the imperfections of
human nature. He paused, and then proceeded: 'I do not intrude myself
on your confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the purpose of learning any
circumstances, the knowledge of which can be prejudicial either to
yourself or to others; but I own my earnest wish is, that you would
entrust me with any particulars which could lead to your exculpation. I
can solemnly assure you they will be deposited with a faithful, and, to
the extent of his limited powers, a zealous agent.'
'You are, sir, I presume, a Presbyterian clergyman?'--Mr. Morton
bowed.--'Were I to be guided by the prepossessions of education, I might
distrust your friendly professions in my case; but I have observed
that similar prejudices are nourished in this country against your
professional brethren of the Episcopal persuasion, and I am willing to
believe them equally unfounded in both cases.'
'Evil to him that thinks otherwise,' said Mr. Morton; 'or who holds
church government and ceremonies as the exclusive gage of Christian
faith or moral virtue.'
'But,' continued Waverley, 'I cannot perceive why I should trouble you
with a detail of particulars, out of which, after revolving them as
carefully as possible in my recollection, I find myself unable to
explain much of what is charged against me. I know, indeed, that I am
innocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prove myself so.'
'It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley,' said the clergyman, 'that I
venture to solicit your confidence. My knowledge of individuals in
this country is pretty general, and can upon occasion be extended.
Your situation will, I fear, preclude you taking those active steps for
recovering intelligence, or tracing imposture, which I would willingly
undertake in your behalf; and if you are not benefited by my exertions,
at least they cannot be prejudicial to you.'
Waverley, after a few minutes' reflection, was convinced that his
reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so far as he himself was concerned,
could hurt neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Fergus Mac-Ivor, both of whom had
openly assumed arms against the Government, and that it might possibly,
if the professions of his new friend corresponded in sincerity with
the earnestness of his expression, be of some service to himself. He
therefore ran briefly over most of the events with which the reader
is already acquainted, suppressing his attachment to Flora, and indeed
neither mentioning her nor Rose Bradwardine in the course of his
narrative.
Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the account of Waverley's
visit to Donald Bean Lean. 'I am glad,' he said, 'you did not mention
this circumstance to the Major. It is capable of great misconstruction
on the part; of those who do not consider the power of curiosity and the
influence of romance as motives of youthful conduct. When I was a young
man like you, Mr. Waverley, any such hair-brained expedition (I beg your
pardon for the expression) would have had inexpressible charms for me.
But there are men in the world who will not believe that danger
and fatigue are often incurred without any very adequate cause, and
therefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of action entirely
foreign to the truth. This man Bean Lean is renowned through the country
as a sort of Robin Hood, and the stories which are told of his address
and enterprise are the common tales of the winter fireside. He certainly
possesses talents beyond the rude sphere in which he moves; and, being
neither destitute of ambition nor encumbered with scruples, he will
probably attempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the
period of these unhappy commotions.' Mr. Morton then made a careful
memorandum of the various particulars of Waverley's interview with
Donald Bean Lean, and the other circumstances which he had communicated.
The interest which this good man seemed to take in his
misfortunes,--above all, the full confidence he appeared to repose in
his innocence,--had the natural effect of softening Edward's heart, whom
the coldness of Major Melville had taught to believe that the world
was leagued to oppress him. He shook Mr. Morton warmly by the hand, and
assuring him that his kindness and sympathy had relieved his mind of a
heavy load, told him, that whatever might be his own fate, he belonged
to a family who had both gratitude and the power of displaying it.
The earnestness of his thanks called drops to the eyes of the worthy
clergyman, who was doubly interested in the cause for which he had
volunteered his services, by observing the genuine and undissembled
feelings of his young friend.
Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was likely to be his
destination.
'Stirling Castle,' replied his friend; 'and so far I am well pleased
for your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and humanity. But
I am more doubtful of your treatment upon the road; Major Melville is
involuntarily obliged to entrust the custody of your person to another.'
'I am glad of it,' answered Waverley. 'I detest that cold-blooded
calculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall never meet more:
he had neither sympathy with my innocence nor my wretchedness; and the
petrifying accuracy with which he attended to every form of civility,
while he tortured me by his questions, his suspicions, and his
inferences, was as tormenting as the racks of the Inquisition. Do not
vindicate him, my dear sir, for that I cannot bear with patience; tell
me rather who is to have the charge of so important a state prisoner as
I am.'
'I believe a person called Gilfillan, one of the sect who are termed
Cameronians.'
'I never heard of them before.'
'They claim,' said the clergyman, 'to represent the more strict and
severe Presbyterians, who in Charles Second's and James Second's days,
refused to profit by the Toleration, or Indulgence, as it was called,
which was extended to others of that religion. They held conventicles in
the open fields, and being treated, with great violence and cruelty by
the Scottish government, more than once took arms during those reigns.
They take their name from their leader, Richard Cameron.
'I recollect,' said Waverley; 'but did not the triumph of Presbytery at
the Revolution extinguish that sect?'
'By no means,' replied Morton; 'that great event fell yet far short
of what they proposed, which was nothing less than the complete
establishment of the Presbyterian Church, upon the grounds of the old
Solemn League and Covenant. Indeed, I believe they scarce knew what they
wanted; but being a numerous body of men, and not unacquainted with the
use of arms, they kept themselves together as a separate party in the
state, and at the time of the Union had nearly formed a most unnatural
league with their old enemies, the Jacobites, to oppose that important
national measure. Since that time their numbers have gradually
diminished; but a good many are still to be found in the western
counties, and several, with a better temper than in 1707, have now taken
arms for Government, This person, whom they call Gifted Gilfillan, has
been long a leader among them, and now heads a small party, which will
pass here to-day, or to-morrow, on their march towards Stirling, under
whose escort Major Melville proposes you shall travel. I would willingly
speak to Gilfillan in your behalf; but, having deeply imbibed all the
prejudices of his sect, and being of the same fierce disposition, he
would pay little regard to the remonstrances of an Erastian divine, as
he would politely term me.--And now, farewell, my young friend; for the
present, I must not weary out the Major's indulgence, that I may obtain
his permission to visit you again in the course of the day.'