CHAPTER LVI

EXERTION

When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlour 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.

'There,' said he, throwing a paper on the table, 'there is my

morning's work. Alick, pack up the Colonel's clothes. Make haste,

make haste.'

The Colonel examined the paper with astonishment. It was a pass

from the Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to Leith, or any

other port in possession of his Royal Highness's troops, and there

to embark for England or elsewhere, at his free pleasure; he only

giving his parole of honour not to bear arms against the house of

Stuart for the space of a twelve-month.

'In the name of God,' said the Colonel, his eyes sparkling with

eagerness, 'how did you obtain this?'

'I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he usually rises. He

was gone to the camp at Duddingston. I pursued him thither, asked

and obtained an audience--but I will tell you not a word more,

unless I see you begin to pack.'

'Before I know whether I can avail myself of this passport, or how

it was obtained?'

'O, you can take out the things again, you know. Now I see you

busy, I will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his eyes

sparkled almost as bright as yours did two minutes since. "Had

you," he earnestly asked, "shown any sentiments favourable to his

cause?" "Not in the least, nor was there any hope you would do

so." His countenance fell. I requested your freedom. "Impossible,"

he said; "your importance as a friend and confidant of such and

such personages made my request altogether extravagant." I told

him my own story and yours; and asked him to judge what my

feelings must be by his own. He has a heart, and a kind one,

Colonel Talbot, you may say what you please. He took a sheet of

paper and wrote the pass with his own hand. "I will not trust

myself with my council," he said; "they will argue me out of what

is right. I will not endure that a friend, valued as I value you,

should be loaded with the painful reflections which must afflict

you in case of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's family; nor

will I keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such circumstances.

Besides," said he, "I think I can justify myself to my prudent

advisers by pleading the good effect such lenity will produce on

the minds of the great English families with whom Colonel Talbot

is connected."'

'There the politician peeped out,' said the Colonel.

'Well, at least he concluded like a king's son: "Take the

passport; I have added a condition for form's sake; but if the

Colonel objects to it, let him depart without giving any parole

whatever. I come here to war with men, but not to distress or

endanger women."'

'Well, I never thought to have been so much indebted to the

Pretend--'

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

'To the Chevalier,' said the Colonel; 'it is a good travelling

name, and which we may both freely use. Did he say anything more?'

'Only asked if there was anything else he could oblige me in; and

when I replied in the negative, he shook me by the hand, and

wished all his followers were as considerate, since some friends

of mine not only asked all he had to bestow, but many things which

were entirely out of his power, or that of the greatest sovereign

upon earth. Indeed, he said, no prince seemed, in the eyes of his

followers, so like the Deity as himself, if you were to judge from

the extravagant requests which they daily preferred to him.'

'Poor young gentleman,' said the Colonel, 'I suppose he begins to

feel the difficulties of his situation. Well, dear Waverley, this

is more than kind, and shall not be forgotten while Philip Talbot

can remember anything. My life--pshaw--let Emily thank you for

that; this is a favour worth fifty lives. I cannot hesitate on

giving my parole in the circumstances; there it is (he wrote it

out in form). And now, how am I to get off?'

'All that is settled: your baggage is packed, my horses wait, and

a boat has been engaged, by the Prince's permission, to put you on

board the Fox frigate. I sent a messenger down to Leith on

purpose.'

'That will do excellently well. Captain Beaver is my particular

friend; he will put me ashore at Berwick or Shields, from whence I

can ride post to London; and you must entrust me with the packet

of papers which you recovered by means of your Miss Bean Lean. I

may have an opportunity of using them to your advantage. But I see

your Highland friend, Glen ---- what do you call his barbarous name?

and his orderly with him; I must not call him his orderly cut-

throat any more, I suppose. See how he walks as if the world were

his own, with the bonnet on one side of his head and his plaid

puffed out across his breast! I should like now to meet that youth

where my hands were not tied: I would tame his pride, or he should

tame mine.'

'For shame, Colonel Talbot! you swell at sight of tartan as the

bull is said to do at scarlet. You and Mac-Ivor have some points

not much unlike, so far as national prejudice is concerned.'

The latter part of this discourse took place in the street. They

passed the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and punctiliously

greeting each other, like two duellists before they take their

ground. It was evident the dislike was mutual. 'I never see that

surly fellow that dogs his heels,' said the Colonel, after he had

mounted his horse, 'but he reminds me of lines I have somewhere

heard--upon the stage, I think:--

Close behind him

Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend,

Pressing to be employed.

'I assure you, Colonel,' said Waverley,'that you judge too harshly

of the Highlanders.'

'Not a whit, not a whit; I cannot spare them a jot; I cannot bate

them an ace. Let them stay in their own barren mountains, and puff

and swell, and hang their bonnets on the horns of the moon, if

they have a mind; but what business have they to come where people

wear breeches, and speak an intelligible language? I mean

intelligible in comparison to their gibberish, for even the

Lowlanders talk a kind of English little better than the Negroes

in Jamaica. I could pity the Pr----, I mean the, Chevalier

himself, for having so many desperadoes about him. And they learn

their trade so early. There is a kind of subaltern imp, for

example, a sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glena----

Glenamuck there, has sometimes in his train. To look at him, he is

about fifteen years; but he is a century old in mischief and

villainy. He was playing at quoits the other day in the court; a

gentleman, a decent-looking person enough, came past, and as a

quoit hit his shin, he lifted his cane; but my young bravo whips

out his pistol, like Beau Clincher in the "Trip to the Jubilee,"

and had not a scream of Gardez l'eau from an upper window set all

parties a-scampering for fear of the inevitable consequences, the

poor gentleman would have lost his life by the hands of that

little cockatrice.'

'A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return,

Colonel Talbot.'

'O, Justice Shallow,' said the Colonel, 'will save me the trouble

--"Barren, barren, beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good air,"--and

that only when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and not yet come

to Leith, as is our case at present.'

In a short time they arrived at the seaport.

The boat rock'd at the pier of Leith,

Full loud the wind blew down the ferry;

The ship rode at the Berwick Law.

'Farewell, Colonel; may you find all as you would wish it! Perhaps

we may meet sooner than you expect; they talk of an immediate

route to England.'

'Tell me nothing of that,' said Talbot; 'I wish to carry no news

of your motions.'

'Simply, then, adieu. Say, with a thousand kind greetings, all

that is dutiful and affectionate to Sir Everard and Aunt Rachel.

Think of me as kindly as you can, speak of me as indulgently as

your conscience will permit, and once more adieu.'

'And adieu, my dear Waverley; many, many thanks for your kindness.

Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity. I shall ever think on

you with gratitude, and the worst of my censure shall be, Que

diable alloit-il faire dans cette galere?'

And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board of the boat

and Waverley returning to Edinburgh.

Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2 · 第 21 / 37 章