Happy's the wooing
That's not long a doing
When the first rapturous sensation occasioned by these excellent
tidings had somewhat subsided, Edward proposed instantly to go
down to the glen to acquaint the Baron with their import. But the
cautious Bailie justly observed that, if the Baron were to appear
instantly in public, the tenantry and villagers might become
riotous in expressing their joy, and give offence to 'the powers
that be,' a sort of persons for whom the Bailie always had
unlimited respect. He therefore proposed that Mr. Waverley should
go to Janet Gellatley's and bring the Baron up under cloud of
night to Little Veolan, where he might once more enjoy the luxury
of a good bed. In the meanwhile, he said, he himself would go to
Captain Foster and show him the Baron's protection, and obtain his
countenance for harbouring him that night, and he would have
horses ready on the morrow to set him on his way to the Duchran
along with Mr. Stanley, 'whilk denomination, I apprehend, your
honour will for the present retain,' said the Bailie.
'Certainly, Mr. Macwheeble; but will you not go down to the glen
yourself in the evening to meet your patron?'
'That I wad wi' a' my heart; and mickle obliged to your honour for
putting me in mind o' mybounden duty. But it will be past sunset
afore I get back frae the Captain's, and at these unsonsy hours
the glen has a bad name; there's something no that canny about
auld Janet Gellatley. The Laird he'll no believe thae things, but
he was aye ower rash and venturesome, and feared neither man nor
deevil, an sae's seen o't. But right sure am I Sir George
Mackenyie says, that no divine can doubt there are witches, since
the Bible says thou shalt not suffer them to live; and that no
lawyer in Scotland can doubt it, since it is punishable with death
by our law. So there's baith law and gospel for it. An his honour
winna believe the Leviticus, he might aye believe the Statute-
book; but he may tak his ain way o't; it's a' ane to Duncan
Macwheeble. However, I shall send to ask up auld Janet this e'en;
it's best no to lightly them that have that character; and we'll
want Davie to turn the spit, for I'll gar Eppie put down a fat
goose to the fire for your honours to your supper.'
When it was near sunset Waverley hastened to the hut; and he could
not but allow that superstition had chosen no improper locality,
or unfit object, for the foundation of her fantastic terrors. It
resembled exactly the description of Spenser:--
There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found
A little cottage built of sticks and reeds,
In homely wise, and wall'd with sods around,
In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds,
And wilful want, all careless of her needs,
So choosing solitary to abide
Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds,
And hellish arts, from people she might hide,
And hurt far off, unknown, whomsoever she espied.
He entered the cottage with these verses in his memory. Poor old
Janet, bent double with age and bleared with peat-smoke, was
tottering about the hut with a birch broom, muttering to herself
as she endeavoured to make her hearth and floor a little clean for
the reception of her expected guests. Waverley's step made her
start, look up, and fall a-trembling, so much had her nerves been
on the rack for her patron's safety. With difficulty Waverley made
her comprehend that the Baron was now safe from personal danger;
and when her mind had admitted that joyful news, it was equally
hard to make her believe that he was not to enter again upon
possession of his estate. 'It behoved to be,' she said, 'he wad
get it back again; naebody wad be sae gripple as to tak his gear
after they had gi'en him a pardon: and for that Inch-Grabbit, I
could whiles wish mysell a witch for his sake, if I werena feared
the Enemy wad tak me at my word.' Waverley then gave her some
money, and promised that her fidelity should be rewarded. 'How can
I be rewarded, sir, sae weel as just to see my auld maister and
Miss Rose come back and bruik their ain?'
Waverley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood beneath the
Baron's Patmos. At a low whistle he observed the veteran peeping
out to reconnoitre, like an old badger with his head out of his
hole. 'Ye hae come rather early, my good lad,' said he,
descending; 'I question if the red-coats hae beat the tattoo yet,
and we're not safe till then.'
'Good news cannot be told too soon,' said Waverley; and with
infinite joy communicated to him the happy tidings. The old man
stood for a moment in silent devotion, then exclaimed, 'Praise be
to God! I shall see my bairn again.'
'And never, I hope, to part with her more,' said Waverley.
'I trust in God not, unless it be to win the means of supporting
her; for my things are but in a bruckle state;--but what signifies
warld's gear?'
'And if,' said Waverley modestly, 'there were a situation in life
which would put Miss Bradwardine beyond the uncertainty of
fortune, and in the rank to which she was born, would you object
to it, my dear Baron, because it would make one of your friends
the happiest man in the world?' The Baron turned and looked at him
with great earnestness. 'Yes,' continued Edward, 'I shall not
consider my sentence of banishment as repealed unless you will
give me permission to accompany you to the Duchran, and--'
The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to make a suitable
reply to what, at another time, he would have treated as the
propounding a treaty of alliance between the houses of Bradwardine
and Waverley. But his efforts were in vain; the father was too
mighty for the Baron; the pride of birth and rank were swept away;
in the joyful surprise a slight convulsion passed rapidly over his
features, as he gave way to the feelings of nature, threw his arms
around Waverley's neck, and sobbed out--'My son, my son! if I had
been to search the world, I would have made my choice here.'
Edward returned the embrace with great sympathy of feeling, and
for a little while they both kept silence. At length it was broken
by Edward. 'But Miss Bradwardine?'
'She had never a will but her old father's; besides, you are a
likely youth, of honest principles and high birth; no, she never
had any other will than mine, and in my proudest days I could not
have wished a mair eligible espousal for her than the nephew of my
excellent old friend, Sir Everard. But I hope, young man, ye deal
na rashly in this matter? I hope ye hae secured the approbation of
your ain friends and allies, particularly of your uncle, who is in
loco parentis? Ah! we maun tak heed o' that.' Edward assured him
that Sir Everard would think himself highly honoured in the
flattering reception his proposal had met with, and that it had
his entire approbation; in evidence of which he put Colonel
Talbot's letter into the Baron's hand. The Baron read it with
great attention. 'Sir Everard,' he said, 'always despised wealth
in comparison of honour and birth; and indeed he hath no occasion
to court the Diva Pecunia. Yet I now wish, since this Malcolm
turns out such a parricide, for I can call him no better, as to
think of alienating the family inheritance--I now wish (his eyes
fixed on a part of the roof which was visible above the trees)
that I could have left Rose the auld hurley-house and the riggs
belanging to it. And yet,' said he, resuming more cheerfully,
'it's maybe as weel as it is; for, as Baron of Bradwardine, I
might have thought it my duty to insist upon certain compliances
respecting name and bearings, whilk now, as a landless laird wi' a
tocherless daughter, no one can blame me for departing from.'
'Now, Heaven be praised!' thought Edward,'that Sir Everard does
not hear these scruples! The three ermines passant and rampant
bear would certainly have gone together by the ears.' He then,
with all the ardour of a young lover, assured the Baron that he
sought for his happiness only in Rose's heart and hand, and
thought himself as happy in her father's simple approbation as if
he had settled an earldom upon his daughter.
They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was smoking on the
table, and the Bailie brandished his knife and fork. A joyous
greeting took place between him and his patron. The kitchen, too,
had its company. Auld Janet was established at the ingle-nook;
Davie had turned the spit to his immortal honour; and even Ban and
Buscar, in the liberality of Macwheeble's joy, had been stuffed to
the throat with food, and now lay snoring on the floor.
The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the
Duchran, where the former was expected, in consequence of the
success of the nearly unanimous application of the Scottish
friends of government in his favour. This had been so general and
so powerful that it was almost thought his estate might have been
saved, had it not passed into the rapacious hands of his unworthy
kinsman, whose right, arising out of the Baron's attainder, could
not be affected by a pardon from the crown. The old gentleman,
however, said, with his usual spirit, he was more gratified by the
hold he possessed in the good opinion of his neighbours than he
would have been in being rehabilitated and restored in integrum,
had it been found practicable.'
We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the father and
daughter, loving each other so affectionately, and separated under
such perilous circumstances. Still less shall we attempt to
analyse the deep blush of Rose at receiving the compliments of
Waverley, or stop to inquire whether she had any curiosity
respecting the particular cause of his journey to Scotland at that
period. We shall not even trouble the reader with the humdrum
details of a courtship Sixty Years Since. It is enough to say
that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all things were
conducted in due form. He took upon himself, the morning after
their arrival, the task of announcing the proposal of Waverley to
Rose, which she heard with a proper degree of maiden timidity.
Fame does, however, say that Waverley had the evening before found
five minutes to apprise her of what was coming, while the rest of
the company were looking at three twisted serpents which formed a,
jet d'eau in the garden.
My fair readers will judge for themselves; but, for my part, I
cannot conceive how so important an affair could be communicated
in so short a space of time; at least, it certainly took a full
hour in the Baron's mode of conveying it.
Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms.
He was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the
lady of the house, to sit next Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to be
Miss Bradwardine's partner at cards. If he came into the room, she
of the four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose was sure to
recollect that her thimble or her scissors were at the other end
of the room, in order to leave the seat nearest to Miss
Bradwardine vacant for his occupation. And sometimes, if papa and
mamma were not in the way to keep them on their good behaviour,
the misses would titter a little. The old Laird of Duchran would
also have his occasional jest, and the old lady her remark. Even
the Baron could not refrain; but here Rose escaped every
embarrassment but that of conjecture, for his wit was usually
couched in a Latin quotation. The very footmen sometimes grinned
too broadly, the maidservants giggled mayhap too loud, and a
provoking air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole family.
Alice Bean, the pretty maid of the cavern, who, after her father's
misfortune, as she called it, had attended Rose as fille-de-
chambre, smiled and smirked with the best of them. Rose and
Edward, however, endured all these little vexatious circumstances
as other folks have done before and since, and probably contrived
to obtain some indemnification, since they are not supposed, on
the whole, to have been particularly unhappy during Waverley's six
days' stay at the Duchran.
It was finally arranged that Edward should go to Waverley-Honour
to make the necessary arrangements for his marriage, thence to
London to take the proper measures for pleading his pardon, and
return as soon as possible to claim the hand of his plighted
bride. He also intended in his journey to visit Colonel Talbot;
but, above all, it was his most important object to learn the fate
of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich; to visit him at
Carlisle, and to try whether anything could be done for procuring,
if not a pardon, a commutation at least, or alleviation, of the
punishment to which he was almost certain of being condemned; and,
in case of the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an asylum with
Rose, or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which might
seem possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard to be averted.
Edward had already striven to interest his friend, Colonel Talbot,
in his behalf; but had been given distinctly to understand by his
reply that his credit in matters of that nature was totally
exhausted.
The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there for
some months upon business confided to him by the Duke of
Cumberland. He was to be joined by Lady Emily, to whom easy
travelling and goat's whey were recommended, and who was to
journey northward under the escort of Francis Stanley. Edward,
therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who wished him joy in the
kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and cheerfully
undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily obliged
to delegate to his charge. But on the subject of Fergus he was
inexorable. He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference
would be unavailing; but, besides, Colonel Talbot owned that he
could not conscientiously use any influence in favour of that
unfortunate gentleman. 'Justice,' he said, 'which demanded some
penalty of those who had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in
mourning, could not perhaps have selected a fitter victim. He came
to the field with the fullest light upon the nature of his
attempt. He had studied and understood the subject. His father's
fate could not intimidate him; the lenity of the laws which had
restored to him his father's property and rights could not melt
him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed many good
qualities only rendered him the more dangerous; that he was
enlightened and accomplished made his crime the less excusable;
that he was an enthusiast in a wrong cause only made him the more
fit to be its martyr. Above all, he had been the means of bringing
many hundreds of men into the field who, without him, would never
have broken the peace of the country.
'I repeat it,' said the Colonel,'though Heaven knows with a heart
distressed for him as an individual, that this young gentleman has
studied and fully understood the desperate game which he has
played. He threw for life or death, a coronet or a coffin; and he
cannot now be permitted, with justice to the country, to draw
stakes because the dice have gone against him.'
Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and
humane men towards a vanquished enemy. Let us devoutly hope that,
in this respect at least, we shall never see the scenes or hold
the sentiments that were general in Britain Sixty Years Since.