CHAPTER LX
CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS
Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation. He soon lostthe sound of the bagpipes; and, what was yet more unpleasant, when,after searching long in vain and scrambling through many enclosures, heat length approached the highroad, he learned, from the unwelcome noiseof kettledrums and trumpets, that the English cavalry now occupied it,and consequently were between him and the Highlanders. Precluded,therefore, from advancing in a straight direction, he resolved to avoidthe English military and endeavour to join his friends by making acircuit to the left, for which a beaten path, deviating from the mainroad in that direction, seemed to afford facilities. The path was muddyand the night dark and cold; but even these inconveniences were hardlyfelt amidst the apprehensions which falling into the hands of theKing's forces reasonably excited in his bosom.
After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet.Conscious that the common people were in general unfavourable to thecause he had espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure a horseand guide to Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, if not the mainbody, of the Chevalier's army, he approached the alehouse of the place.There was a great noise within; he paused to listen. A round Englishoath or two, and the burden of a campaign song, convinced him thehamlet also was occupied by the Duke of Cumberland's soldiers.Endeavouring to retire from it as softly as possible, and blessing theobscurity which hitherto he had murmured against, Waverley groped hisway the best he could along a small paling, which seemed the boundaryof some cottage garden. As he reached the gate of this littleenclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by that of a female, whosevoice at the same time uttered, 'Edward, is't thou, man?'
'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, but gently,to disengage himself.
'Naen o' thy foun, now, man, or the red cwoats will hear thee; they haebeen houlerying and poulerying every ane that past alehouse door thisnoight to make them drive their waggons and sick loike. Come intofeyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'
'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through the littlegarden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself to kindle amatch at an expiring fire, and with the match to light a candle. Shehad no sooner looked on Edward than she dropped the light, with ashrill scream of 'O feyther, feyther!'
The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared--a sturdy old farmer, in apair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on without stockings, havingjust started from his bed; the rest of his dress was only aWestmoreland statesman's robe-de-chambre--that is, his shirt. Hisfigure was displayed to advantage by a candle which he bore in his lefthand; in his right he brandished a poker.
'What hast ho here, wench?'
'O!' cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, 'I thought itwas Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men.'
'And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this time o'noight?' To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous class ofquestions more easily asked than answered, the rosy-cheeked damsel madeno reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her hands.
'And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town? dost ho knowthat, mon? ad, they'll sliver thee loike a turnip, mon.'
'I know my life is in great danger,' said Waverley, 'but if you canassist me, I will reward you handsomely. I am no Scotchman, but anunfortunate English gentleman.'
'Be ho Scot or no,' said the honest farmer, 'I wish thou hadst kept theother side of the hallan. But since thou art here, Jacob Jopson willbetray no man's bluid; and the plaids were gay canny, and did not do somuch mischief when they were here yesterday.' Accordingly, he setseriously about sheltering and refreshing our hero for the night. Thefire was speedily rekindled, but with precaution against its lightbeing seen from without. The jolly yeoman cut a rasher of bacon, whichCicely soon broiled, and her father added a swingeing tankard of hisbest ale. It was settled that Edward should remain there till thetroops marched in the morning, then hire or buy a horse from thefarmer, and, with the best directions that could be obtained, endeavourto overtake his friends. A clean, though coarse, bed received him afterthe fatigues of this unhappy day.
With the morning arrived the news that the Highlanders had evacuatedPenrith, and marched off towards Carlisle; that the Duke of Cumberlandwas in possession of Penrith, and that detachments of his army coveredthe roads in every direction. To attempt to get through undiscoveredwould be an act of the most frantic temerity. Ned Williams (the rightEdward) was now called to council by Cicely and her father. Ned, whoperhaps did not care that his handsome namesake should remain too longin the same house with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes,proposed that Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dressof the country, should go with him to his father's farm near Ullswater,and remain in that undisturbed retirement until the military movementsin the country should have ceased to render his departure hazardous. Aprice was also agreed upon, at which the stranger might board withFarmer Williams if he thought proper, till he could depart with safety.It was of moderate amount; the distress of his situation, among thishonest and simple-hearted race, being considered as no reason forincreasing their demand.
The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured, and, byfollowing by-paths known to the young farmer, they hoped to escape anyunpleasant rencontre. A recompense for their hospitality was refusedperemptorily by old Jopson and his cherry-cheeked daughter; a kiss paidthe one and a hearty shake of the hand the other. Both seemed anxiousfor their guest's safety, and took leave of him with kind wishes.
In the course of their route Edward, with his guide, traversed thosefields which the night before had been the scene of action. A briefgleam of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath, which, towardsthe spot where the great north-west road entered the enclosures of LordLonsdale's property, exhibited dead bodies of men and horses, and theusual companions of war, a number of carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens.
'And this, then, was thy last field,' said Waverley to himself, his eyefilling at the recollection of the many splendid points of Fergus'scharacter, and of their former intimacy, all his passions andimperfections forgotten--'here fell the last Vich Ian Vohr, on anameless heath; and in an obscure night-skirmish was quenched thatardent spirit, who thought it little to cut a way for his master to theBritish throne! Ambition, policy, bravery, all far beyond their sphere,here learned the fate of mortals. The sole support, too, of a sisterwhose spirit, as proud and unbending, was even more exalted than thineown; here ended all thy hopes for Flora, and the long and valued linewhich it was thy boast to raise yet more highly by thy adventurousvalour!'
As these ideas pressed on Waverley's mind, he resolved to go upon theopen heath and search if, among the slain, he could discover the bodyof his friend, with the pious intention of procuring for him the lastrites of sepulture. The timorous young man who accompanied himremonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, but Edward was determined.The followers of the camp had already stripped the dead of all theycould carry away; but the country people, unused to scenes of blood,had not yet approached the field of action, though some stood fearfullygazing at a distance. About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain withinthe first enclosure, upon the highroad, and on the open moor. Of theHighlanders, not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who, venturingtoo far on the moor, could not regain the strong ground. He could notfind the body of Fergus among the slain. On a little knoll, separatedfrom the others, lay the carcasses of three English dragoons, twohorses, and the page Callum Beg, whose hard skull a trooper'sbroadsword had, at length, effectually cloven. It was possible his clanhad carried off the body of Fergus; but it was also possible he hadescaped, especially as Evan Dhu, who would never leave his Chief, wasnot found among the dead; or he might be prisoner, and the lessformidable denunciation inferred from the appearance of the Bodach Glasmight have proved the true one. The approach of a party sent for thepurpose of compelling the country people to bury the dead, and who hadalready assembled se
veral peasants for that purpose, now obliged Edwardto rejoin his guide, who awaited him in great anxiety and fear undershade of the plantations.
After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey washappily accomplished. At the house of Farmer Williams, Edward passedfor a young kinsman, educated for the church, who was come to residethere till the civil tumults permitted him to pass through the country.This silenced suspicion among the kind and simple yeomanry ofCumberland, and accounted sufficiently for the grave manners andretired habits of the new guest. The precaution became more necessarythan Waverley had anticipated, as a variety of incidents prolonged hisstay at Fasthwaite, as the farm was called.
A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for morethan ten days. When the roads began to become a little practicable,they successively received news of the retreat of the Chevalier intoScotland; then, that he had abandoned the frontiers, retiring uponGlasgow; and that the Duke of Cumberland had formed the siege ofCarlisle. His army, therefore, cut off all possibility of Waverley'sescaping into Scotland in that direction. On the eastern border MarshalWade, with a large force, was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all alongthe frontier, parties of militia, volunteers, and partizans were inarms to suppress insurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from theHighland army as had been left in England. The surrender of Carlisle,and the severity with which the rebel garrison were threatened, soonformed an additional reason against venturing upon a solitary andhopeless journey through a hostile country and a large army, to carrythe assistance of a single sword to a cause which seemed altogetherdesperate. In this lonely and secluded situation, without the advantageof company or conversation with men of cultivated minds, the argumentsof Colonel Talbot often recurred to the mind of our hero. A still moreanxious recollection haunted his slumbers--it was the dying look andgesture of Colonel Gardiner. Most devoutly did he hope, as the rarelyoccurring post brought news of skirmishes with various success, that itmight never again be his lot to draw his sword in civil conflict. Thenhis mind turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolatesituation of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, to that ofRose Bradwardine, who was destitute of the devoted enthusiasm ofloyalty, which to her friend hallowed and exalted misfortune. Thesereveries he was permitted to enjoy, undisturbed by queries orinterruption; and it was in many a winter walk by the shores ofUllswater that he acquired a more complete mastery of a spirit tamed byadversity than his former experience had given him; and that he felthimself entitled to say firmly, though perhaps with a sigh, that theromance of his life was ended, and that its real history had nowcommenced. He was soon called upon to justify his pretensions by reasonand philosophy.