CHAPTER LXI
A JOURNEY TO LONDON
Theamily at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Edward. He had, indeed,that gentleness and urbanity which almost universally attractscorresponding kindness; and to their simple ideas his learning gave himconsequence, and his sorrows interest. The last he ascribed, evasively,to the loss of a brother in the skirmish near Clifton; and in thatprimitive state of society, where the ties of affection were highlydeemed of, his continued depression excited sympathy, but not surprise.
In the end of January his more lively powers were called out by thehappy union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with CicelyJopson. Our hero would not cloud with sorrow the festivity attendingthe wedding of two persons to whom he was so highly obliged. Hetherefore exerted himself, danced, sung, played at the various games ofthe day, and was the blithest of the company. The next morning,however, he had more serious matters to think of.
The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased withthe supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith onpurpose to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling chapter hadhe entered into any examination of our hero's supposed theologicalstudies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate thenews of the day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, inone of which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon renderedhim deaf to every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying uponthe news from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedilyovertaking and crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, ornearly these words:--
'Died at his house, in Hill Street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10thinst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley ofWaverley-Honour, etc. etc. He died of a lingering disorder, augmentedby the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, havingbeen obliged to find bail to a high amount to meet an impendingaccusation of high-treason. An accusation of the same grave crime hangsover his elder brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative ofthat ancient family; and we understand the day of his trial will befixed early in the next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of thedeceased Richard, and heir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself tojustice. In that case we are assured it is his Majesty's graciouspurpose to drop further proceedings upon the charge against SirEverard. This unfortunate young gentleman is ascertained to have beenin arms in the Pretender's service, and to have marched along with theHighland troops into England. But he has not been heard of since theskirmish at Clifton, on the 18th December last.'
Such was this distracting paragraph. 'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley,'am I then a parricide? Impossible! My father, who never showed theaffection of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affectedby my supposed death as to hasten his own; no, I will not believe it,it were distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea. Butit were, if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to hangover my noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me than afather, if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!'
While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions throughWaverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a longdisquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness which theycommunicated to his looks, and asked him if he was ill? Fortunately thebride, all smirk and blush, had just entered the room. Mrs. Williamswas none of the brightest of women, but she was good-natured, andreadily concluding that Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news inthe papers, interfered so judiciously, that, without excitingsuspicion, she drew off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it untilhe soon after took his leave. Waverley then explained to his friendsthat he was under the necessity of going to London with as little delayas possible.
One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had been verylittle accustomed. His purse, though well stocked when he first went toTully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that period; and althoughhis life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hastily, for hehad lived chiefly with his friends or with the army, yet he found that,after settling with his kind landlord, he should be too poor toencounter the expense of travelling post. The best course, therefore,seemed to be to get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, andthere take a place in the northern diligence, a huge old-fashioned tub,drawn by three horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh toLondon (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks.Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberlandfriends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hopedene day to acknowledge by substantial proofs of gratitude. After somepetty difficulties and vexatious delays, and after putting his dressinto a shape better befitting his rank, though perfectly plain andsimple, he accomplished crossing the country, and found himself in thedesired vehicle vis-a-vis to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of LieutenantNosebag, adjutant and riding-master of the--dragoons, a jolly woman ofabout fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping asilver-mounted horse-whip.
This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon themfaire lefrais de la conversation. She had just returned from the north,and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had cut the petticoatpeople into ribands at Falkirk, 'only somehow there was one of thosenasty, awkward marshes, that they are never without in Scotland, Ithink, and so our poor dear little regiment suffered something, as myNosebag says, in that unsatisfactory affair. You, sir, have served inthe dragoons?' Waverley was taken so much at unawares that heacquiesced.
'O, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air, and I wassure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my Nosebag calls them.What regiment, pray?' Here was a delightful question. Waverley,however, justly concluded that this good lady had the whole army-listby heart; and, to avoid detection by adhering to truth, answered,'Gardiner's dragoons, ma'am; but I have retired some time.'
'O aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my Nosebagsays. Pray, sir, were you there?'
'I was so unfortunate, madam,' he replied, 'as to witness thatengagement.'
'And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to witness, Ibelieve, sir--ha! ha! ha! I beg your pardon; but a soldier's wife lovesa joke.'
'Devil confound you,' thought Waverley: 'what infernal luck has pennedme up with this inquisitive hag!'
Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject. 'We arecoming to Ferrybridge now,' she said, 'where there was a party of OURSleft to support the beadles, and constables, and justices, and thesesort of creatures that are examining papers and stopping rebels, andall that.' They were hardly in the inn before she dragged Waverley tothe window, exclaiming, 'Yonder comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poordear troop; he's coming with the constable man. Bridoon's one of mylambs, as Nosebag calls 'ern. Come, Mr.--a--a--pray, what's your name,sir?'
'Butler, ma'am,' said Waverley, resolved rather to make free with thename of a former fellow-officer than run the risk of detection byinventing one not to be found in the regiment.
'O, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley, wentover to the rebels? Lord, I wish our old cross Captain Crump would goover to the rebels, that Nosebag might get the troop! Lord, what canBridoon be standing swinging on the bridge for? I'll be hanged if hea'nt hazy, as Nosebag says. Come, sir, as you and I belong to theservice, we'll go put the rascal in mind of his duty.'
Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, sawhimself obliged to follow this doughty female commander. The gallanttrooper was as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of dragoons, about sixfeet high, with very broad shoulders, and very thin legs, not tomention a great scar across his nose, could well be. Mrs. Nosebagaddressed him with something which, if not an oath, sounded very likeone, and commanded him to attend to his duty. 'You be d--d for a ----,'commenced the gallant cavalier; but, looking up in order to suit theaction to the words, and also to enforce the epithet which he meditatedwith an adjective applicable to the party, he recognised the speaker,made his military sala
am, and altered his tone. 'Lord love yourhandsome face, Madam Nosebag, is it you? Why, if a poor fellow doeshappen to fire a slug of a morning, I am sure you were never the ladyto bring him to harm.'
'Well, you rascallion, go, mind your duty; this gentleman and I belongto the service; but be sure you look after that shy cock in theslouched hat that sits in the corner of the coach. I believe he's oneof the rebels in disguise.'
'D--n her gooseberry wig,' said the corporal, when she was out ofhearing, 'that gimlet-eyed jade--mother adjutant, as we call her--is agreater plague to the regiment than provost-marshal, sergeant-major,and old Hubble-de-Shuff, the colonel, into the bargain. Come, MasterConstable, let's see if this shy cock, as she calls him (who, by theway, was a Quaker from Leeds, with whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tartargument on the legality of bearing arms), will stand godfather to asup of brandy, for your Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach.'
The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this scrape,was like to have drawn him into one or two others. In every town wherethey stopped she wished to examine the corps de garde, if there wasone, and once very narrowly missed introducing Waverley to arecruiting-sergeant of his own regiment. Then she Captain'd andButler'd him till he was almost mad with vexation and anxiety; andnever was he more rejoiced in his life at the termination of a journeythan when the arrival of the coach in London freed him from theattentions of Madam Nosebag.