by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXXIII
A CONFIDANT
Waverley awoke in the morning from troubled dreams and unrefreshingslumbers to a full consciousness of the horrors of his situation. Howit might terminate he knew not. He might be delivered up to militarylaw, which, in the midst of civil war, was not likely to be scrupulousin the choice of its victims or the quality of the evidence. Nor did hefeel much more comfortable at the thoughts of a trial before a Scottishcourt of justice, where he knew the laws and forms differed in manyrespects from those of England, and had been taught to believe, howevererroneously, that the liberty and rights of the subject were lesscarefully protected. A sentiment of bitterness rose in his mind againstthe government, which he considered as the cause of his embarrassmentand peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulous rejection ofMac-Ivor's invitation to accompany him to the field.
'Why did not I,' he said to himself, 'like other men of honour, takethe earliest opportunity to welcome to Britain the descendant of herancient 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 ofWaverley has been founded upon their loyal faith to the house ofStuart. From the interpretation which this Scotch magistrate has putupon the letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that I ought tohave understood them as marshalling me to the course of my ancestors;and it has been my gross dulness, joined to the obscurity of expressionwhich they adopted for the sake of security, that has confounded myjudgment. Had I yielded to the first generous impulse of indignationwhen I learned that my honour was practised upon, how different hadbeen 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 amhere, 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 adungeon or the infamy of a public execution. O, Fergus! how true hasyour prophecy proved; and how speedy, how very speedy, has been itsaccomplishment!'
While Edward was ruminating on these painful subjects of contemplation,and very naturally, though not quite so justly, bestowing upon thereigning dynasty that blame which was due to chance, or, in part atleast, to his own unreflecting conduct, Mr. Morton availed himself ofMajor Melville's permission to pay him an early visit.
Waverley's first impulse was to intimate a desire that he might not bedisturbed with questions or conversation; but he suppressed it uponobserving the benevolent and reverend appearance of the clergyman whohad rescued him from the immediate violence of the villagers.
'I believe, sir,' said the unfortunate young man,'that in any othercircumstances I should have had as much gratitude to express to you asthe safety of my life may be worth; but such is the present tumult ofmy 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 goodopinion, his only wish and the sole purpose of his visit was to findout the means of deserving it. 'My excellent friend, Major Melville,'he continued, 'has feelings and duties as a soldier and publicfunctionary by which I am not fettered; nor can I always coincide inopinions which he forms, perhaps with too little allowance for theimperfections of human nature.' He paused and then proceeded: 'I do notintrude myself on your confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the purpose oflearning any circumstances the knowledge of which can be prejudicialeither to yourself or to others; but I own my earnest wish is that youwould intrust me with any particulars which could lead to yourexculpation. I can solemnly assure you they will be deposited with afaithful 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 mightdistrust your friendly professions in my case; but I have observed thatsimilar prejudices are nourished in this country against yourprofessional brethren of the Episcopal persuasion, and I am willing tobelieve them equally unfounded in both cases.'
'Evil to him that thinks otherwise,' said Mr. Morton; 'or who holdschurch government and ceremonies as the exclusive gage of Christianfaith or moral virtue.'
'But,' continued Waverley, 'I cannot perceive why I should trouble youwith a detail of particulars, out of which, after revolving them ascarefully as possible in my recollection, I find myself unable toexplain much of what is charged against me. I know, indeed, that I aminnocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prove myself so.'
'It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley,' said the clergyman, 'that Iventure to solicit your confidence. My knowledge of individuals in thiscountry is pretty general, and can upon occasion be extended. Yoursituation will, I fear, preclude your taking those active steps forrecovering intelligence or tracing imposture which I would willinglyundertake 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 hisreposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so far as he himself was concerned,could hurt neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Fergus Mac-Ivor, both of whomhad openly assumed arms against the government, and that it mightpossibly, if the professions of his new friend corresponded insincerity with the earnestness of his expression, be of some service tohimself. He therefore ran briefly over most of the events with whichthe reader is already acquainted, suppressing his attachment to Flora,and indeed neither mentioning her nor Rose Bradwardine in the course ofhis narrative.
Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the account of Waverley'svisit to Donald Bean Lean. 'I am glad,' he said, 'you did not mentionthis circumstance to the Major. It is capable of great misconstructionon the part of those who do not consider the power of curiosity and theinfluence of romance as motives of youthful conduct. When I was a youngman like you, Mr. Waverley, any such hair-brained expedition (I begyour pardon for the expression) would have had inexpressible charms forme. But there are men in the world who will not believe that danger andfatigue are often incurred without any very adequate cause, andtherefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of action entirelyforeign to the truth. This man Bean Lean is renowned through thecountry as a sort of Robin Hood, and the stories which are told of hisaddress and enterprise are the common tales of the winter fireside. Hecertainly 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 duringthe period of these unhappy commotions.' Mr. Morton then made a carefulmemorandum of the various particulars of Waverley's interview withDonald 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 coldnessof Major Melville had taught to believe that the world was leagued tooppress him. He shook Mr. Morton warmly by the hand, and, assuring himthat 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 familywho had both gratitude and the power of displaying it. The earnestnessof his thanks called drops to the eyes of the worthy clergyman, who wasdoubly interested in the cause for which he had volunteered hisservices, by observing the genuine and undissembled feelings of hisyoung friend.
Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was likely to be hisdestination.
'Stirling Castle,' replied his friend; 'and so far I am well pleasedfor your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and humanity. But Iam more doubtful of your treatment upon the road; Major Melville isinvoluntarily obliged to intrust the custody of your person to another.'
'I am glad of it,' answered Waverley. 'I detest that cold-bloodedcalculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall never meet more.He had neit
her sympathy with my innocence nor with my wretchedness; andthe petrifying accuracy with which he attended to every form ofcivility, while he tortured me by his questions, his suspicions, andhis inferences, was as tormenting as the racks of the Inquisition. Donot 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 stateprisoner as I am.'
'I believe a person called Gilfillan, one of the sect who are termedCameronians.'
'I never heard of them before.'
'They claim,' said the clergyman, 'to represent the more strict andsevere 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 conventiclesin the open fields, and, being treated with great violence and crueltyby the Scottish government, more than once took arms during thosereigns. They take their name from their leader, Richard Cameron.'
'I recollect,' said Waverley; 'but did not the triumph of Presbytery atthe Revolution extinguish that sect?'
'By no means,' replied Morton; 'that great event fell yet far short ofwhat they proposed, which was nothing less than the completeestablishment of the Presbyterian Church upon the grounds of the oldSolemn League and Covenant. Indeed, I believe they scarce knew whatthey wanted; but being a numerous body of men, and not unacquaintedwith the use of arms, they kept themselves together as a separate partyin the state, and at the time of the Union had nearly formed a mostunnatural league with their old enemies the Jacobites to oppose thatimportant national measure. Since that time their numbers havegradually diminished; but a good many are still to be found in thewestern counties, and several, with a better temper than in 1707, havenow taken arms for government. This person, whom they call GiftedGilfillan, has been long a leader among them, and now heads a smallparty, which will pass here to-day or to-morrow on their march towardsStirling, under whose escort Major Melville proposes you shall travel.I would willingly speak to Gilfillan in your behalf; but, having deeplyimbibed all the prejudices of his sect, and being of the same fiercedisposition, he would pay little regard to the remonstrances of anErastian divine, as he would politely term me. And now, farewell, myyoung friend; for the present I must not weary out the Major'sindulgence, that I may obtain his permission to visit you again in thecourse of the day.'