Chapter Chapter 27 · UPON THE SAME SUBJECT

. UPON THE SAME SUBJECT

Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the subject

which he had interrupted. His head was, or appeared to be, so full of

guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose that Waverley

could not for some time draw his attention to any other topic.

“Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus,” he asked, “that you are

making all these martial preparations?”

“When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all; but

otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you.”

“But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces, to

rise against an established government? It is mere frenzy.”

“_Laissez faire à Don Antoine_,—I shall take good care of myself. We

shall at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a stroke but

he gave one. I would not, however,” continued the Chieftain, “have you

think me mad enough to stir till a favourable opportunity: I will not

slip my dog before the game’s afoot. But, once more, will you join with

us, and you shall know all?”

“How can I?” said Waverley; “I, who have so lately held that commission

which is now posting back to those that gave it? My accepting it

implied a promise of fidelity, and an acknowledgment of the legality of

the government.”

“A rash promise,” answered Fergus, “is not a steel handcuff, it may be

shaken off, especially when it was given under deception, and has been

repaid by insult. But if you cannot immediately make up your mind to a

glorious revenge, go to England, and ere you cross the Tweed you will

hear tidings that will make the world ring; and if Sir Everard be the

gallant old cavalier I have heard him described by some of our _honest_

gentlemen of the year one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will

find you a better horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.”

“But your sister, Fergus?”

“Out, hyperbolical fiend!” replied the Chief, laughing; “how vexest

thou this man! Speak’st thou of nothing but of ladies?”

“Nay, be serious, my dear friend,” said Waverley; “I feel that the

happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which Miss

Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this morning.”

“And is this your very sober earnest,” said Fergus, more gravely, “or

are we in the land of romance and fiction?”

“My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose me jesting on such a

subject?”

“Then, in very sober earnest,” answered his friend, “I am very glad to

hear it; and so highly do I think of Flora, that you are the only man

in England for whom I would say so much. But before you shake my hand

so warmly, there is more to be considered. Your own family—will they

approve your connecting yourself with the sister of a high-born

Highland beggar?”

“My uncle’s situation,” said Waverley, “his general opinions, and his

uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and personal

qualities are all he would look to in such a connection. And where can

I find both united in such excellence as in your sister?”

“Oh, nowhere! _cela va sans dire_,” replied Fergus, with a smile. “But

your father will expect a father’s prerogative in being consulted.”

“Surely; but his late breach with the ruling powers removes all

apprehension of objection on his part, especially as I am convinced

that my uncle will be warm in my cause.”

“Religion perhaps,” said Fergus, “may make obstacles, though we are not

bigotted Catholics.”

“My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her religion was never

objected to by my family. Do not think of _my_ friends, dear Fergus;

let me rather have your influence where it may be more necessary to

remove obstacles—I mean with your lovely sister.”

“My lovely sister,” replied Fergus, “like her loving brother, is very

apt to have a pretty decisive will of her own, by which, in this case,

you must be ruled; but you shall not want my interest, nor my counsel.

And, in the first place, I will give you one hint—Loyalty is her ruling

passion; and since she could spell an English book she has been in love

with the memory of the gallant Captain Wogan, who renounced the service

of the usurper Cromwell to join the standard of Charles II, marched a

handful of cavalry from London to the Highlands to join Middleton, then

in arms for the king, and at length died gloriously in the royal cause.

Ask her to show you some verses she made on his history and fate; they

have been much admired, I assure you. The next point is—I think I saw

Flora go up towards the waterfall a short time since; follow, man,

follow! don’t allow the garrison time to strengthen its purposes of

resistance. _Alerte à la muraille!_ Seek Flora out, and learn her

decision as soon as you can, and Cupid go with you, while I go to look

over belts and cartouch-boxes.”

Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and throbbing heart. Love,

with all its romantic train of hopes, fears, and wishes, was mingled

with other feelings of a nature less easily defined. He could not but

remember how much this morning had changed his fate, and into what a

complication of perplexity it was likely to plunge him. Sunrise had

seen him possessed of an esteemed rank in the honourable profession of

arms, his father to all appearance rapidly rising in the favour of his

sovereign. All this had passed away like a dream: he himself was

dishonoured, his father disgraced, and he had become involuntarily the

confidant at least, if not the accomplice, of plans, dark, deep, and

dangerous, which must infer either the subversion of the government he

had so lately served or the destruction of all who had participated in

them. Should Flora even listen to his suit favourably, what prospect

was there of its being brought to a happy termination amid the tumult

of an impending insurrection? Or how could he make the selfish request

that she should leave Fergus, to whom she was so much attached, and,

retiring with him to England, wait, as a distant spectator, the success

of her brother’s undertaking, or the ruin of all his hopes and

fortunes? Or, on the other hand, to engage himself, with no other aid

than his single arm, in the dangerous and precipitate counsels of the

Chieftain, to be whirled along by him, the partaker of all his

desperate and impetuous motions, renouncing almost the power of

judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or prudence of his actions,

this was no pleasing prospect for the secret pride of Waverley to stoop

to. And yet what other conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his

addresses by Flora, an alternative not to be thought of in the present

high-wrought state of his feelings with anything short of mental agony.

Pondering the doubtful and dangerous prospect before him, he at length

arrived near the cascade, where, as Fergus had augured, he found Flora

seated.

She was quite alone, and as soon as she observed his approach she rose

and came to meet him. Edward attempted to say something within the

verge of ordinary compliment and conversation, but found himself

unequal to the task. Flora seemed at first equally embarrassed, but

recovered herself more speedily, and (an unfavourable augury for

Waverley’s suit) was the first to enter upon the subject of their last

interview. “It is too important, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley,

to permit me to leave you in doubt on my sentiments.”

“Do not speak them speedily,” said Waverley, much agitated, “unless

they are such as I fear, from your manner, I must not dare to

anticipate. Let time—let my future conduct—let your brother’s

influence—”

“Forgive me, Mr. Waverley,” said Flora, her complexion a little

heightened, but her voice firm and composed. “I should incur my own

heavy censure did I delay expressing my sincere conviction that I can

never regard you otherwise than as a valued friend. I should do you the

highest injustice did I conceal my sentiments for a moment. I see I

distress you, and I grieve for it, but better now than later; and O,

better a thousand times, Mr. Waverley, that you should feel a present

momentary disappointment than the long and heart-sickening griefs which

attend a rash and ill-assorted marriage!”

“Good God!” exclaimed Waverley, “why should you anticipate such

consequences from a union where birth is equal, where fortune is

favourable, where, if I may venture to say so, the tastes are similar,

where you allege no preference for another, where you even express a

favourable opinion of him whom you reject?”

“Mr. Waverley, I _have_ that favourable opinion,” answered Flora; “and

so strongly that, though I would rather have been silent on the grounds

of my resolution, you shall command them, if you exact such a mark of

my esteem and confidence.”

She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, placing himself

near her, anxiously pressed for the explanation she offered.

“I dare hardly,” she said, “tell you the situation of my feelings, they

are so different from those usually ascribed to young women at my

period of life; and I dare hardly touch upon what I conjecture to be

the nature of yours, lest I should give offence where I would willingly

administer consolation. For myself, from my infancy till this day I

have had but one wish—the restoration of my royal benefactors to their

rightful throne. It is impossible to express to you the devotion of my

feelings to this single subject; and I will frankly confess that it has

so occupied my mind as to exclude every thought respecting what is

called my own settlement in life. Let me but live to see the day of

that happy restoration, and a Highland cottage, a French convent, or an

English palace will be alike indifferent to me.”

“But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for the exiled

family inconsistent with my happiness?”

“Because you seek, or ought to seek, in the object of your attachment a

heart whose principal delight should be in augmenting your domestic

felicity and returning your affection, even to the height of romance.

To a man of less keen sensibility, and less enthusiastic tenderness of

disposition, Flora Mac-Ivor might give content, if not happiness; for,

were the irrevocable words spoken, never would she be deficient in the

duties which she vowed.”

“And why,—why, Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think yourself a more valuable

treasure to one who is less capable of loving, of admiring you, than to

me?”

“Simply because the tone of our affections would be more in unison, and

because his more blunted sensibility would not require the return of

enthusiasm which I have not to bestow. But you, Mr. Waverley, would for

ever refer to the idea of domestic happiness which your imagination is

capable of painting, and whatever fell short of that ideal

representation would be construed into coolness and indifference, while

you might consider the enthusiasm with which I regarded the success of

the royal family as defrauding your affection of its due return.”

“In other words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me?” said her suitor

dejectedly.

“I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, than any man

I have ever seen; but I cannot love you as you ought to be loved. O! do

not, for your own sake, desire so hazardous an experiment! The woman

whom you marry ought to have affections and opinions moulded upon

yours. Her studies ought to be your studies; her wishes, her feelings,

her hopes, her fears, should all mingle with yours. She should enhance

your pleasures, share your sorrows, and cheer your melancholy.”

“And why will not you, Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so well describe a happy

union, why will not you be yourself the person you describe?”

“Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me?” answered Flora. “Have I

not told you that every keener sensation of my mind is bent exclusively

towards an event upon which, indeed, I have no power but those of my

earnest prayers?”

“And might not the granting the suit I solicit,” said Waverley, too

earnest on his purpose to consider what he was about to say, “even

advance the interest to which you have devoted yourself? My family is

wealthy and powerful, inclined in principles to the Stuart race, and

should a favourable opportunity—”

“A favourable opportunity!” said Flora—somewhat scornfully. “Inclined

in principles! Can such lukewarm adherence be honourable to yourselves,

or gratifying to your lawful sovereign? Think, from my present

feelings, what I should suffer when I held the place of member in a

family where the rights which I hold most sacred are subjected to cold

discussion, and only deemed worthy of support when they shall appear on

the point of triumphing without it!”

“Your doubts,” quickly replied Waverley, “are unjust as far as concerns

myself. The cause that I shall assert, I dare support through every

danger, as undauntedly as the boldest who draws sword in its behalf.”

“Of that,” answered Flora, “I cannot doubt for a moment. But consult

your own good sense and reason rather than a prepossession hastily

adopted, probably only because you have met a young woman possessed of

the usual accomplishments in a sequestered and romantic situation. Let

your part in this great and perilous drama rest upon conviction, and

not on a hurried and probably a temporary feeling.”

Waverley attempted to reply, but his words failed him. Every sentiment

that Flora had uttered vindicated the strength of his attachment; for

even her loyalty, although wildly enthusiastic, was generous and noble,

and disdained to avail itself of any indirect means of supporting the

cause to which she was devoted.

After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus resumed

the conversation.—“One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere we bid farewell to

this topic for ever; and forgive my boldness if that word have the air

of advice. My brother Fergus is anxious that you should join him in his

present enterprise. But do not consent to this; you could not, by your

single exertions, further his success, and you would inevitably share

his fall, if it be God’s pleasure that fall he must. Your character

would also suffer irretrievably. Let me beg you will return to your own

country; and, having publicly freed yourself from every tie to the

usurping government, I trust you will see cause, and find opportunity,

to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and stand forth, as your

loyal ancestors, at the head of your natural followers and adherents, a

worthy representative of the house of Waverley.”

“And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might I not

hope—”

“Forgive my interruption,” said Flora. “The present time only is ours,

and I can but explain to you with candour the feelings which I now

entertain; how they might be altered by a train of events too

favourable perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain even to conjecture.

Only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after my brother’s honour and

happiness, there is none which I shall more sincerely pray for than for

yours.”

With these words she parted from him, for they were now arrived where

two paths separated. Waverley reached the castle amidst a medley of

conflicting passions. He avoided any private interview with Fergus, as

he did not find himself able either to encounter his raillery or reply

to his solicitations. The wild revelry of the feast, for Mac-Ivor kept

open table for his clan, served in some degree to stun reflection. When

their festivity was ended, he began to consider how he should again

meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the painful and interesting explanation of the

morning. But Flora did not appear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he

was told by Cathleen that her mistress designed to keep her apartment

that evening, went himself in quest of her; but apparently his

remonstrances were in vain, for he returned with a heightened

complexion and manifest symptoms of displeasure. The rest of the

evening passed on without any allusion, on the part either of Fergus or

Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the reflections of the latter,

and perhaps of both.

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to sum up the

business of the day. That the repulse he had received from Flora would

be persisted in for the present, there was no doubt. But could he hope

for ultimate success in case circumstances permitted the renewal of his

suit? Would the enthusiastic loyalty, which at this animating moment

left no room for a softer passion, survive, at least in its engrossing

force, the success or the failure of the present political

machinations? And if so, could he hope that the interest which she had

acknowledged him to possess in her favour might be improved into a

warmer attachment? He taxed his memory to recall every word she had

used, with the appropriate looks and gestures which had enforced them,

and ended by finding himself in the same state of uncertainty. It was

very late before sleep brought relief to the tumult of his mind, after

the most painful and agitating day which he had ever passed.