Chapter Chapter 34 · THINGS MEND A LITTLE

. THINGS MEND A LITTLE

About noon Mr. Morton returned and brought an invitation from Major

Melville that Mr. Waverley would honour him with his company to dinner,

notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which detained him at

Cairnvreckan, from which he should heartily rejoice to see Mr. Waverley

completely extricated. The truth was that Mr. Morton’s favourable

report and opinion had somewhat staggered the preconceptions of the old

soldier concerning Edward’s supposed accession to the mutiny in the

regiment; and in the unfortunate state of the country the mere

suspicion of disaffection or an inclination to join the insurgent

Jacobites might infer criminality indeed, but certainly not dishonour.

Besides, a person whom the Major trusted had reported to him (though,

as it proved, inaccurately) a contradiction of the agitating news of

the preceding evening. According to this second edition of the

intelligence, the Highlanders had withdrawn from the Lowland frontier

with the purpose of following the army in their march to Inverness. The

Major was at a loss, indeed, to reconcile his information with the

well-known abilities of some of the gentlemen in the Highland army, yet

it was the course which was likely to be most agreeable to others. He

remembered the same policy had detained them in the north in the year

1715, and he anticipated a similar termination to the insurrection as

upon that occasion.

This news put him in such good-humour that he readily acquiesced in Mr.

Morton’s proposal to pay some hospitable attention to his unfortunate

guest, and voluntarily added, he hoped the whole affair would prove a

youthful escapade, which might be easily atoned by a short confinement.

The kind mediator had some trouble to prevail on his young friend to

accept the invitation. He dared not urge to him the real motive, which

was a good-natured wish to secure a favourable report of Waverley’s

case from Major Melville to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the

flashes of our hero’s spirit, that touching upon this topic would be

sure to defeat his purpose. He therefore pleaded that the invitation

argued the Major’s disbelief of any part of the accusation which was

inconsistent with Waverley’s conduct as a soldier and a man of honour,

and that to decline his courtesy might be interpreted into a

consciousness that it was unmerited. In short, he so far satisfied

Edward that the manly and proper course was to meet the Major on easy

terms that, suppressing his strong dislike again to encounter his cold

and punctilious civility, Waverley agreed to be guided by his new

friend.

The meeting at first was stiff and formal enough. But Edward, having

accepted the invitation, and his mind being really soothed and relieved

by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to behave with ease,

though he could not affect cordiality. The Major was somewhat of a bon

vivant, and his wine was excellent. He told his old campaign stories,

and displayed much knowledge of men and manners. Mr. Morton had an

internal fund of placid and quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to

enliven any small party in which he found himself pleasantly seated.

Waverley, whose life was a dream, gave ready way to the predominating

impulse and became the most lively of the party. He had at all times

remarkable natural powers of conversation, though easily silenced by

discouragement. On the present occasion he piqued himself upon leaving

on the minds of his companions a favourable impression of one who,

under such disastrous circumstances, could sustain his misfortunes with

ease and gaiety. His spirits, though not unyielding, were abundantly

elastic, and soon seconded his efforts. The trio were engaged in very

lively discourse, apparently delighted with each other, and the kind

host was pressing a third bottle of Burgundy, when the sound of a drum

was heard at some distance. The Major, who, in the glee of an old

soldier, had forgot the duties of a magistrate, cursed, with a muttered

military oath, the circumstances which recalled him to his official

functions. He rose and went towards the window, which commanded a very

near view of the highroad, and he was followed by his guests.

The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a kind of

rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles the

slumbering artizans of a Scotch burgh. It is the object of this history

to do justice to all men; I must therefore record, in justice to the

drummer, that he protested he could beat any known march or point of

war known in the British army, and had accordingly commenced with

“Dumbarton’s Drums,” when he was silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the

commander of the party, who refused to permit his followers to move to

this profane, and even, as he said, persecutive tune, and commanded the

drummer to beat the 119th Psalm. As this was beyond the capacity of the

drubber of sheepskin, he was fain to have recourse to the inoffensive

row-de-dow as a harmless substitute for the sacred music which his

instrument or skill were unable to achieve. This may be held a trifling

anecdote, but the drummer in question was no less than town-drummer of

Anderton. I remember his successor in office, a member of that

enlightened body, the British Convention. Be his memory, therefore,

treated with due respect.