Chương Chương 37 · WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS

. WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS

The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was hurried

along nearly deprived him of sensation; for the injury he had received

from his fall prevented him from aiding himself so effectually as he

might otherwise have done. When this was observed by his conductors,

they called to their aid two or three others of the party, and,

swathing our hero’s body in one of their plaids, divided his weight by

that means among them, and transported him at the same rapid rate as

before, without any exertion of his own. They spoke little, and that in

Gaelic; and did not slacken their pace till they had run nearly two

miles, when they abated their extreme rapidity, but continued still to

walk very fast, relieving each other occasionally.

Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only answered with

“Cha n’eil Beurl agam” _i.e._ “I have no English,” being, as Waverley

well knew, the constant reply of a Highlander when he either does not

understand or does not choose to reply to an Englishman or Lowlander.

He then mentioned the name of Vich Ian Vohr, concluding that he was

indebted to his friendship for his rescue from the clutches of Gifted

Gilfillan, but neither did this produce any mark of recognition from

his escort.

The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted upon

the brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly enlightened by the

moonbeams, seemed full of trees and tangled brushwood. Two of the

Highlanders dived into it by a small foot-path, as if to explore its

recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes, said something to

his companions, who instantly raised their burden and bore him, with

great attention and care, down the narrow and abrupt descent.

Notwithstanding their precautions, however, Waverley’s person came more

than once into contact, rudely enough, with the projecting stumps and

branches which overhung the pathway.

At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by the side of a brook

(for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of water,

although its stream was invisible in the darkness), the party again

stopped before a small and rudely-constructed hovel. The door was open,

and the inside of the premises appeared as uncomfortable and rude as

its situation and exterior foreboded. There was no appearance of a

floor of any kind; the roof seemed rent in several places; the walls

were composed of loose stones and turf, and the thatch of branches of

trees. The fire was in the centre, and filled the whole wigwam with

smoke, which escaped as much through the door as by means of a circular

aperture in the roof. An old Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of

this forlorn mansion, appeared busy in the preparation of some food. By

the light which the fire afforded Waverley could discover that his

attendants were not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was particularly

strict in requiring from his followers that they should wear the tartan

striped in the mode peculiar to their race; a mark of distinction

anciently general through the Highlands, and still maintained by those

Chiefs who were proud of their lineage or jealous of their separate and

exclusive authority.

Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be aware of a

distinction which he had repeatedly heard noticed, and now satisfied

that he had no interest with his attendants, he glanced a disconsolate

eye around the interior of the cabin. The only furniture, excepting a

washing-tub and a wooden press, called in Scotland an ambry, sorely

decayed, was a large wooden bed, planked, as is usual, all around, and

opening by a sliding panel. In this recess the Highlanders deposited

Waverley, after he had by signs declined any refreshment. His slumbers

were broken and unrefreshing; strange visions passed before his eyes,

and it required constant and reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them.

Shivering, violent headache, and shooting pains in his limbs succeeded

these symptoms; and in the morning it was evident to his Highland

attendants or guard, for he knew not in which light to consider them,

that Waverley was quite unfit to travel.

After a long consultation among themselves, six of the party left the

hut with their arms, leaving behind an old and a young man. The former

addressed Waverley, and bathed the contusions, which swelling and livid

colour now made conspicuous. His own portmanteau, which the Highlanders

had not failed to bring off, supplied him with linen, and to his great

surprise was, with all its undiminished contents, freely resigned to

his use. The bedding of his couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his

aged attendant closed the door of the bed, for it had no curtain, after

a few words of Gaelic, from which Waverley gathered that he exhorted

him to repose. So behold our hero for a second time the patient of a

Highland Esculapius, but in a situation much more uncomfortable than

when he was the guest of the worthy Tomanrait.

The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had sustained

did not abate till the third day, when it gave way to the care of his

attendants and the strength of his constitution, and he could now raise

himself in his bed, though not without pain. He observed, however, that

there was a great disinclination on the part of the old woman who acted

as his nurse, as well as on that of the elderly Highlander, to permit

the door of the bed to be left open, so that he might amuse himself

with observing their motions; and at length, after Waverley had

repeatedly drawn open and they had as frequently shut the hatchway of

his cage, the old gentleman put an end to the contest by securing it on

the outside with a nail so effectually that the door could not be drawn

till this exterior impediment was removed.

While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in persons

whose conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who, in all other

points, appeared to consult his welfare and his wishes, it occurred to

our hero that, during the worst crisis of his illness, a female figure,

younger than his old Highland nurse, had appeared to flit around his

couch. Of this, indeed, he had but a very indistinct recollection, but

his suspicions were confirmed when, attentively listening, he often

heard, in the course of the day, the voice of another female conversing

in whispers with his attendant. Who could it be? And why should she

apparently desire concealment? Fancy immediately aroused herself and

turned to Flora Mac-Ivor. But after a short conflict between his eager

desire to believe she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel

of mercy, the couch of his sickness, Waverley was compelled to conclude

that his conjecture was altogether improbable; since, to suppose she

had left her comparatively safe situation at Glennaquoich to descend

into the Low Country, now the seat of civil war, and to inhabit such a

lurking-place as this, was a thing hardly to be imagined. Yet his heart

bounded as he sometimes could distinctly hear the trip of a light

female step glide to or from the door of the hut, or the suppressed

sounds of a female voice, of softness and delicacy, hold dialogue with

the hoarse inward croak of old Janet, for so he understood his

antiquated attendant was denominated.

Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in

contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in despite of the

sedulous caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he had

never seen the young fellow since the first morning. At length, upon

accurate examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison-house

appeared to supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, for out of a

spot which was somewhat decayed he was able to extract a nail. Through

this minute aperture he could perceive a female form, wrapped in a

plaid, in the act of conversing with Janet. But, since the days of our

grandmother Eve, the gratification of inordinate curiosity has

generally borne its penalty in disappointment. The form was not that of

Flora, nor was the face visible; and, to crown his vexation, while he

laboured with the nail to enlarge the hole, that he might obtain a more

complete view, a slight noise betrayed his purpose, and the object of

his curiosity instantly disappeared, nor, so far as he could observe,

did she again revisit the cottage.

All precautions to blockade his view were from that time abandoned, and

he was not only permitted but assisted to rise, and quit what had been,

in a literal sense, his couch of confinement. But he was not allowed to

leave the hut; for the young Highlander had now rejoined his senior,

and one or other was constantly on the watch. Whenever Waverley

approached the cottage door the sentinel upon duty civilly, but

resolutely, placed himself against it and opposed his exit,

accompanying his action with signs which seemed to imply there was

danger in the attempt and an enemy in the neighbourhood. Old Janet

appeared anxious and upon the watch; and Waverley, who had not yet

recovered strength enough to attempt to take his departure in spite of

the opposition of his hosts, was under the necessity of remaining

patient. His fare was, in every point of view, better than he could

have conceived, for poultry, and even wine, were no strangers to his

table. The Highlanders never presumed to eat with him, and, unless in

the circumstance of watching him, treated him with great respect. His

sole amusement was gazing from the window, or rather the shapeless

aperture which was meant to answer the purpose of a window, upon a

large and rough brook, which raged and foamed through a rocky channel,

closely canopied with trees and bushes, about ten feet beneath the site

of his house of captivity.

Upon the sixth day of his confinement Waverley found himself so well

that he began to meditate his escape from this dull and miserable

prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in the attempt

preferable to the stupefying and intolerable uniformity of Janet’s

retirement. The question indeed occurred, whither he was to direct his

course when again at his own disposal. Two schemes seemed practicable,

yet both attended with danger and difficulty. One was to go back to

Glennaquoich and join Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly

received; and in the present state of his mind, the rigour with which

he had been treated fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his

allegiance to the existing government. The other project was to

endeavour to attain a Scottish seaport, and thence to take shipping for

England. His mind wavered between these plans, and probably, if he had

effected his escape in the manner he proposed, he would have been

finally determined by the comparative facility by which either might

have been executed. But his fortune had settled that he was not to be

left to his option.

Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut suddenly

opened, and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recognised as having

been a part of his original escort to this cottage. They conversed for

a short time with the old man and his companion, and then made Waverley

understand, by very significant signs, that he was to prepare to

accompany them. This was a joyful communication. What had already

passed during his confinement made it evident that no personal injury

was designed to him; and his romantic spirit, having recovered during

his repose much of that elasticity which anxiety, resentment,

disappointment, and the mixture of unpleasant feelings excited by his

late adventures had for a time subjugated, was now wearied with

inaction. His passion for the wonderful, although it is the nature of

such dispositions to be excited by that degree of danger which merely

gives dignity to the feeling of the individual exposed to it, had sunk

under the extraordinary and apparently insurmountable evils by which he

appeared environed at Cairnvreckan. In fact, this compound of intense

curiosity and exalted imagination forms a peculiar species of courage,

which somewhat resembles the light usually carried by a

miner—sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him guidance and

comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but certain to be

extinguished should he encounter the more formidable hazard of earth

damps or pestiferous vapours. It was now, however, once more rekindled,

and with a throbbing mixture of hope, awe, and anxiety, Waverley

watched the group before him, as those who were just arrived snatched a

hasty meal, and the others assumed their arms and made brief

preparations for their departure.

As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire, around

which the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure upon his arm.

He looked round; it was Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. She

showed him a packet of papers in such a manner that the motion was

remarked by no one else, put her finger for a second to her lips, and

passed on, as if to assist old Janet in packing Waverley’s clothes in

his portmanteau. It was obviously her wish that he should not seem to

recognise her, yet she repeatedly looked back at him, as an opportunity

occurred of doing so unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what

she did, she folded the packet with great address and speed in one of

his shirts, which she deposited in the portmanteau.

Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice his unknown warden,

and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that watched his

bed during his sickness? Was he in the hands of her father? and if so,

what was his purpose? Spoil, his usual object, seemed in this case

neglected; for not only Waverley’s property was restored, but his

purse, which might have tempted this professional plunderer, had been

all along suffered to remain in his possession. All this perhaps the

packet might explain; but it was plain from Alice’s manner that she

desired he should consult it in secret. Nor did she again seek his eye

after she had satisfied herself that her manœuvre was observed and

understood. On the contrary, she shortly afterwards left the hut, and

it was only as she tripped out from the door, that, favoured by the

obscurity, she gave Waverley a parting smile and nod of significance

ere she vanished in the dark glen.

The young Highlander was repeatedly despatched by his comrades as if to

collect intelligence. At length, when he had returned for the third or

fourth time, the whole party arose and made signs to our hero to

accompany them. Before his departure, however, he shook hands with old

Janet, who had been so sedulous in his behalf, and added substantial

marks of his gratitude for her attendance.

“God bless you! God prosper you, Captain Waverley!” said Janet, in good

Lowland Scotch, though he had never hithero heard her utter a syllable,

save in Gaelic. But the impatience of his attendants prohibited his

asking any explanation.