Still the days went by, and nothing was done. Still the Prince halted in Edinburgh waiting for reinforcements which never came. He was always hopeful that more clans would declare for him or that other forces would be raised in the Lowlands or in England. And meanwhile, chiefly because in the city there was nothing for them to do, plans and plots were being formed. Quarrellings and jealousies became the order of the day among the troops of the White Cockade. One morning Fergus Mac-Ivor came in to Edward's lodgings, furious with anger because the Prince had refused him two requests,—one, to make good his right to be an Earl, and the other, to give his consent to his marriage with Rose Bradwardine. Fergus must wait for the first, the Prince had told him, because that would offend a chief of his own name and of greater power, who was still hesitating whether or not to declare for King James. As for Rose Bradwardine, neither must he think of her. Her affections were already engaged. The Prince knew this privately, and, indeed, had promised already to favour the match upon which her heart was set.
As for Edward himself, he began about this time to think less and less of the cruelty of Flora Mac-Ivor. He could not have the moon, that was clear—and he was not a child to go on crying for it. It was evident, also, that Rose Bradwardine liked him, and her marked favour, and her desire to be with him, had their effect upon a heart still sore from Flora's repeated and haughty rejections.
One of the last things Edward was able to do in Edinburgh, was to obtain from the Prince the release of Colonel Talbot, whom he saw safely on his way to London from the port of Leith. After that it was with actual relief that Edward found the period of waiting in Edinburgh at last at an end, and the Prince's army to the number of six thousand men marching southward into England. All was now to be hazarded on the success of a bold push for London.
The Highlanders easily escaped a superior army encamped on the borders. They attacked and took Carlisle on their way, and at first it seemed as if they had a clear path to the capital before them. Fergus, who marched with his clan in the van of the Prince's army, never questioned their success for a moment. But Edward's clearer eye and greater knowledge of the odds made no such mistake.
He saw that few joined them, and those men of no great weight, while all the time the forces of King George were daily increasing. Difficulties of every kind arose about them the farther they marched from their native land. Added to which there were quarrels and dissensions among the Prince's followers, those between his Irish officers and such Highland chiefs as Fergus being especially bitter.
Even to Edward, Fergus became fierce and sullen, quite unlike his former gay and confident self. It was about Flora that the quarrel, long smouldering, finally broke into flame. As they passed this and that country-seat, Fergus would always ask if the house were as large as Waverley-Honour, and whether the estate or the deer park were of equal size. Edward had usually to reply that they were not nearly so great. Whereupon Fergus would remark that in that case Flora would be a happy woman.
"But," said Waverley, who tired of the implied obligation, "you forget Miss Flora has refused me, not once, but many times. I am therefore reluctantly compelled to resign all claims upon her hand."
At this, Fergus thought fit to take offence, saying that having once made application for Flora's hand, Waverley had no right to withdraw from his offer without the consent of her guardian. Edward replied that so far as he was concerned, the matter was at an end. He would never press himself upon any lady who had repeatedly refused him.
Whereupon, Fergus turned away furiously, and the quarrel was made. Edward betook himself to the camp of his old friend, the Baron, and, as he remembered the instruction he had received in the dragoons, he became easily a leader and a great favourite among the Lowland cavalry which followed the old soldier Bradwardine.
But he had left seeds of bitter anger behind him in the camp of the proud clan he had quitted.
Some of the Lowland officers warned him of his danger, and Evan Dhu, the Chief's foster-brother—who, ever since the visit to the cave had taken a liking to Edward—waited for him secretly in a shady place and bade him beware. The truth was that the Clan Mac-Ivor had taken it into their heads that Edward had somehow slighted their Lady Flora. They saw that the Chief's brow was dark against Edward, and therefore he became all at once fair game for a bullet or a stab in the dark.
And the first of these was not long in arriving.
And here (I concluded) is the end of the fifth tale.
"Go on—oh—go on!" shouted all the four listeners in chorus; "we don't want to play or to talk, just now. We want to know what happened."
"Very well, then," said I, "then the next story shall be called 'Black Looks and Bright Swords.'"
Carrying out which resolve we proceeded at once to the telling of
THE SIXTH TALE FROM "WAVERLEY"
BLACK LOOKS AND BRIGHT SWORDS
It was in the dusk of an avenue that Evan Dhu had warned Waverley to beware, and ere he had reached the end of the long double line of trees, a pistol cracked in the covert, and a bullet whistled close past his ear.
"There he is," cried Edward's attendant, a stout Merseman of the Baron's troop; "it's that devil's brat, Callum Beg."
And Edward, looking through the trees, could make out a figure running hastily in the direction of the camp of the Mac-Ivors.
Instantly Waverley turned his horse, and rode straight up to Fergus.
"Colonel Mac-Ivor," he said, without any attempt at salutation, "I have to inform you that one of your followers has just attempted to murder me by firing upon me from a lurking-place."
"Indeed!" said the Chief, haughtily; "well, as that, save in the matter of the lurking-place, is a pleasure I presently propose for myself, I should be glad to know which of my clansmen has dared to anticipate me."
"I am at your service when you will, sir," said Edward, with equal pride, "but in the meantime the culprit was your page, Callum Beg."
"Stand forth, Callum Beg," cried Vich Ian Vohr; "did you fire at Mr. Waverley?"
"No," said the unblushing Callum.
"You did," broke in Edward's attendant, "I saw you as plain as ever I saw Coudingham kirk!"
"You lie!" returned Callum, not at all put out by the accusation. But his Chief demanded Callum's pistol. The hammer was down. The pan and muzzle were black with smoke, the barrel yet warm. It had that moment been fired.
"Take that!" cried the Chief, striking the boy full on the head with the metal butt; "take that, for daring to act without orders and then lying to disguise it."
Callum made not the slightest attempt to escape the blow, and fell as if he had been slain on the spot.
"And now, Mr. Waverley," said the Chief, "be good enough to turn your horse twenty yards with me out upon the common. I have a word to say to you."
Edward did so, and as soon as they were alone, Fergus fiercely charged him with having thrown aside his sister Flora in order to pay his court to Rose Bradwardine, whom, as he knew, Fergus had chosen for his own bride.
"It was the Prince—the Prince himself who told me!" added Fergus, noticing the astonishment on Edward's face.
"Did the Prince tell you that I was engaged to Miss Rose Bradwardine?" cried Edward.
"He did—this very morning," shouted Fergus; "he gave it as a reason for a second time refusing my request. So draw and defend yourself, or resign once and forever all claims to the lady."
"In such a matter I will not be dictated to by you or any man living!" retorted Waverley, growing angry in his turn.
In a moment swords were out and a fierce combat was beginning, when a number of Bradwardine's cavalry, who being Lowlanders were always at feud with the Highlandmen,