Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in
contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in spite 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 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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