While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the windows of the parlour, a well-known voice. “I aver to you, my worthy friend,” said the speaker, “that it is a total dereliction of military discipline; and were you not as it were a _tyro_, your purpose would deserve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is on no account to be coerced with fetters, or debinded _in ergastulo_, as would have been the case had you put this gentleman into the pit of the peel-house at Balmawhapple. I grant, indeed, that such a prisoner may for security be coerced _in carcere_, that is, in a public prison.” The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in displeasure, but the word “land-louper” alone was distinctly audible. He had disappeared before Waverley reached the house in order to greet the worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform in which he was now attired, a blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed to have added fresh stiffness and rigidity to his tall, perpendicular figure; and the consciousness of military command and authority had increased, in the same proportion, the self-importance of his demeanour and the dogmatism of his conversation. He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed immediate anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances attending the loss of his commission in Gardiner’s dragoons; “not,” he said, “that he had the least apprehension of his young friend having done aught which could merit such ungenerous treatment as he had received from government, but because it was right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should be, in point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so much right to regard as his own son.”