Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — CompleteScott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Complete
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
intelligible, except something about the Centaurs and the Lapithae.
CHAPTER XII
REPENTANCE AND A RECONCILIATION
Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of wine, excepting with great
temperance. He slept therefore soundly till late in the succeeding
morning, and then awakened to a painful recollection of the scene of
the preceding evening. He had received a personal affront--he, a
gentleman, a soldier, and a Waverley. True, the person who offered it
was not, at the time it was given, possessed of the moderate share of
sense which nature had allotted him; true also, in resenting this
insult, he would break the laws of Heaven as well as of his country;
true, in doing so, he might take the life of a young man who perhaps
respectably discharged the social duties, and render his family
miserable, or he might lose his own--no pleasant alternative even to
the bravest, when it is debated coolly and in private.
All this pressed on his mind; yet the original statement recurred with
the same irresistible force. He had received a personal insult; he was
of the house of Waverley; and he bore a commission. There was no
alternative; and he descended to the breakfast parlour with the
intention of taking leave of the family, and writing to one of his
brother officers to meet him at the inn midway between Tully-Veolan and
the town where they were quartered, in order that he might convey such
a message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumstances seemed to
demand. He found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee,
the table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and
barleymeal, in the shape of loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other
varieties, together with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton and beef ditto,
smoked salmon, marmalade, and all the other delicacies which induced
even Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a Scotch breakfast above
that of all other countries. A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a
silver jug, which held an equal mixture of cream and butter-milk, was
placed for the Baron's share of this repast; but Rose observed, he had
walked out early in the morning, after giving orders that his guest
should not be disturbed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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