Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1Scott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,
peradventure, sui juris,--foris-familiated, that is, and entitled,
it may be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, in
this poor Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is
quasi mine, being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I
am in loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathless. And
for you, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple, I warn ye, let me see no
more aberrations from the paths of good manners.'
'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine and
Tully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman in huge disdain, 'that I'll
make a moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be a
crop-eared English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane wha
deserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover.'
In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate
passes exchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; but
the Baron, infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like Sir
Toby Belch, have tickled his opponent other gates than he did had
he not been under the influence of Ursa Major.
Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but the
prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he
stumbled, intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened to be
in this recumbent posture at so interesting a moment was never
accurately known. Some thought he was about to insconce himself
under the table; he himself alleged that he stumbled in the act of
lifting a joint-stool, to prevent mischief, by knocking down
Balmawhapple. Be that as it may, if readier aid than either his or
Waverley's had not interposed, there would certainly have been
bloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords, which was no
stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as she sat
quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of the cottage,
with eyes employed on Boston's 'Crook the Lot,' while her ideas
were engaged in summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in,
with the shrill expostulation, 'Wad their honours slay ane another
there, and bring discredit on an honest widow-woman's house, when
there was a' the lee-land in the country to fight upon?' a
remonstrance which she seconded by flinging her plaid with great
dexterity over the weapons of the combatants. The servants by this
time rushed in, and being, by great chance, tolerably sober,
separated the incensed opponents, with the assistance of Edward
and Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple, cursing,
swearing, and vowing revenge against every Whig, Presbyterian, and
fanatic in England and Scotland, from John-o'-Groat's to the
Land's End, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our hero, with
the assistance of Saunders Saunderson, escorted the Baron of
Bradwardine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail upon him to
retire to bed until he had made a long and learned apology for the
events of the evening, of which, however, there was not a word
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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