Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2Scott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
Edward found him in his office, immersed among papers and
accounts. Before him was a large bicker of oatmeal porridge, and
at the side thereof a horn spoon and a bottle of two-penny.
Eagerly running his eye over a voluminous law-paper, he from time
to time shovelled an immense spoonful of these nutritive viands
into his capacious mouth. A pot-bellied Dutch bottle of brandy
which stood by intimated either that this honest limb of the law
had taken his morning already, or that he meant to season his
porridge with such digestive; or perhaps both circumstances might
reasonably be inferred. His night-cap and morning-gown, had
whilome been of tartan, but, equally cautious and frugal, the
honest Bailie had got them dyed black, lest their original ill-
omened colour might remind his visitors of his unlucky excursion
to Derby. To sum up the picture, his face was daubed with snuff up
to the eyes, and his fingers with ink up to the knuckles. He
looked dubiously at Waverley as he approached the little green
rail which fenced his desk and stool from the approach of the
vulgar. Nothing could give the Bailie more annoyance than the idea
of his acquaintance being claimed by any of the unfortunate
gentlemen who were now so much more likely to need assistance than
to afford profit. But this was the rich young Englishman; who knew
what might be his situation? He was the Baron's friend too; what
was to be done?
While these reflections gave an air of absurd perplexity to the
poor man's visage, Waverley, reflecting on the communication he
was about to make to him, of a nature so ridiculously contrasted
with the appearance of the individual, could not help bursting out
a-laughing, as he checked the propensity to exclaim with Syphax--
Cato's a proper person to intrust
A love-tale with.
As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laughing heartily who
was either encircled by peril or oppressed by poverty, the
hilarity of Edward's countenance greatly relieved the
embarrassment of his own, and, giving him a tolerably hearty
welcome to Little Veolan, he asked what he would choose for
breakfast. His visitor had, in the first place, something for his
private ear, and begged leave to bolt the door. Duncan by no means
liked this precaution, which savoured of danger to be apprehended;
but he could not now draw back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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