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
Waverley's next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble would despatch a
man and horse to----, the post-town at which Colonel Talbot was to
address him, with directions to wait there until the post should
bring a letter for Mr. Stanley, and then to forward it to Little
Veolan with all speed. In a moment the Bailie was in search of his
apprentice (or servitor, as he was called Sixty Years Since), Jock
Scriever, and in not much greater space of time Jock was on the
back of the white pony. 'Tak care ye guide him weel, sir, for he's
aye been short in the wind since--ahem--Lord be gude to me! (in a
low voice), I was gaun to come out wi'--since I rode whip and spur
to fetch the Chevalier to redd Mr. Wauverley and Vich lan Vohr;
and an uncanny coup I gat for my pains. Lord forgie your honour! I
might hae broken my neck; but troth it was in a venture, mae ways
nor ane; but this maks amends for a'. Lady Wauverley! ten thousand
a year! Lord be gude unto me!'
'But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the Baron's consent--the
lady's--'
'Never fear, I'se be caution for them; I'se gie you my personal
warrandice. Ten thousand a year! it dings Balmawhapple out and
out--a year's rent's worth a' Balmawhapple, fee and life-rent!
Lord make us thankful!'
To turn the current of his feelings, Edward inquired if he had
heard anything lately of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich.
'Not one word,' answered Macwheeble, 'but that he was still in
Carlisle Castle, and was soon to be panelled for his life. I dinna
wish the young gentleman ill,' he said, 'but I hope that they that
hae got him will keep him, and no let him back to this Hieland
border to plague us wi' black-mail and a' manner o' violent,
wrongous, and masterfu' oppression and spoliation, both by himself
and others of his causing, sending, and hounding out; and he
couldna tak care o' the siller when he had gotten it neither, but
flung it a' into yon idle quean's lap at Edinburgh; but light come
light gane. For my part, I never wish to see a kilt in the country
again, nor a red-coat, nor a gun, for that matter, unless it were
to shoot a paitrick; they're a' tarr'd wi' ae stick. And when they
have done ye wrang, even when ye hae gotten decreet of spuilzie,
oppression, and violent profits against them, what better are ye?
They hae na a plack to pay ye; ye need never extract it.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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