The shock which Sir Everard encountered upon this occasion, although diminished by the consciousness of having acted virtuously and generously, had its effect upon his future life.  His resolution of marriage had been adopted in a fit of indignation; the labour of courtship did not quite suit the dignified indolence of his habits; he had but just escaped the risk of marrying a woman who could never love him; and his pride could not be greatly flattered by the termination of his amour, even if his heart had not suffered.  The result of the whole matter was his return to Waverley-Honour without any transfer of his affections, notwithstanding the sighs and languishments of the fair tell-tale, who had revealed, in mere sisterly affection, the secret of Lady Emily’s attachment, and in despite of the nods, winks, and innuendoes of the officious lady mother, and the grave eulogiums which the Earl pronounced successively on the prudence, and good sense, and admirable dispositions, of his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth daughters.  The memory of his unsuccessful amour was with Sir Everard, as with many more of his temper, at once shy, proud, sensitive, and indolent, a beacon against exposing himself to similar mortification, pain, and fruitless exertion for the time to come.  He continued to live at Waverley-Honour in the style of an old English gentleman, of an ancient descent and opulent fortune.  His sister, Miss Rachel Waverley, presided at his table; and they became, by degrees, an old bachelor and an ancient maiden lady, the gentlest and kindest of the votaries of celibacy.

The vehemence of Sir Everard’s resentment against his brother was but short-lived; yet his dislike to the Whig and the placeman, though unable to stimulate him to resume any active measures prejudicial to Richard’s interest in the succession to the family estate, continued to maintain the coldness between them.  Richard knew enough of the world, and of his brother’s temper, to believe that by any ill-considered or precipitate advances on his part, he might turn passive dislike into a more active principle.  It was accident, therefore, which at length occasioned a renewal of their intercourse.  Richard had married a young woman of rank, by whose family interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his career.  In her right, he became possessor of a manor of some value, at the distance of a few miles from Waverley-Honour.

Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth year, was their only child.  It chanced that the infant with his maid had strayed one morning to a mile’s distance from the avenue of Brere-wood Lodge, his father’s seat.  Their attention was attracted by a carriage drawn by six stately long-failed black horses, and with as much carving and gilding as would have done honour to my lord mayor’s.  It was waiting for the owner, who was at a little distance inspecting the progress of a half-built farm-house.  I know not whether the boy’s nurse had been