As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, Colonel Talbot rose with apparent displeasure, and said, with some sternness, ’I think, Mr. Waverley, my own apartment, and the hour, might have secured even a prisoner against’—­

’Do not say intrusion, Colonel Talbot; I heard you breathe hard, and feared you were ill; that alone could have induced me to break in upon you.’

‘I am well,’ said the Colonel, ‘perfectly well.’

‘But you are distressed,’ said Edward:  ‘is there anything can be done?’

’Nothing, Mr. Waverley:  I was only thinking of home, and of some unpleasant occurrences there.’

‘Good God, my uncle!’ exclaimed Waverley.

’No,—­it is a grief entirely my own.  I am ashamed you should have seen it disarm me so much; but it must have its course at times, that it may be at others more decently supported.  I would have kept it secret from you; for I think it will grieve you, and yet you can administer no consolation.  But you have surprised me,—­I see you are surprised yourself,—­and I hate mystery.  Read that letter.

The letter was from Colonel Talbot’s sister, and in these words: 

’I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges.  Sir E. W. and Mr. R. are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London.  I wish to Heaven I could give you as good an account of matters in the square.  But the news of the unhappy affair at Preston came upon us, with the dreadful addition that you were among the fallen.  You know Lady Emily’s state of health, when your friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave her.  She was much harassed with the sad accounts from Scotland of the rebellion having broken out; but kept up her spirits as, she said, it became your wife, and for the sake of the future heir, so long hoped for in vain.  Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now ended!  Notwithstanding all my watchful care, this unhappy rumour reached her without preparation.  She was taken ill immediately; and the poor infant scarce survived its birth.  Would to God this were all!  But although the contradiction of the horrible report by your own letter has greatly revived her spirits, yet Dr—­apprehends, I grieve to say, serious, and even dangerous, consequences to her health, especially from the uncertainty in which she must necessarily remain for some time, aggravated by the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of those with whom you are a prisoner.

Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you, endeavour to gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way that is practicable.  I do not exaggerate Lady Emily’s state of health; but I must not—­dare not—­suppress the truth.—­Ever, my dear Philip, your most affectionate sister, ‘Lucy talbot.’

Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter; for the conclusion was inevitable, that by the Colonel’s journey in quest of him, he had incurred this heavy calamity.  It was severe enough, even in its irremediable part; for Colonel Talbot and Lady Emily, long without a family, had fondly exulted in the hopes which were now blasted.  But this disappointment was nothing to the extent of the threatened evil; and Edward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both.