This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to set both down to the prejudices of his commanding-officer.  He was sensible that Mr. Bradwardine had acted with the most scrupulous delicacy, in never entering upon any discussion that had the most remote tendency to bias his mind in political opinions, although he was himself not only a decided partisan of the exiled family, but had been trusted at different times with important commissions for their service.  Sensible, therefore, that there was no risk of his being perverted from his allegiance, Edward felt as if he should do his uncle’s old friend injustice in removing from a house where he gave and received pleasure and amusement, merely to gratify a prejudiced and ill-judged suspicion, He therefore wrote a very general answer, assuring his commanding-officer that his loyalty was not in the most distant danger of contamination, and continued an honoured guest and inmate of the house of Tully-Veolan.

CHAPTER XV

A creagh, and its consequences [A creagh was an incursion for plunder, termed on the Borders a raid.]

When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veolan nearly six weeks, he descried one morning, as he took his usual walk before the breakfast-hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in the family.  Four bare-legged dairymaids, with each an empty milk-pail in her hand, ran about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud exclamations of surprise, grief, and resentment.  From their appearance, a pagan might have conceived them a detachment of the celebrated Belides, just come from their baling penance.  As nothing was to be got from this distracted chorus, excepting ‘Lord guide us!’ and ‘Eh, sirs!’ ejaculations which threw no light upon the cause of their dismay, Waverley repaired to the forecourt, as it was called, where he beheld Bailie Macwheeble cantering his white pony down the avenue with all the speed it could muster.  He had arrived, it would seem, upon a hasty summons and was followed by half a score of peasants from the village, who had no great difficulty in keeping pace with him.

The Bailie, greatly too busy, and too important, to enter into explanations with Edward, summoned forth Mr. Saunderson, who appeared with a countenance in which dismay was mingled with solemnity, and they immediately entered into close conference.  Davie Gellatley was also seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at Sinope, while his countrymen were preparing for a siege.  His spirits always rose with anything, good or bad, which occasioned tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping, dancing, and singing the burden of an old ballad,

     Our gear’s a’ gane,

until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an admonitory hint from his horsewhip, which converted his songs into lamentation.