a sense of personal importance; and, upon any check or accidental excitation, a sudden, though transient lour of the eye, showed a hasty, haughty, and vindictive temper, not less to be dreaded because it seemed much under its owner’s command.  In short, the countenance of the Chieftain resembled a smiling summer’s day, in which, notwithstanding, we are made sensible by certain, though slight signs, that it may thunder and lighten before the close of evening.

It was not, however, upon their first meeting that Edward had an opportunity of making these less favourable remarks.  The Chief received him as a friend of the Baron of Bradwardine, with the utmost expression of kindness and obligation for the visit; upbraided him gently with choosing so rude an abode as he had done the night before; and entered into a lively conversation with him about Donald Bean’s housekeeping, but without the least hint as to his predatory habits, or the immediate occasion of Waverley’s visit, a topic which, as the Chief did not introduce it, our hero also avoided.  While they walked merrily on towards the house of Glennaquoich, Evan, who now fell respectfully into the rear, followed with Callum Beg and Dugald Mahony.

We shall take the opportunity to introduce the reader to some particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor’s character and history, which were not completely known to Waverley till after a connexion, which, though arising from a circumstance so casual, had for a length of time the deepest influence upon his character, actions, and prospects.  But this, being an important subject, must form the commencement of a new chapter.

CHAPTER XIX

THE CHIEF AND HIS MANSION

The ingenious licentiate, Francisco de Ubeda, when he commenced his history of La Picara Justina Diez,—­which, by the way, is one of the most rare books of Spanish literature,—­complained of his pen having caught up a hair, and forthwith begins, with more eloquence than common sense, an affectionate expostulation with that useful implement, upbraiding it with being the quill of a goose,—­a bird inconstant by nature, as frequenting the three elements of water, earth, and air, indifferently, and being, of course, ‘to one thing constant never.’  Now I protest to thee, gentle reader, that I entirely dissent from Francisco de Ubeda in this matter, and hold it the most useful quality of my pen, that it can speedily change from grave to gay, and from description and dialogue to narrative and character.  So that, if my quill display no other properties of its mother-goose than her mutability, truly I shall be well pleased; and I conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have no occasion for discontent.  From the jargon, therefore, of the Highland gillies, I pass to the character of their Chief.  It is an important examination, and therefore, like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom.