’His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it wipes from your character all those suspicions which gave the accusation against you a complexion of a nature different from that with which so many unfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in arms against the government, may be justly charged.  Their treason —­I must give it its name, though you participate in its guilt—­is an action arising from mistaken virtue, and therefore cannot be classed as a disgrace, though it be doubtless highly criminal.  Where the guilty are so numerous, clemency must be extended to far the greater number; and I have little doubt of procuring a remission for you, providing we can keep you out of the claws of justice till she has selected and gorged upon her victims; for in this, as in other cases, it will be according to the vulgar proverb, “First come, first served.”  Besides, government are desirous at present to intimidate the English Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for punishment.  This is a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon wear off, for of all nations the English are least blood-thirsty by nature.  But it exists at present, and you must therefore be kept out of the way in the mean-time.’

Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance.  By his regimental acquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and found her full of ire, fuss, and fidget at discovery of an impostor who had travelled from the north with her under the assumed name of Captain Butler of Gardiner’s dragoons.  She was going to lodge an information on the subject, to have him sought for as an emissary of the Pretender; but Spontoon (an old soldier), while he pretended to approve, contrived to make her delay her intention.  No time, however, was to be lost:  the accuracy of this good dame’s description might probably lead to the discovery that Waverley was the pretended Captain Butler, an identification fraught with danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle, and even to Colonel Talbot.  Which way to direct his course was now, therefore, the question.

‘To Scotland,’ said Waverley.

‘To Scotland?’ said the Colonel; ’with what purpose? not to engage again with the rebels, I hope?’

’No; I considered my campaign ended when, after all my efforts, I could not rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone to make a winter campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents as I am would rather be burdensome than useful.  Indeed, it seems likely that they only prolong the war to place the Chevalier’s person out of danger, and then to make some terms for themselves.  To burden them with my presence would merely add another party, whom they would not give up and could not defend.  I understand they left almost all their English adherents in garrison at Carlisle, for that very reason.  And on a more general view, Colonel, to confess the truth, though it may lower me in your opinion, I am heartly tired of the trade of war, and am, as Fletcher’s Humorous Lieutenant says, “even as weary of this fighting-’”