‘Your intentions may be kind, sir,’ said Waverley, drily; ’but your language is harsh, or at least peremptory.’

‘On my return to England,’ continued Colonel Talbot, ’after long absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody of a king’s messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon him by your conduct.  He is my oldest friend—­how often shall I repeat it?—­my best benefactor! he sacrificed his own views of happiness to mine; he never uttered a word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence itself might not have thought or spoken.  I found this man in confinement, rendered harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural dignity of feeling, and—­forgive me, Mr. Waverley—­by the cause through which this calamity had come upon him.  I cannot disguise from you my feelings upon this occasion; they were most painfully unfavorable to you.  Having by my family interest, which you probably know is not inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard’s release, I set out for Scotland.  I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable.  In the course of conversation with him I found that, from late circumstances, from a reexamination of the persons engaged in the mutiny, and from his original good opinion of your character, he was much softened towards you; and I doubted not that, if I could be so fortunate as to discover you, all might yet be well.  But this unnatural rebellion has ruined all.  I have, for the first time in a long and active military life, seen Britons disgrace themselves by a panic flight, and that before a foe without either arms or discipline.  And now I find the heir of my dearest friend—­ the son, I may say, of his’ affections—­sharing a triumph for which he ought the first to have blushed.  Why should I lament Gardiner? his lot was happy compared to mine!’

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot’s manner, such a mixture of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir Everard’s imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that Edward stood mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence of the prisoner who owed to him his life not many hours before.  He was not sorry when Fergus interrupted their conference a second time.

‘His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley’s attendance.’  Colonel Talbot threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not escape the quick eye of the Highland Chief.  ’His immediate attendance,’ he repeated, with considerable emphasis.  Waverley turned again towards the Colonel.

‘We shall meet again,’ he said; ’in the meanwhile, every possible accommodation—­’

‘I desire none,’ said the Colonel; ’let me fare like the meanest of those brave men who, on this day of calamity, have preferred wounds and captivity to flight; I would almost exchange places with one of those who have fallen to know that my words have made a suitable impression on your mind.’