The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased with the supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith on purpose to pay him a visit.  This might have been a puzzling chapter had he entered into any examination of our hero’s supposed theological studies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate the news of the day.  He brought with him two or three old newspapers, in one of which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him deaf to every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the news from the north, and the prospect of the Duke’s speedily overtaking and crushing the rebels.  This was an article in these, or nearly these words:—­

’Died at his house, in Hill Street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10th inst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley of Waverley-Honour, etc. etc.  He died of a lingering disorder, augmented by the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, having been obliged to find bail to a high amount to meet an impending accusation of high-treason.  An accusation of the same grave crime hangs over his elder brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient family; and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early in the next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, and heir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice.  In that case we are assured it is his Majesty’s gracious purpose to drop further proceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard.  This unfortunate young gentleman is ascertained to have been in arms in the Pretender’s service, and to have marched along with the Highland troops into England.  But he has not been heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, on the 18th December last.’

Such was this distracting paragraph.  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Waverley, ’am I then a parricide?  Impossible!  My father, who never showed the affection of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affected by my supposed death as to hasten his own; no, I will not believe it, it were distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea.  But it were, if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to hang over my noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me than a father, if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!’

While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions through Waverley’s sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a long disquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness which they communicated to his looks, and asked him if he was ill?  Fortunately the bride, all smirk and blush, had just entered the room.  Mrs. Williams was none of the brightest of women, but she was good-natured, and readily concluding that Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in the papers, interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, she drew off Mr. Twigtythe’s attention, and engaged it until he soon after took his leave.  Waverley then explained to his friends that he was under the necessity of going to London with as little delay as possible.