The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity.  However, he drew a long breath, took a long snuff, and observed, since they had brought him so far, he could not pass the Colonel’s gate, and he would be happy to see the new master of his old tenants.  He alighted accordingly, as did the other gentlemen and ladies; he gave his arm to his daughter, and as they descended the avenue pointed out to her how speedily the ’Diva Pecunia of the Southron —­their tutelary deity, he might call her—­had removed the marks of spoliation.’

In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, but, their stumps being grubbed up and the earth round them levelled and sown with grass, every mark of devastation, unless to an eye intimately acquainted with the spot, was already totally obliterated.  There was a similar reformation in the outward man of Davie Gellatley, who met them, every now and then stopping to admire the new suit which graced his person, in the same colours as formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served Touchstone himself.  He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first to the Baron and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes, crying, ‘Bra’, bra’ Davie,’ and scarce able to sing a bar to an end of his thousand-and-one songs for the breathless extravagance of his joy.  The dogs also acknowledged their old master with a thousand gambols.  ’Upon my conscience, Rose,’ ejaculated the Baron, ‘the gratitude o’ thae dumb brutes and of that puir innocent brings the tears into my auld een, while that schellum Malcolm—­but I’m obliged to Colonel Talbot for putting my hounds into such good condition, and likewise for puir Davie.  But, Rose, my dear, we must not permit them to be a life-rent burden upon the estate.’

As he spoke, Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her husband, met the party at the lower gate with a thousand welcomes.  After the ceremony of introduction had been gone through, much abridged by the ease and excellent breeding of Lady Emily, she apologised for having used a little art to wile them back to a place which might awaken some painful reflections—­’But as it was to change masters, we were very desirous that the Baron—­’

‘Mr. Bradwardine, madam, if you please,’ said the old gentleman.

’—­Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley should see what we have done towards restoring the mansion of your fathers to its former state.’

The Baron answered with a low bow.  Indeed, when he entered the court, excepting that the heavy stables, which had been burnt down, were replaced by buildings of a lighter and more picturesque appearance, all seemed as much as possible restored to the state in which he had left it when he assumed arms some months before.  The pigeon-house was replenished; the fountain played with its usual activity, and not only the bear who predominated over its basin, but all the other bears whatsoever, were replaced on their several stations, and renewed or repaired with so much