Waverley + Guy Mannering + The Antiquary. Walter Scott

a small sum for the benefit of the wounded person.

      ‘I could wish, sir,’ continued the Major, ‘that my duty terminated here; but it is necessary that we should have some further inquiry into the cause of your journey through the country at this unfortunate and distracted time.’

      Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks now stood forth, and communicated to the magistrate all he knew or suspected from the reserve of Waverley and the evasions of Callum Beg. The horse upon which Edward rode, he said, he knew to belong to Vich Ian Vohr, though he dared not tax Edward’s former attendant with the fact, lest he should have his house and stables burnt over his head some night by that godless gang, the Mac-Ivors. He concluded by exaggerating his own services to kirk and state, as having been the means, under God (as he modestly qualified the assertion), of attaching this suspicious and formidable delinquent. He intimated hopes of future reward, and of instant reimbursement for loss of time, and even of character, by travelling on the state business on the fast-day.

      To this Major Melville answered, with great composure, that so far from claiming any merit in this affair, Mr. Cruickshanks ought to deprecate the imposition of a very heavy fine for neglecting to lodge, in terms of the recent proclamation, an account with the nearest magistrate of any stranger who came to his inn; that, as Mr. Cruickshanks boasted so much of religion and loyalty, he should not impute this conduct to disaffection, but only suppose that his zeal for kirk and state had been lulled asleep by the opportunity of charging a stranger with double horse-hire; that, however, feeling himself incompetent to decide singly upon the conduct of a person of such importance, he should reserve it for consideration of the next quarter-sessions. Now our history for the present saith no more of him of the Candlestick, who wended dolorous and malcontent back to his own dwelling.

      Major Melville then commanded the villagers to return to their homes, excepting two, who officiated as constables, and whom he directed to wait below. The apartment was thus cleared of every person but Mr. Morton, whom the Major invited to remain; a sort of factor, who acted as clerk; and Waverley himself. There ensued a painful and embarrassed pause, till Major Melville, looking upon Waverley with much compassion, and often consulting a paper or memorandum which he held in his hand, requested to know his name.

      ‘Edward Waverley.’

      ‘I thought so; late of the — dragoons, and nephew of Sir Everard Waverley of Waverley-Honour?’

      ‘The same.’

      ‘Young gentleman, I am extremely sorry that this painful duty has fallen to my lot.’

      ‘Duty, Major Melville, renders apologies superfluous.’

      ‘True, sir; permit me, therefore, to ask you how your time has been disposed of since you obtained leave of absence from your regiment, several weeks ago, until the present moment?’

      ‘My reply,’ said Waverley, ‘to so general a question must be guided by the nature of the charge which renders it necessary. I request to know what that charge is, and upon what authority I am forcibly detained to reply to it?’

      ‘The charge, Mr. Waverley, I grieve to say, is of a very high nature, and affects your character both as a soldier and a subject. In the former capacity you are charged with spreading mutiny and rebellion among the men you commanded, and setting them the example of desertion, by prolonging your own absence from the regiment, contrary to the express orders of your commanding officer. The civil crime of which you stand accused is that of high treason and levying war against the king, the highest delinquency of which a subject can be guilty.’

      ‘And by what authority am I detained to reply to such heinous calumnies?’

      ‘By one which you must not dispute, nor I disobey.’

      He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme Criminal Court of Scotland, in full form, for apprehending and securing the person of Edward Waverley, Esq., suspected of treasonable practices and other high crimes and misdemeanours.

      The astonishment which Waverley expressed at this communication was imputed by Major Melville to conscious guilt, while Mr. Morton was rather disposed to construe it into the surprise of innocence unjustly suspected. There was something true in both conjectures; for although Edward’s mind acquitted him of the crime with which he was charged, yet a hasty review of his own conduct convinced him he might have great difficulty in establishing his innocence to the satisfaction of others.

      ‘It is a very painful part of this painful business,’ said Major Melville, after a pause, ‘that, under so grave a charge, I must necessarily request to see such papers as you have on your person.’

      ‘You shall, sir, without reserve,’ said Edward, throwing his pocket-book and memorandums upon the table; ‘there is but one with which I could wish you would dispense.’

      ‘I am afraid, Mr. Waverley, I can indulge you with no reservation,’

      ‘You shall see it then, sir; and as it can be of no service, I beg it may be returned.’

      He took from his bosom the lines he had that morning received, and presented them with the envelope. The Major perused them in silence, and directed his clerk to make a copy of them. He then wrapped the copy in the envelope, and placing it on the table before him, returned the original to Waverley, with an air of melancholy gravity.

      After indulging the prisoner, for such our hero must now be considered, with what he thought a reasonable time for reflection, Major Melville resumed his examination, premising that, as Mr. Waverley seemed to object to general questions, his interrogatories should be as specific as his information permitted. He then proceeded in his investigation, dictating, as he went on, the import of the questions and answers to the amanuensis, by whom it was written down.

      ‘Did Mr. Waverley know one Humphry Houghton, a non-commissioned officer in Gardiner’s dragoons?’

      ‘Certainly; he was sergeant of my troop, and son of a tenant of my uncle.’

      ‘Exactly — and had a considerable share of your confidence, and an influence among his comrades?’

      ‘I had never occasion to repose confidence in a person of his description,’ answered Waverley. ‘I favoured Sergeant Houghton as a clever, active young fellow, and I believe his fellow-soldiers respected him accordingly.’

      ‘But you used through this man,’ answered Major Melville, ‘to communicate with such of your troop as were recruited upon Waverley-Honour?’

      ‘Certainly; the poor fellows, finding themselves in a regiment chiefly composed of Scotch or Irish, looked up to me in any of their little distresses, and naturally made their countryman and sergeant their spokesman on such occasions.’

      ‘Sergeant Houghton’s influence,’ continued the Major, ‘extended, then, particularly over those soldiers who followed you to the regiment from

      your uncle’s estate?’

      ‘Surely; but what is that to the present purpose?’

      ‘To that I am just coming, and I beseech your candid reply. Have you, since leaving the regiment, held any correspondence, direct or indirect, with this Sergeant Houghton?’

      ‘I! — I hold correspondence with a man of his rank and situation! How, or for what purpose?’

      ‘That you are to explain. But did you not, for example, send to him for some books?’

      ‘You remind me of a trifling commission,’ said Waverley, ‘which I gave Sergeant Houghton, because my servant could not read. I do recollect I bade him, by letter, select some books, of which I sent him a list, and send them to me at Tully-Veolan.’

      ‘And of what description were those books?’

      ‘They related almost entirely to elegant literature; they were designed for a lady’s perusal.’

      ‘Were there not, Mr. Waverley, treasonable tracts and pamphlets among them?’

      ‘There were some political treatises, into which I hardly looked. They had