------ A darker departure is near, The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
Campbell.
After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle.But he paced it long in every direction before the hour when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were opened and the drawbridge lowered.He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted.
The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment in the central part of the Castle---a huge old tower, supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII.'s time, or somewhat later.The grating of the large old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison to fling himself into his friend's arms.
``My dear Edward,'' he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice, ``this is truly kind.I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest pleasure.And how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend the Baron? Well, I trust, since I see you at *******.---And how will you settle precedence between the three ermines passant and the bear and boot-jack?''
``How, O how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a moment!''
``Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure---on the 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers.But I am no boy, to sit down and weep because the luck has gone against me.I knew the stake which I risked;we played the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid manfully.
And now, since my time is short, let me come to the questions that interest me most---The Prince? has he escaped the blood-hounds?''
``He has, and is in safety.''
``Praised be God for that! Tell me the particulars of his escape.''
Waverley communicated that remarkable history so far as it had then transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest.
He then asked after several other friends; and made many minute inquiries concerning the fate of his own clansmen.They had suffered less than other tribes who had been engaged in the affair; for, having in a great measure dispersed and returned home after the captivity of their Chieftain, according to the universal custom of the Highlanders, they were not in arms when the insurrection was finally suppressed, and consequently were treated with less rigour.This Fergus heard with great satisfaction.
``You are rich,'' he said, ``Waverley, and you are generous.
When you hear of these poor Mac-lvors being distressed about their miserable possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of government, remember you have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their race.The Baron, who knows our manners, and lives near our country, will apprize you of the time and means to be their protector.Will you promise this to the last Vich Ian Vohr?''
Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which he afterwards so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in these glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.
``Would to God,'' continued the Chieftain, ``I could bequeath to you my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave race:---or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of his life upon their terms, and be to you what he has been to me, the kindest---the bravest---the most devoted''------The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for that of his foster-brother.
``But,'' said he, drying them, ``that cannot be.You cannot be to them Vich Ian Vohr; and these three magic words,'' said he, half smiling, ``are the only _Open Sesame_ to their feelings and sympathies, and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in death, as he has done through his whole life.''
``And I am sure,'' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor, on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lain so still, that in the obscurity of the apartment Edward was not aware of his presence---``I am sure Evan never desired or deserved a better end than just to die with his Chieftain.''
``And now,'' said Fergus, ``while we are upon the subject of clanship---what think you now of the prediction of the Bodach Glas?''---Then, before Edward could answer, ``I saw him again last night---he stood in the slip of moonshine which fell from that high and narrow window towards my bed.Why should Ifear him, I thought---to-morrow, long ere this time, I shall be as immaterial as he.`False Spirit!' I said, `art thou come to close thy walks on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the last descendant of thine enemy!' The spectre seemed to beckon and to smile as he faded from my sight.What do you think of it?---I asked the same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man; he admitted that the church allowed that such apparitions were possible, but urged me not to permit my mind to dwell upon it, as imagination plays us such strange tricks.What do you think of it?''
``Much as your confessor,'' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute upon such a point at such a moment.A tap at the door now announced that good man, and Edward retired while he administered to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode which the Church of Rome prescribes.
In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file of soldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from the legs of the prisoners.
``You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and courage---we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legs are cramped into palsy, and when they free us, they send six soldiers with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm!''
