had divided it from the
wooded glen in which the old tower of Tully-Veolan was situated. He then
jumped down into the bed of the stream, and, followed by Waverley,
proceeded at a great pace, climbing over some fragments of rock and
turning with difficulty round others. They passed beneath the ruins of
the castle; Waverley followed, keeping up with his guide with difficulty,
for the twilight began to fall. Following the descent of the stream a
little lower, he totally lost him, but a twinkling light which he now
discovered among the tangled copse-wood and bushes seemed a surer guide.
He soon pursued a very uncouth path; and by its guidance at length
reached the door of a wretched hut. A fierce barking of dogs was at first
heard, but it stilled at his approach. A voice sounded from within, and
he held it most prudent to listen before he advanced.

'Wha hast thou brought here, thou unsonsy villain, thou?' said an old
woman, apparently in great indignation. He heard Davie Gellatley in
answer whistle a part of the tune by which he had recalled himself to the
simpleton's memory, and had now no hesitation to knock at the door. There
was a dead silence instantly within, except the deep growling of the
dogs; and he next heard the mistress of the hut approach the door, not
probably for the sake of undoing a latch, but of fastening a bolt. To
prevent this Waverley lifted the latch himself.

In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaiming, 'Wha comes into
folk's houses in this gate, at this time o' the night?' On one side, two
grim and half-starved deer greyhounds laid aside their ferocity at his
appearance, and seemed to recognise him. On the other side, half
concealed by the open door, yet apparently seeking that concealment
reluctantly, with a cocked pistol in his right hand and his left in the
act of drawing another from his belt, stood a tall bony gaunt figure in
the remnants of a faded uniform and a beard of three weeks' growth. It
was the Baron of Bradwardine. It is unnecessary to add, that he threw
aside his weapon and greeted Waverley with a hearty embrace.

CHAPTER XXXV

COMPARING OF NOTES

Thearon's story was short, when divested of the adages and commonplaces,
Latin, English, and Scotch, with which his erudition garnished it. He
insisted much upon his grief at the loss of Edward and of Glennaquoich,
fought the fields of Falkirk and Culloden, and related how, after all was
lost in the last battle, he