ille to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the flashes
of our hero's spirit, that touching upon this topic would be sure to
defeat his purpose. He therefore pleaded that the invitation argued the
Major's disbelief of any part of the accusation which was inconsistent
with Waverley's conduct as a soldier and a man of honour, and that to
decline his courtesy might be interpreted into a consciousness that it
was unmerited. In short, he so far satisfied Edward that the manly and
proper course was to meet the Major on easy terms that, suppressing his
strong dislike again to encounter his cold and punctilious civility,
Waverley agreed to be guided by his new friend.

The meeting at first was stiff and formal enough. But Edward, having
accepted the invitation, and his mind being really soothed and relieved
by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to behave with ease, though
he could not affect cordiality. The Major was somewhat of a bon vivant,
and his wine was excellent. He told his old campaign stories, and
displayed much knowledge of men and manners. Mr. Morton had an internal
fund of placid and quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven any small
party in which he found himself pleasantly seated. Waverley, whose life
was a dream, gave ready way to the predominating impulse and became the
most lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable natural powers
of conversation, though easily silenced by discouragement. On the present
occasion he piqued himself upon leaving on the minds of his companions a
favourable impression of one who, under such disastrous circumstances,
could sustain his misfortunes with ease and gaiety. His spirits, though
not unyielding, were abundantly elastic, and soon seconded his efforts.
The trio were engaged in very lively discourse, apparently delighted with
each other, and the kind host was pressing a third bottle of Burgundy,
when the sound of a drum was heard at some distance. The Major, who, in
the glee of an old soldier, had forgot the duties of a magistrate,
cursed, with a muttered military oath, the circumstances which recalled
him to his official functions. He rose and went towards the window, which
commanded a very near view of the highroad, and he was followed by his
guests.

The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a kind of
rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles the slumbering
artizans of a Scotch burgh. It is the object of this history to