Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending irony; and
therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain meaning. I
am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son
owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a son; and as I know
there is no manner in which I can requite his kindness so well as by
serving you, I will serve you, if possible, whether you will permit me or
no. The personal obligation which you have this day laid me under
(although, in common estimation, as great as one human being can bestow
on another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that zeal be
abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive it.'

'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but your
language is harsh, or at least peremptory.'

'On my return to England,' continued Colonel Talbot, 'after long absence,
I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody of a king's
messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon him by your
conduct. He is my oldest friend--how often shall I repeat it?--my best
benefactor! he sacrificed his own views of happiness to mine; he never
uttered a word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence itself
might not have thought or spoken. I found this man in confinement,
rendered harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural dignity of
feeling, and--forgive me, Mr. Waverley--by the cause through which this
calamity had come upon him. I cannot disguise from you my feelings upon
this occasion; they were most painfully unfavorable to you. Having by my
family interest, which you probably know is not inconsiderable, succeeded
in obtaining Sir Everard's release, I set out for Scotland. I saw Colonel
Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is sufficient to render this
insurrection for ever execrable. In the course of conversation with him I
found that, from late circumstances, from a reexamination of the persons
engaged in the mutiny, and from his original good opinion of your
character, he was much softened towards you; and I doubted not that, if I
could be so fortunate as to discover you, all might yet be well. But this
unnatural rebellion has ruined all. I have, for the first time in a long
and active military life, seen Britons disgrace themselves by a panic
flight, and that before a foe without either arms or discipline. And now
I find the heir of my dearest friend--the son, I may say, of his'
affections--sharing