rriage is utterly out of question, there need be no hurry, you know,
about the earldom." And so he glided off and left me plante la.'

'And what did you do?'

'I'll tell you what I COULD have done at that moment--sold myself to the
devil or the Elector, whichever offered the dearest revenge. However, I
am now cool. I know he intends to marry her to some of his rascally
Frenchmen or his Irish officers, but I will watch them close; and let the
man that would supplant me look well to himself. Bisogna coprirsi,
Signor.'

After some further conversation, unnecessary to be detailed, Waverley
took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury had now subsided into a deep and
strong desire of vengeance, and returned home, scarce able to analyse the
mixture of feelings which the narrative had awakened in his own bosom.

CHAPTER XXV

'TO ONE THING CONSTANT NEVER'

'I am the very child of caprice,'said Waverley to himself, as he bolted
the door of his apartment and paced it with hasty steps. 'What is it to
me that Fergus Mac-Ivor should wish to marry Rose Bradwardine? I love her
not; I might have been loved by her perhaps; but rejected her simple,
natural, and affecting attachment, instead of cherishing it into
tenderness, and dedicated myself to one who will never love mortal man,
unless old Warwick, the King-maker, should arise from the dead The Baron
too--I would not have cared about his estate, and so the name would have
been no stumbling-block. The devil might have taken the barren moors and
drawn off the royal caligae for anything I would have minded. But, framed
as she is for domestic affection and tenderness, for giving and receiving
all those kind and quiet attentions which sweeten life to those who pass
it together, she is sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor. He will not use her ill,
to be sure; of that he is incapable. But he will neglect her after the
first month; he will be too intent on subduing some rival chieftain or
circumventing some favourite at court, on gaining some heathy hill and
lake or adding to his bands some new troop of caterans, to inquire what
she does, or how she amuses herself.
And then will canker sorrow eat her bud,
And chase the native beauty from her cheek;
And she will look as hollow as a ghost,
And dim and meagre as an ague fit,
And so she'll die.
And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might have
been prevented if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes! Upon m