and
who had it now in charge to wait upon Waverley. On asking his host if
he knew where the Chieftain was gone, the old man looked fixedly at him,
with something mysterious and sad in the smile which was his only
reply. Waverley repeated his question, to which his host answered in a
proverb,--

What sent the messengers to hell,
Was asking what they knew full well.'
[Corresponding to the Lowland saying, 'Mony ane speirs the
gate they ken fu' weel.]

He was about to proceed, but Callum Beg said, rather pertly, as Edward
thought, that 'Ta Tighearnach (i.e. the Chief) did not like ta Sassenagh
Duinhe-wassel to be pingled wi' mickle speaking, as she was na tat
weel.' From this Waverley concluded he should disoblige his friend by
inquiring of a stranger the object of a journey which he himself had not
communicated.

It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero's recovery. The
sixth morning had arrived, and he was able to walk about with a staff,
when Fergus returned with about a score of his men. He seemed in
the highest spirits, congratulated Waverley on his progress towards
recovery, and finding he was able to sit on horseback, proposed their
immediate return to Glennaquoich, Waverley joyfully acceded, for the
form of his fair mistress had lived in his dreams during all the time of
his confinement.

Now he has ridden o'er moor and moss,
O'er hill and many a glen.

Fergus, all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly by his side,
or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath-cock. Waverley's bosom
beat thick when they approached the old tower of Ian nan Chaistel, and
could distinguish the fair form of its mistress advancing to meet them.

Fergus began immediately, with his usual high spirits, to exclaim, 'Open
your gates, incomparable princess, to the wounded Moor Abindarez, whom
Rodrigo de Narvez, constable of Antiquera, conveys to your castle; or
open them, if you like it better, to the renowned Marquis of Mantua, the
sad attendant of his half-slain friend, Baldovinos of the Mountain.--Ah,
long rest to thy soul, Cervantes! without quoting thy remnants, how
should I frame my language to befit romantic ears!'

Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with much kindness, expressed
her regret for his accident, of which she had already heard the
particulars, and her surprise that her brother should not have taken
better care to put a stranger on his guard against the peri