the threatened evil; and
Edward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both.

Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak, Colonel Talbot had
recovered his usual composure of manner, though his troubled eye denoted
his mental agony.

'She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a soldier's
tears.' He reached him the miniature, exhibiting features which fully
justified the eulogium; 'and yet, God knows, what you see of her there
is the least of the charms she possesses--possessed, I should perhaps
say--but God's will be done!'

'You must fly--you must fly instantly to her relief. It is not--it shall
not be too late.'

'Fly!--how is it possible? I am a prisoner--upon parole.'

'I am your keeper--I restore your parole-I am to answer for you.'

'You cannot do so consistently with your duty; nor can I accept a
discharge from you with due regard to my own honour--you would be made
responsible.'

'I will answer it with my head, if necessary,' said Waverley,
impetuously. 'I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your
child--make me not the murderer of your wife.'

'No, my dear Edward,' said Talbot, taking him kindly by the hand, 'you
are in no respect to blame; and if I concealed this domestic distress
for two days, it was lest your sensibility should view it in that light.
You could not think of me, hardly knew of my existence, when I
left England in quest of you. It is a responsibility, Heaven knows,
sufficiently heavy for mortality, that we must answer for the foreseen
and direct result of our actions,--for their indirect and consequential
operation, the great and good Being, who alone can foresee the
dependence of human events on each other, hath not pronounced his frail
creatures liable.'

But that you should have left Lady Emily,' said Waverley, with much
emotion, 'in the situation of all others the most interesting to a
husband, to seek a--'

'I only did my duty,' answered Colonel Talbot, calmly, 'and I do not,
ought not to regret it. If the path of gratitude and honour were always
smooth and easy, there would be little merit in following it; but it
moves often in contradiction to our interest and passions, and sometimes
to our better affections. These are the trials of life, and this, though
not the least bitter' (the tears came unbidden to his eyes), 'is not the
first which it has been my fate to encounter. But we will talk of this
to-morrow,' he said, wringing Waverl