lieve you.--But now,
gentlemen, allow me to be umpire in this matter, not as Prince Regent,
but as Charles Stuart, a brother adventurer with you in the same gallant
cause. Lay my pretensions to be obeyed by you entirely out of view, and
consider your own honour, and how far it is well, or becoming, to give
our enemies the advantage, and our friends the scandal, of showing that,
few as we are, we are not united. And forgive me if I add, that the
names of the ladies who have been mentioned, crave more respect from us
all than to be made themes of discord.'

He took Fergus a little apart, and spoke to him very earnestly for two
or three minutes, and then returning to Waverley, said--'I believe I
have satisfied Colonel Mac-Ivor that his resentment was founded upon
a misconception, to which, indeed, I myself gave rise; and I trust Mr.
Waverley is too generous to harbour any recollection of what is past,
when I assure him that such is the case.--You must state this matter
properly to your clan, Vich Iain Vohr, to prevent a recurrence of their
precipitate violence.' Fergus bowed. 'And now, gentlemen, let me have
the pleasure to see you shake hands.'

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently reluctant
to appear most forward in concession. They did, however, shake hands,
and parted, taking a respectful leave of the Chevalier. Charles Edward
[See Note 31.] then rode to the head of the Mac-Ivors, threw himself
from his horse, begged a drink out of old Ballenkeiroch's canteen, and
marched about half a mile along with them, inquiring into the history
and connexions of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly using the few words of
Gaelic he possessed, and affecting a great desire to learn it more
thoroughly. He then mounted his horse once more, and galloped to the
Baron's cavalry, which was in front; halted them, and examined their
accoutrements and state of discipline; took notice of the principal
gentlemen, and even of the cadets; inquired after their ladies,
and commended their horses;--rode about an hour with the Baron of
Bradwardine, and endured three long stories about Field-Marshal the Duke
of Berwick.

'Ah, Beaujeu, mon cher ami,' said he as he returned to his usual place
in the line of march, 'que mon metier de prince errant est ennuyant, par
fois. Mais, courage! c'est le grand jeu, apres tout.'

CHAPTER LIX

A SKIRMISH

The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a council of war held
at Derby on th