m he was so highly obliged. He therefore exerted
himself, danced, sang, played at the various games of the day, and was
the blithest of the company. The next morning, however, he had more
serious matters to think of.

The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased with
the supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith on
purpose to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling chapter
had he entered into any examination of our hero's supposed theological
studies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate the
news of the day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, in
one of which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him
deaf to every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the
news from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily overtaking
and crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, or nearly these
words:

'Died at his house, in Hill street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10th
inst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley of
Waverley-Honour, &c. &c. He died of a lingering disorder, augmented by
the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, having been
obliged to find bail to a high amount, to meet an impending accusation
of high-treason. An accusation of the same grave crime hangs over his
elder brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient
family; and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early in
the next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, and
heir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice. In that case,
we are assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to drop further
proceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard. This unfortunate
young gentleman is ascertained to have been in arms in the Pretender's
service, and to have marched along with the Highland troops into
England. But he has not been heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, on
the 18th December last.'

Such was this distracting paragraph.--'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley,
'am I then a parricide?--Impossible! My father, who never showed the
affection of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affected
by my supposed death as to hasten his own. No, I will not believe
it,--it were distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea.
But it were, if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to
hang over my noble and generous u