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Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832

"Waverley: or, 'Tis sixty years since"


As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laughing heartily who was
either encircled by peril or oppressed by poverty, the hilarity of
Edward's countenance greatly relieved the embarrassment of his own, and,
giving him a tolerably hearty welcome to Little Veolan, he asked what
he would choose for breakfast. His visitor had, in the first place,
something for his private ear, and begged leave to bolt the door.
Duncan by no means liked this precaution, which savoured of danger to be
apprehended; but he could not now draw back.
Convinced he might trust this man, as he could make it his interest
to be faithful, Edward communicated his present situation and future
schemes to Macwheeble. The wily agent listened with apprehension when
he found Waverley was still in a state of proscription--was somewhat
comforted by learning that he had a passport--rubbed his hands with glee
when he mentioned the amount of his present fortune--opened huge eyes
when he heard the brilliancy of his future expectations; but when
he expressed his intention to share them with Miss Rose Bradwardine,
ecstasy had almost deprived the honest man of his senses. The Bailie
started from his three-footed stool like the Pythoness from her tripod;
flung his best wig out of the window, because the block on which it was
placed stood in the way of his career; chucked his cap to the ceiling,
caught it as it fell; whistled Tullochgorum; danced a Highland fling
with inimitable grace and agility; and then threw himself exhausted into
a chair, exclaiming, 'Lady Wauverley!--ten thousand a year, the least
penny!--Lord preserve my poor understanding!'
'Amen, with all my heart,' said Waverley;--'but now, Mr.


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