After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus resumed the conversation.—­’One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere we bid farewell to this topic for ever; and forgive my boldness if that word have the air of advice.  My brother Fergus is anxious that you should join him in his present enterprise.  But do not consent to this:  you could not, by your single exertions, further his success, and you would inevitably share his fall, if it be God’s pleasure that fall he must.  Your character would also suffer irretrievably.  Let me beg you will return to your own country; and, having publicly freed yourself from every tie to the usurping government, I trust you will see cause, and find opportunity, to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and stand forth, as your loyal ancestors, at the head of your natural followers and adherents, a worthy representative of the house of Waverley.’

’And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might I not hope’—­

‘Forgive my interruption,’ said Flora.  ’The present time only is ours, and I can but explain to you with candour the feelings which I now entertain; how they might be altered by a train of events too favourable perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain even to conjecture:  only be assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after my brother’s honour and happiness, there is none which I shall more sincerely pray for than for yours.’

With these words she parted from him, for they were now arrived where two paths separated.  Waverley reached the castle amidst a medley of conflicting passions.  He avoided any private interview with Fergus, as he did not find himself able either to encounter his raillery, or reply to his solicitations.  The wild revelry of the feast, for Mac-Ivor kept open table for his clan, served in some degree to stun reflection.  When their festivity was ended, he began to consider how he should again meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the painful and interesting explanation of the morning.  But Flora did not appear.  Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he was told by Cathleen that her mistress designed to keep her apartment that evening, went himself in quest of her; but apparently his remonstrances were in vain, for he returned with a heightened complexion, and manifest symptoms of displeasure.  The rest of the evening passed on without any allusion, on the part either of Fergus or Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the reflections of the latter, and perhaps of both.

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to sum up the business of the day.  That the repulse he had received from Flora would be persisted in for the present, there was no doubt.  But could he hope for ultimate success in case circumstances permitted the renewal of his suit?  Would the enthusiastic loyalty, which at this animating moment left no room for a softer passion, survive, at least in its engrossing force, the success or the failure of the present political