is
heart had not suffered. The result of the whole matter was his return to
Waverley-Honour without any transfer of his affections, notwithstanding
the sighs and languishments of the fair tell-tale, who had revealed, in
mere sisterly affection, the secret of Lady Emily's attachment, and in
despite of the nods, winks, and innuendos of the officious lady mother,
and the grave eulogiums which the Earl pronounced successively on the
prudence, and good sense, and admirable dispositions, of his first,
second, third, fourth, and fifth daughters.

The memory of his unsuccessful amour was with Sir Everard, as with many
more of his temper, at once shy, proud, sensitive, and indolent, a beacon
against exposing himself to similar mortification, pain, and fruitless
exertion for the time to come. He continued to live at Waverley-Honour in
the style of an old English gentleman, of an ancient descent and opulent
fortune. His sister, Miss Rachel Waverley, presided at his table; and
they became, by degrees, an old bachelor and an ancient maiden lady, the
gentlest and kindest of the votaries of celibacy.

The vehemence of Sir Everard's resentment against his brother was but
short-lived; yet his dislike to the Whig and the placeman, though unable
to stimulate him to resume any active measures prejudicial to Richard's
interest, in the succession to the family estate, continued to maintain
the coldness between them. Richard knew enough of the world, and of his
brother's temper, to believe that by any ill-considered or precipitate
advances on his part, he might turn passive dislike into a more active
principle. It was accident, therefore, which at length occasioned a
renewal of their intercourse. Richard had married a young woman of rank,
by whose family interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his
career. In her right he became possessor of a manor of some value, at the
distance of a few miles from Waverley-Honour.

Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth year, was their
only child. It chanced that the infant with his maid had strayed one
morning to a mile's distance from the avenue of Brerewood Lodge, his
father's seat. Their attention was attracted by a carriage drawn by six
stately long-tailed black horses, and with as much carving and gilding as
would have done honour to my lord mayor's. It was waiting for the owner,
who was at a little distance inspecting the progress of a half-built
farm-house. I know not wheth