ey was also
seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at Sinope, while his countrymen were
preparing for a siege. His spirits always rose with anything, good
or bad, which occasioned tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping,
dancing, and singing the burden of an old ballad,

Our gear's a' gane,

until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an admonitory
hint from his horsewhip, which converted his songs into lamentation.

Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley beheld the Baron in
person, measuring and re-measuring, with swift and tremendous strides,
the length of the terrace; his countenance clouded with offended pride
and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour such as seemed to
indicate, that any inquiry concerning the cause of his discomposure
would give pain at least, if not offence. Waverley therefore glided into
the house, without addressing him, and took his way to the breakfast
parlour, where he found his young friend Rose, who, though she neither
exhibited the resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailie
Macwheeble, nor the despair of the hand-maidens, seemed vexed and
thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery. 'Your breakfast will
be a disturbed one, Captain Waverley, A party of Caterans have come down
upon us, last night, and have driven off all our milch cows.'

'A party of Caterans?'

'Yes; robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. We used to be quite free
from them while we paid blackmail to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr;
but my father thought it unworthy of his rank and birth to pay it any
longer, and so this disaster has happened. It is not the value of the
cattle, Captain Waverley, that vexes me; but my father is so much hurt
at the affront, and is so bold and hot, that I fear he will try to
recover them by the strong hand; and if he is not hurt himself, he will
hurt some of these wild people, and then there will be no peace between
them and us perhaps for our lifetime; and we cannot defend ourselves as
is old times, for the government have taken all our arms; and my dear
father is so rash--Oh, what will become of us!'--Here poor Rose lost
heart altogether, and burst into a flood of tears.

The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her with more asperity
than Waverley had ever heard him use to any one. 'Was it not a shame,'
he said, 'that she should exhibit herself before any gentleman in such
a light, as if she shed tears for a drove of horned nol