Should Flora even listen
to his suit favourably, what prospect was there of its being brought to a
happy termination amid the tumult of an impending insurrection? Or how
could he make the selfish request that she should leave Fergus, to whom
she was so much attached, and, retiring with him to England, wait, as a
distant spectator, the success of her brother's undertaking, or the ruin
of all his hopes and fortunes? Or, on the other hand, to engage himself,
with no other aid than his single arm, in the dangerous and precipitate
counsels of the Chieftain, to be whirled along by him, the partaker of
all his desperate and impetuous motions, renouncing almost the power of
judging, or deciding upon the rectitude or prudence of his actions, this
was no pleasing prospect for the secret pride of Waverley to stoop to.
And yet what other conclusion remained, saving the rejection of his
addresses by Flora, an alternative not to be thought of in the present
high-wrought state of his feelings with anything short of mental agony.
Pondering the doubtful and dangerous prospect before him, he at length
arrived near the cascade, where, as Fergus had augured, he found Flora
seated.
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