There was a
great noise within; he paused to listen. A round English oath or two, and
the burden of a campaign song, convinced him the hamlet also was occupied
by the Duke of Cumberland's soldiers. Endeavouring to retire from it as
softly as possible, and blessing the obscurity which hitherto he had
murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he could along a small
paling, which seemed the boundary of some cottage garden. As he reached
the gate of this little enclosure, his outstretched hand was grasped by
that of a female, whose voice at the same time uttered, 'Edward, is't
thou, man?'
'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, but gently,
to disengage himself.
'Naen o' thy foun, now, man, or the red cwoats will hear thee; they hae
been houlerying and poulerying every ane that past alehouse door this
noight to make them drive their waggons and sick loike. Come into
feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'
'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through the little
garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself to kindle a
match at an expiring fire, and with the match to light a candle.
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