Yet he promised (to oblige the heir of
Waverley-Honour) to get him an order for admittance to the prisoner the
next morning, before his irons were knocked off for execution.
'Is it of Fergus Mac-Ivor they speak thus,' thought Waverley, 'or do I
dream? Of Fergus, the bold, the chivalrous, the free-minded, the lofty
chieftain of a tribe devoted to him? Is it he, that I have seen lead the
chase and head the attack, the brave, the active, the young, the noble,
the love of ladies, and the theme of song,--is it he who is ironed like a
malefactor, who is to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows, to
die a lingering and cruel death, and to be mangled by the hand of the
most outcast of wretches? Evil indeed was the spectre that boded such a
fate as this to the brave Chief of Glennaquoich!'
With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor to find means to warn
Fergus of his intended visit, should he obtain permission to make it. He
then turned away from him, and, returning to the inn, wrote a scarcely
intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his purpose to wait upon
her that evening. The messenger brought back a letter in Flora's
beautiful Italian hand, which seemed scarce to tremble even under this
load of misery.
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