The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

444 WAVERLEY NOVELSS,
placed the lives and fortunes of a free people on a level with Asiatic slaves.
Condemnning, therefore, each party as its excesses fell under his eyes, disgusted with the sight of evils which he had no means of alleviating, and
hearing alternate complaints and exultations with which he could not sympathize, he would long ere this have left Scotland, had it not been for his
attachment to Edith Bellenden.
The earlier meetings of these young people had been at Charnwood, when
Major Bellenden, who was as free from suspicion on such occasions as Uncle
Toby himself, had encouraged their keeping each other'constant company,
without entertaining any apprehension of the natural consequences. Love,
as usual in such cases, borrowed the name of friendship, used her language,
and claimed her privileges. When Edith Bellenden was recalled to her
mother's castle, it was astonishing by what singular and recurring accidents
she often met young Morton in her sequestered walks, especially considering
the distance of their places of abode. Yet it somehow happened that she
never expressed the surprise which the frequency of these rencounters ought
naturally to have excited, and that their intercourse assumed gradually a
more delicate character, and their meetings began to wear the air of appointments. Books, drawings, letters, were exchanged between them, and every
trifling commission, given or executed, gave rise to a new correspondence.
Love, indeed, was not yet mentioned between them by name, but each knew
the situation of their own bosom, and could not but guess at that of the
other. Unable to desist from an intercourse which possessed such charms
for both, yet trembling for its too probable consequences, it had been continued without specific explanation until now, when fate appeared to have
taken the conclusion into its own hands.
It followed, as a consequence of this state of things, as well as of the diffidence of Morton's disposition at this period, that his confidence in Ecdith's
return of his affection had its occasional cold fits. Her situation was in
every respect so superior to his own, her worth so eminent, her accomplishments so many, her face so beautiful, and her manners so bewitching, that
he could not but entertain fears that some suitor more favoured than himself by fortune, and more acceptable to Edith's family than he durst hope to
be, might step in between him and the object of his affections. Common
rumour had raised up such a rival in Lord Evandale, whom birth, fortune,
connexions, and political principles, as well as his frequent visits at Tillietudlem, and his attendance upon Lady Bellenden and her niece at all public
places, naturally pointed out as a candidate for her favour. It frequently
and inevitably happened, that engagements to which Lord Evandale was a
party, interfered with the meeting of the lovers; and Henry could not but
mark that Edith either studiously avoided speaking of the young nobleman,
or did so with obvious reserve and hesitation.
These symptoms, which in fact arose from the delicacy of her own-feelings
towards Morton himself, were misconstrued by his diffident temper; and
the jealousy which they excited was fermented by the occasional observations of Jenny Dennison. This true-bred serving-damsel was, in her own
person, a complete country coquette, and when she had no opportunity of
teasing her own lovers, used to take some occasional opportunity to torment
her young lady's. This arose from no ill-will to Henry Morton, who, both
on her mistress's account and his own handsome form and countenance,
stood high in her esteem. But then Lord Evandale was also handsome;
he was liberal far beyond what Morton's means could afford, and he was a
lord, moreover; and, if Miss Edith Bellenden should accept his hand, she
would become a baron's lady, and, what was more, little Jenny Dennison,
whom the awful housekeeper at Tillietudlem huffed about at her pleasure,
would be then Mrs. Dennison, Lady Evandale's own woman, or perhaps
her ladyship's lady-in-waiting. The impartiality of Jenny Dennison, therefore, did not, like that of Mrs. Quickly, extend to a wish that both the