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.

86 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
quainted with the real perpetrators of the outrage on this fellow-if indeed
such an outrage has been committed. Is this reasonable, Mr. Osbaldistone?"
"I will not allow any appeal to Mr. Osbaldistone, Rashleigh," said the
young lady; " he does not know, as I do, the incredible extent and accuracy,
of your information on all points."
" As I am a gentleman, you do me more honour than I deserve."
" Justice, Rashleigh-only justice;-and it is only justice which I expect
at your hands."
"You are a tyrant, Diana," he answered, with a sort of sigh-" a capricious tyrant, and rule your friends with a rod of iron. Still, however, it shall
be as you desire. But, you ought not to be here —you know you ought not;
— you must return with me."
Then turning from Diana, who seemed to stand undecided, he came up to
me in the most friendly manner, and said, " Do not doubt my interest in
what regards you, Mr. Osbaldistone. If I leave you just at this moment, it is
only to act for your advantage. But you must use your influence with your
cousin to return; her presence cannot serve you, and must prejudice herself."
"I assure you, sir," I replied, "you cannot be more convinced of this
than I; I have urged Miss Vernon's returh as anxiously as she would permit me -to do."
"I have thought on it," said Miss Vernon after a pause, "and I will not
go till I see you safe out of the hands of the Philistines. Cousin Rashleigh,
I dare say, means well; but he and I know each other well. Rashleigh, I
will NOT gO;-I know," she added, in a more soothing tone, " my being
here will give you more motive for speed and exertion."
" Stay, then, rash, obstinate girl," said Rashleigh; "you know but too
well to whom you trust;" and hastening out of the hall, we heard his horse's
feet a minute afterwards in rapid motion.
"Thank Heaven, he is gone!" said Diana. "And now let us seek out
the Justice."
" Had we not better call a servant?"
" O, by no means; I know the way to his den — we must burst on him
suddenly- follow me."
I did follow her accordingly, as she tripped up a few gloomy steps, traversed a twilight passage, and entered a sort of ante-room, hung round with
old maps, architectural elevations, and genealogical trees. A pair of foldingdoors opened from this into Mr. Inglewood's sitting apartment, from which
was heard the fag-end of an old ditty, chanted by a voice which had been
in its day fit for a jolly bottle-song.
O, in Skipton-in-Craven
Is never a haven,
But many a day foul weather;
And he that. would say
A pretty girl nay,
1 wish for his cravat a tether.
"Heyday!" said Miss Vernon, "the genial Justice muist have dined
already - I did not think it had been so late."
It was even so. Mr. Inglewood's appetite having been sharpened by his
official investigations, he had ante-dated his meridian repast, having dined
at twelve instead of one o'clock, then the general dining hour in England.
The various occurrences of the morning occasioned our arriving some time
after this hour, to the Justice the most important of the four-and-twenty,
and he had not neglected the interval.
" Stay you here," said Diana. "I know the house, and I will call a servant;
your sudden appearance might startle the old gentleman even to choking;"
and she escaped from me, leaving me uncertain whether I ought to advance
or retreat. It was impossible for me not to hear some part of what passed
within the dinner apartment, and particularly several apologies for declining to sing, expressed in a dejected croaking voice, the tones of which, I
conceived, were not entirely new to me.