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.

250 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
(jlaptt tht CJirtutl0.
Cassio. That thrust had been my enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st.
OTHELLO.
ON the dark October night succeeding the evening on which Tomkins was
slain, Colonel Everard, besides his constant attendant Roger Wildrake, had
Master Nehemiah Holdenough with him as a guest at supper. The devotions of the evening having been performed according to the Presbyterian
fashion, a light entertainment, and a double quart of burnt claret, were
placed before his friends at nine o'clock, an hour unusually late. Master
Holdenough soon engaged himself in a polemical discourse against Sectaries
and Independents, without being aware that his eloquence was not very interesting to his principal hearer, whose ideas in the meanwhile wandered to
Woodstock and all which it contained-the Prince, who lay concealed there
-his uncle -above all, Alice Lee. As for Wildrake, after bestowing a
mental curse both on Sectaries and Presbyterians, as being, in his opinion,
never a barrel the better herring, he stretched out his limbs, and would
probably have composed himself to rest, but that he as well as his patron
had thoughts which murdered sleep.
The party were waited upon by a little gipsy-looking boy, in an orangetawny doublet, much decayed, and garnished with blue worsted lace. The
rogue looked somewhat stinted in size, but active both in intelligence and
in limb, as his black eyes seemed to promise by their vivacity. HIe was an
attendant of Wildrake's choice, who had conferred on him the nom de guerre
of Spitfire, and had promised him promotion so soon as his young proteg6,
Breakfast, was fit to succeed him in his present office. It need scarce be
said that the manege was maintained entirely at the expense of Colonel
Everard, who allowed Wildrake to arrange the household very much according to his pleasure. The page did not omit, in offering the company wine
from time to time, to accommodate Wildrake with about twice the number
of opportunities of refreshing himself which he considered it necessary to
afford to the Colonel or his reverend guest.
While they were thus engaged, the good divine lost in his own argument,
and the hearers in their private thoughts, their attention was about halfpast ten arrested by a knocking at the door of the house. To those who
have anxious hearts, trifles give cause of alarm.
Even a thing so simple as a knock at the door may have a character
which excites apprehension. This was no quiet gentle tap, intimating a
modest intruder; no redoubled rattle, as the pompous annunciation of some
vain person; neither did it resemble the formal summons to formal business, nor the cheerful visit of some welcome friend. It was a single blow,
solemn and stern, if not actually menacing in the sound. The door was
opened by some of the persons, of the house; a heavy foot ascended the
stair, a stout man entered the room, and drawing the cloak from his face,
said, " Markham Everard, I greet thee in God's name."
It was General Cromwell.
Everard, surprised and taken at unawares, endeavoured in vain to find
words to express his astonishment. A bustle occurred in receiving the
General, assisting him to uncloak himself, and offering in dumb show the
civilities of reception. The General cast his keen eye around the apartment, and fixing it first on the divine, addressed Everard as follows:
"A reverend man I see is with thee. Thou art not one of those, good
Markham, who let the time unnoted and unimproved pass away. Casting
aside the things of this world-pressing forward to those of the next-it is