Waverley, elder brother of that William whose fate Aunt Rachel
commemorated. Through these scenes it was that Edward loved to »chew the cud of
sweet and bitter fancy,« and, like a child among his toys, culled and arranged,
from the splendid yet useless imagery and emblems with which his imagination was
stored, visions as brilliant and as fading as those of an evening sky. The
effect of this indulgence upon his temper and character will appear in the next
chapter.
 

                                 Chapter Fifth.

                            Choice of a Profession.

From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's pursuits, and the bias
which these unavoidably communicated to his imagination, the reader may perhaps
anticipate, in the following tale, an imitation of the romance of Cervantes. But
he will do my prudence injustice in the supposition. My intention is not to
follow the steps of that inimitable author, in describing such total perversion
of intellect as misconstrues the objects actually presented to the senses, but
that more common aberration from sound judgment, which apprehends occurrences
indeed in their reality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantic
tone and colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expecting general sympathy
with his own feelings, or concluding that the present state of things was
calculated to exhibit the reality of those visions in which he loved to indulge,
that he dreaded nothing more than the detection of such sentiments as were
dictated by his musings. He neither had nor wished to have a confidant, with
whom to communicate his reveries; and so sensible was he of the ridicule
attached to them, that, had he been to choose between any punishment short of
ignominy, and the necessity of giving a cold and composed account of the ideal
world in which he lived the better part of his days, I think he would not have
hesitated to prefer the former infliction. This secrecy became doubly precious,
as he felt in advancing life the influence of the awakening passions. Female
forms of exquisite grace and beauty began to mingle in his mental adventures;
nor was he long without looking abroad to compare the creatures of his own
imagination with the females of actual life.
    The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery at the parish
church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. By far the most passable was
Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose to be called, Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter
of Squire Stubbs at the Grange. I know not whether it was by the »merest
accident in the world,« a phrase which, from female lips, does not always
exclude malice prepense, or whether it was from a conformity of taste