of self-respect flattered by it; and sometimes also by reciprocal
communications, which interested Mr. Bradwardine, as confirming or illustrating
his own favourite anecdotes. Besides, Mr. Bradwardine loved to talk of the
scenes of his youth, which had been spent in camps and foreign lands, and had
many interesting particulars to tell of the generals under whom he had served,
and the actions he had witnessed.
    Both parties returned to Tully-Veolan in great good humour with each other;
Waverley desirous of studying more attentively what he considered as a singular
and interesting character, gifted with a memory containing a curious register of
ancient and modern anecdotes; and Bradwardine disposed to regard Edward as puer
(or rather juvenis) bonoe spei et magnoe indolis, a youth devoid of that
petulant volatility which is impatient of, or vilipends, the conversation and
advice of his seniors, from which he predicted great things of his future
success and deportment in life. There was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick,
whose information and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very
well with that of the Baron and his guest.
    Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance was not
entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, or, as he termed it,
her Troisième Etage. Waverley was accordingly conducted through one or two of
those long awkward passages with which ancient architects studied to puzzle the
inhabitants of the houses which they planned, at the end of which Mr.
Bradwardine began to ascend by two steps at once, a very steep, narrow, and
winding stair, leaving Mr. Rubrick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while
he should announce their approach to his daughter.
    After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their brains were
almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby, which served as an
ante-room to Rose's sanctum sanctorum, and through which they entered her
parlour. It was a small but pleasant apartment, opening to the south, and hung
with tapestry; adorned besides with two pictures, one of her mother, in the
dress of a shepherdess, with a bell-hoop; the other of the Baron, in his tenth
year, in a blue coat, embroidered waistcoat, laced hat, and bag-wig, with a bow
in his hand. Edward could not help smiling at the costume, and at the odd
resemblance between the round, smooth, red-cheeked, staring visage in the
portrait, and the gaunt, bearded, hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which
travelling, fatigues of war,