 in front of a romantic waterfall. It was not so remarkable
either for great height or quantity of water, as for the beautiful
accompaniments which made the spot interesting. After a broken cataract of about
twenty feet, the stream was received in a large natural basin filled to the brim
with water, which, when the bubbles of the fall subsided, was so exquisitely
clear, that, although it was of great depth, the eye could discern each pebble
at the bottom. Eddying round this reservoir, the brook found its way over a
broken part of the ledge, and formed a second fall, which seemed to seek the
very abyss; then, wheeling out beneath from among the smooth dark rocks, which
it had polished for ages, it wandered murmuring down the glen, forming the
stream up which Waverley had just ascended.48 The borders of this romantic
reservoir corresponded in beauty; but it was beauty of a stern and commanding
cast, as if in the act of expanding into grandeur. Mossy banks of turf were
broken and interrupted by huge fragments of rock, and decorated with trees and
shrubs, some of which had been planted under the direction of Flora, but so
cautiously, that they added to the grace, without diminishing the romantic
wildness of the scene.
    Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate the landscapes of
Poussin, Waverley found Flora gazing on the waterfall. Two paces further back
stood Cathleen, holding a small Scottish harp, the use of which had been taught
to Flora by Rory Dall, one of the last harpers of the Western Highlands. The
sun, now stooping in the west, gave a rich and varied tinge to all the objects
which surrounded Waverley, and seemed to add more than human brilliancy to the
full expressive darkness of Flora's eye, exalted the richness and purity of her
complexion, and enhanced the dignity and grace of her beautiful form. Edward
thought he had never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined a figure of such
exquisite and interesting loveliness. The wild beauty of the retreat, bursting
upon him as if by magic, augmented the mingled feeling of delight and awe with
which he approached her, like a fair enchantress of Boiardo or Ariosto, by whose
nod the scenery around seemed to have been created, an Eden in the wilderness.
    Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own power, and
pleased with its effects, which she could easily discern from the respectful,
yet confused address of the young soldier. But, as she possessed excellent
sense, she gave the romance of the scene, and other accidental circumstances
