aside
the branches of a fallen fir, he comes suddenly upon a scene of such
romantic beauty that he stands rooted to the ground. Before him, softly
lit by a half-moon (the man in it perspiring with curiosity), is a
miniature dell, behind which rise threatening rocks, overgrown here and
there by grass, heath, and bracken, while in the centre of the dell is a
bubbling spring called the Cuttle Well, whose water, as it overflows a
natural basin, soaks into the surrounding ground and so finds a way into
the picturesque stream below. But it is not the loveliness of the spot
which fascinates the prince; rather is it the exquisite creature who
sits by the bubbling spring, a reed from a hand-loom in her hands, from
which she strikes mournful sounds, the while she raises her voice in
song. A pink scarf and a blue ribbon are crossed upon her breast, her
dark tresses kiss her lovely neck, and as she sits on the only dry
stone, her face raised as if in wrapt communion with the heavens, and
her feet tucked beneath her to avoid the mud, she seems not a human
being, but the very spirit of the place and hour. The royal wanderer
remains spellbound, while she strikes her lyre and sings (with but one
trivial alteration) the song of MacMurrough:--

Awake on your hills, on your islands awake,
Brave sons of the mountains, the frith and the lake!
'Tis the bugle--but not for the chase is the call;
'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons--but not to the hall.

'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death,
When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath;
They call to the dirk, the claymore and the targe,
To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.

Be the brand of each Chieftain like Stroke's in his ire!
May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire!
Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore,
Or die like your sires, and endure it no more.

As the fair singer concluded, Stroke, who had been deeply moved, heaved
a great sigh, and immediately, as if in echo of it, came a sigh from the
opposite side of the dell. In a second of time three people had learned
that a certain lady had two lovers. She starts to her feet, still
carefully avoiding the puddles, but it is not she who speaks.

("Did you hear me?")

("Ay.")

("You're ready?")

("Ca' awa'.")

Stroke dashes to the girl's side, just in time to pluck her from the
arms of a masked man. The villain raises his mask and reveals the face
of--it looks like