on my sight, and I hastened nervously to my cottage. Thenceforward I
seldom lost them. When I penetrated the wild glen of the Lackawanna,
or climbed the Umbrella Tree, or ventured into the Wolf's Den, or sat
upon Queen Esther's Rock, or sailed upon Harvey's Lake, they followed
me, the one lulling, the other maddening--invisible but omnipresent
types of the good and the evil which forever hover in the air.

"One day I ventured to Falling Waters, a reservoir which is
precipitated from a cliff, called Campbell's Ridge, into a gorge of
the Shawnee Mountains. The deafening roar of the cataract would be
almost deathly to me; but, strengthened by the promise of Heraine, I
determined to add this achievement to the long list of inflictions
endured for her sake.

"I made the ascent on foot, and could see, from the base of the ridge,
the skein of foam shining through the pines in its everlasting flight
down the rocks. I became accustomed to the sound as I gradually
approached, and mused, with gladness, of an early return to England.
Heraine would acknowledge my vindication. Suffering more anguish from
a sunbeam or a song than others from the knout or the rack, I had yet
run the gauntlet of the intensest horrors, cheered by the certainty of
her regard. She would confess her error. We should shut out the world
again from our shadowy home at Glengoyle, and go down together, hand
in hand, to a deeper stillness. As I mused thus I heard the haunting
footfalls again, going up the mountain before me. To my delight, their
attendant demon was inaudible, and I pursued them rapturously. The
rush of waters grew louder. They had moaned before; they shrieked and
screamed now, as if in the agony of their suicidal leap. But, clear
and musical, above the hell of sound rang the tinkling feet which had
led me around the globe.

"I called aloud. I quickened my pace. I could see only in glimpses
through my tears; but along the steep sinuosities of the path
something fluttered and vanished, and fluttered again--I recognized
Heraine.

"I knew now the fidelity of her affection. She had followed my invalid
wanderings, to be near me in want and prostration. I could have knelt
in the aisle of the dim woods, with God's choir of waters pealing
before me, to weep my gratitude. But as the figure of Heraine
disappeared above, those other abhorred footfalls rang keenly below.
Deep, rapid, and elastic, they were sonorously defined above the clash
of the catara