waterfall, the ruin, the hollow cave--the steep bank crested with the
olive--the airy temple, the dark pomp of the cypress grove, and the roar
of the headlong Anio,--all he touched with the magic of the past--clad
with the glories of history and of legend--and decked ever and anon
with the flowers of the eternal Poesy that yet walks, mourning for her
children, amongst the vines and waterfalls of the ancient Tibur.
And Constance, as she listened to him, entranced, until she herself
unconsciously grew silent, indulged without reserve in that, the
proudest luxury of love--pride in the beloved object. Never had the rare
and various genius of Godolphin appeared so worthy of admiration. When
his voice ceased, it seemed to Constance like a sudden blank in the
creation.

Godolphin and the young countess were several paces before the little
party, and they now took their way towards the Siren's Cave. The path
that leads to that singular spot is humid with an eternal spray; and it
is so abrupt and slippery, that in order to preserve your footing,
you must cling to the bushes that vegetate around the sides of the
precipice.

"Let us dispense with our guide," said Godolphin. "I know every part of
the way, and I am sure you share with me in dislike to these hackneyed
indicators and sign-posts for admiration. Let us leave him to Lady
Charlotte and Saville, and suffer me to be your guide to the cavern."
Constance readily enough assented, and they proceeded. Saville, by no
means liking the difficult and perilous path which was to lead only to
a very cold place, soon halted; and suggested to Lady Charlotte the
propriety of doing the same. Lady Charlotte much preferred the wit of
her companion's conversation to the picturesque. "Besides," as she said,
"she had seen the cave before." Accordingly, they both waited for the
return of the more adventurous countess and her guide.

Unconscious of the defalcation of her friends, and not--from the
attention that every step required--once looking behind, Constance
continued. And now, how delightful to her seemed that rugged way, as,
with every moment, Godolphin's care--Godolphin's hand became necessary;
and he, inspired, inflamed by her company, by her touch, by the softness
of her manner, and the devotion of her attention--no, no! not yet was
Lucilla forgotten!

And now they stood within the Siren's Cave. From this spot alone you
can view that terrible descent of waters which rushes to eart