"
We are bound to tell the tale as we have received it; and, considering
the distance of the time, and propensity of those through whose mouths
it has passed to the marvellous, this could not be called a Scottish
story unless it manifested a tinge of Scottish superstition. As
Ravenswood approached the solitary fountain, he is said to have met with
the following singular adventure: His horse, which was moving slowly
forward, suddenly interrupted its steady and composed pace, snorted,
reared, and, though urged by the spur, refused to proceed, as if some
object of terror had suddenly presented itself. On looking to the
fountain, Ravenswood discerned a female figure, dressed in a white, or
rather greyish, mantle, placed on the very spot on which Lucy Ashton
had reclined while listening to the fatal tale of love. His immediate
impression was that she had conjectured by which path he would traverse
the park on his departure, and placed herself at this well-known and
sequestered place of rendezvous, to indulge her own sorrow and his
parting interview. In this belief he jumped from his horse, and,
making its bridle fast to a tree, walked hastily towards the
fountain, pronouncing eagerly, yet under his breath, the words, "Miss
Ashton!--Lucy!"
The figure turned as he addressed it, and displayed to his wondering
eyes the features, not of Lucy Ashton, but of old blind Alice.
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