Kenneth Logie and his cousin Lily approached.
So full were they of themselves, and their own sweet conversation, that they never perceived Halbert, who, motionless as an equestrian statue, remained gazing at them with eyes that, like his heart, were full of fire. Fair Lily wore a dress of light blue silk, that charmingly became her bright and pure complexion; it had little white slashes, inlet at the shoulders; the wide and hanging sleeves displayed her dimpled elbows, and the snowy whiteness of her arms; she carried her hood in one hand, the other rested on the arm of Kenneth; and her hair, which fell like a shower of gold upon her neck and bosom, swept over his shoulder, when at times their heads were bent together. The sunbeams, as they darted through the summer foliage, gave an additional lustre to her hair and eyes; and, when she spoke or smiled, her mouth, from time to time, revealed the whiteness of her close and well set teeth.
The handsome youth who walked by her side seemed fully worthy of this alluring girl, for his tall strong figure appeared to the utmost advantage in a suit of green velvet, laced with Venetian gold; a black feather drooped from his bonnet; he had a rapier in his belt and a falcon on his wrist. Another sat on the hand of Lily, and the lovers were laughing merrily as they flirted their birds, making them peck at each other, scream, and flap their wings; for an old chronicler tells us, that at the Scottish court he was considered the most finished gallant who could make his falcon play most tricks with the falcon of a lady.
Their thoughts were wholly of that nearer and dearer relationship which they were soon to bear unto each other; and as Lily bent her pure white brow towards Kenneth's sunburnt cheek, she said more than once—
"Oh, cousin Kenneth! are we not the happiest beings in the world?"
"In our love for each other, we are, dearest Lily!"
"In every thing," and Kenneth assented by a kiss.
Their conversation was made up of those little nothings which are so charming to lovers, but which will neither bear to be written nor rehearsed.
These were as molten lead to the heart of the unhappy Gordon; and when he saw Lily smiling with joyous confidence as her favoured lover painted many a vision of happiness to come, he felt that with all his love—a love the stronger by its very hopelessness—he could have cursed her.
Like a vision they passed before him, and disappeared down a vista of the wood. His horse, which had raised its head as they passed, was again drinking placidly; the river was running on; the trees were rustling their green leaves overhead; but the miserable man remained as one entranced, and the sound of their voices—one so charming, the other so hateful—seemed to linger in his ear long after they were gone.