“Beautiful! beautiful!” exclaimed Edmund at the same moment, meaning, probably, Julia’s singing, but certainly not his own.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” repeated the voice of thunder from within the adjacent perpendicular rock.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” ran along the invisible orchestra above. Frances could keep her countenance no longer at the self-gratulations of the performers, visible and invisible; she laughed out, and a merry peal from all the echoes followed immediately.
“This is too bad,” cried Mr. Jackson, starting, (to the great endangering of the boat,) from the attitude of delighted attention in which he had, since the commencement of the song, remained motionless, “this is too bad, to break up the delicious spell with such a farce as this!”
The sun was now near setting: a homeward course was therefore proposed; and the breeze being favourable, a sail was spread, which, not only greatly assisted the rowers, but added much to the picturesque appearance of the gay barge in which our party sat, as, quitting its coasting position, it dipped like a white winged sea-bird into the dark bosom of the lake, and crossed to the Keswick side.
When they were about to land, Edmund paused a moment to consider whether he ought not to leave Julia to the care of Lord Borrowdale; but she happened at the moment, to point out a well remembered landing-place, beneath an overhanging bower of branches, reminding him how often he had rowed Frances and herself to the spot, and remarking further, a little path, sometimes discernible, among the trees in which they used to walk. Such are the important events which change the resolves of lovers! He gave up all thoughts of the sacrifice he had meditated; hastened to assist her out of the boat; and, as she stepped on the beach, drew the hand he held over his arm, and walked on unconscious of an accident which followed immediately, and which we shall here describe. The hold of the boat-hook on the roots of a stump giving way, the boat was sent, for a few moments, a-drift; and not only was the bargeman, who stood with one foot on the edge of the boat and the other on a projecting piece of rock, precipitated into the water, but so also was Lord Borrowdale, who was, at the instant, in the very act of leaping ashore to join our heroine. This caused such immoderate laughing among the rest of the gentlemen, and so much pretty terror among the ladies, that Edmund and Julia were not missed till they became quite separated from the party. A most inviting path lay before them, which, after ascending for a time, descended a steep and wooded slope, to an overarched opening through the trees, just where a single plank crossed a little stream, at a considerable height from the water.
Arrived on this rustic bridge they stood, the beauty of the scene suspending the hand of Edmund, which he had laid on a little paling gate at its further extremity, with the purpose of opening it, as it formed the barrier between our wanderers and a fresh cut hay-field.
The sun was so low in the horizon that the little mounds of grass which every hand was hastily throwing up for the night at the far end of the meadow, cast their lengthened shadows across half its extent, while the setting beam was still bronzing their tops, together with the faces, garments, and implements of the rustic groups employed around them. At the same moment a full moon, just rising to view on the opposite verge of the heavens, was glittering through the branches of some dark firs that terminated the prospect in that direction.
Julia, who had several appropriate speeches ready, had been all day only waiting for an opportunity to say them; for she had reasoned herself into a belief that it would be dreadful to let Edmund think himself neglected for newer or gayer objects; but, some how, all this preparation had made a thing so simple in itself, as joking Edmund for being affronted, seem quite awful; and in consequence, her heart was beating so fast, that she was waiting for it to stop before she could begin to speak.
“Edmund,” she at length contrived to say, turning and offering her hand; but the foolish fluttering of her heart redoubled, and she stopped short. Edmund started, caught the offered hand, and, puzzled and delighted, pressed it to his lips. She laughed, blushed, and drew her hand away, saying—