The meditations of Ravenswood were of a very mixed complexion.  He saw himself at once in the very dilemma which he had for some time felt apprehensive he might be placed in.  The pleasure he felt in Lucy’s company had indeed approached to fascination, yet it had never altogether surmounted his internal reluctance to wed with the daughter of his father’s foe; and even in forgiving Sir William Ashton the injuries which his family had received, and giving him credit for the kind intentions he professed to entertain, he could not bring himself to contemplate as possible an alliance betwixt their houses.  Still, he felt that Alice poke truth, and that his honour now required he should take an instant leave of Ravenswood Castle, or become a suitor of Lucy Ashton.  The possibility of being rejected, too, should he make advances to her wealthy and powerful father—­to sue for the hand of an Ashton and be refused—­this were a consummation too disgraceful.  “I wish her well,” he said to himself, “and for her sake I forgive the injuries her father has done to my house; but I will never—­no, never see her more!”

With one bitter pang he adopted this resolution, just as he came to where two paths parted:  the one to the Mermaiden’s Fountain, where he knew Lucy waited him, the other leading to the castle by another and more circuitous road.  He paused an instant when about to take the latter path, thinking what apology he should make for conduct which must needs seem extraordinary, and had just muttered to himself, “Sudden news from Edinburgh—­any pretext will serve; only let me dally no longer here,” when young Henry came flying up to him, half out of breath:  “Master, Master you must give Lucy your arm back to the castle, for I cannot give her mine; for Norman is waiting for me, and I am to go with him to make his ring-walk, and I would not stay away for a gold Jacobus; and Lucy is afraid to walk home alone, though all the wild nowt have been shot, and so you must come away directly.”

Betwixt two scales equally loaded, a feather’s weight will turn the scale.  “It is impossible for me to leave the young lady in the wood alone,” said Ravenswood; “to see her once more can be of little consequence, after the frequent meetings we have had.  I ought, too, in courtesy, to apprise her of my intention to quit the castle.”

And having thus satisfied himself that he was taking not only a wise, but an absolutely necessary, step, he took the path to the fatal fountain.  Henry no sooner saw him on the way to join his sister than he was off like lightning in another direction, to enjoy the society of the forester in their congenial pursuits.  Ravenswood, not allowing himself to give a second thought to the propriety of his own conduct, walked with a quick step towards the stream, where he found Lucy seated alone by the ruin.