He saw the Lady Waverley seated in her bower, her ear strained to every sound, her heart throbbing with double agony, now listening to the decaying echo of the hoofs of the king's horse, and when that had died away, hearing in every breeze that shook the trees of the park, the noise of the remote skirmish.

A distant sound is heard like the rushing of a swollen stream; it comes nearer, and Edward can plainly distinguish the galloping of horses, the cries and shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots between, rolling forwards to the Hall.

The lady starts up--a terrified menial rushes in--but why pursue such a description?
As living in this ideal world became daily more delectable to our hero, interruption was disagreeable in proportion.

The extensive domain that surrounded the Hall, which, far exceeding the dimensions of a park, was usually termed Waverley-Chase, had originally been forest ground, and still, though broken by extensive glades, in which the young deer were sporting, retained its pristine and savage character.

It was traversed by broad avenues, in many places half grown up with brushwood, where the beauties of former days used to take their stand to see the stag course with greyhounds, or to gain an aim at him with the crossbow.