In the early part of the summer of 1807, a very handsome young lady,
apparently about twenty-two, came to the village of Hawes, and took
lodgings there. She positively refused to tell either her name or the
place of her residence. Her manners were highly accomplished, though her
behaviour sometimes assumed a degree of wildness and incoherence, which
raised doubts as to the state of her mind. Her dress was rather rich
than splendid; and white was her customary attire. A broad pink ribbon
was always tied round her waist, with two ends behind, reaching to her
feet. It was observed that she took particular pleasure in seeing these
ribbons flutter in the wind, as she rambled over the adjoining fells.
Curiosity, that busy personage in most places, and particularly so in
the village of Hawes was eager to trace the history of the mysterious
visitor, but in vain. The most distant allusion to the subject always
produced silence.
Some supposed that she was a young lady who had been crossed in love,
and had fled hither to brood over her disappointment in solitude; indeed
her conduct rather sanctioned such an opinion, for she kept no company.
When she saw any one, it was to administer relief or to enquire after
their wants.
Others thought she might be some young widow, who had chosen to linger
out her existence in obscurity in such a secluded spot as that. This
opinion did not want support for she was constant in her visits to all
the widows in the village, beside lodging with one.
Others again thought she was betrothed to some military officer, and
chose to escape the importunities of other lovers, by hiding herself
here till peace should restore her future husband to her arms.
Such were a few of the many surmises which at that time constituted the
tea-table gossip at Hawes. Though each party felt confident that its own
opinion was right, it remained only vague conjecture; for the young lady
herself never dropped a single hint which could in the least turn the
scale of imagination to the side of certainty.
One evening, having taken her accustomed ramble, she did not return; and
the widow with whom she lodged became extremely impatient and uneasy.
Inquiries were made in all directions, but no one had seen her. Several
young men volunteered to search her usual haunts, but nothing could be
found.
For several weeks, and even months, the sudden disappearance of the fair
stranger continued to occupy the principal attention of the village. Nor
will this appear surprising, when you recollect that only seldom
anything occurs in a place like that of a romantic nature; yet the
hearts of the inhabitants are as open to the sympathies of humanity in
that place as in others.
At last it was remembered that a carriage, with the blinds up, had
called to water the horses at Mr. Clark's on that evening; and had
driven forward without any one alighting. At the time it was considered
to be an empty carriage; but when the fair stranger was found to have
disappeared so mysteriously the same evening, it was concluded that she
had been carried off by her friends in this very carriage.
Without attempting to explain how this was, she was never heard of after
that day.
The picture I would draw from this story is simply this:--One of her
usual walks was up the glen to Hardra waterfall. Every day, when the
weather would permit, did she traverse this glen. After viewing the
immense column of water which there is precipitated over the projecting
rock into the unfathomable cistern at its foot, she would ascend the
steep acclivity which leads to the top of the rock. Upon a natural rude
column of stone on the left hand side, which appears to have been torn
from the parent rock during some convulsion of nature, would she stand
for hours, her long pink ribbons fluttering in the mountain breeze. I
know of no finer subject than this for a picture. The broken and
overhanging rocks--the loose fragments at their feet--the cascade
itself, the finest in the country--the brook fretting and foaming down
the rugged glen--the stunted trees, and matted foliage, which protrude
from the fissures of this natural wall--the huge erect pillar of stone,
which rears its detached mass above the adjoining rock--and one of the
loveliest females I ever saw, attired in flowing white drapery, which,
with the ribbons, fluttered and played upon the wind--could you find a
subject equal to this for interest, one equal to it for sublimity and
beauty?