Obeying her mandate, I now found myself in a lofty and spacious saloon. From the ceiling, which was of azure sprinkled with golden stars, were suspended the most magnificent chandeliers, brilliant with a thousand waxen tapers. Gorgeous and life-like tapestry adorned the walls--massive mirrors reflected on every side the blaze of elegance, while the furniture, patterning the fashions of the different ages from the times of the Crusades to that of Elizabeth, was of the most choice and beautiful materials.
But of this I took little note--other and "more attractive metal" met my eye, for around me were kings and princes--peer and peasant--lords and ladies--turbaned infidel and helmeted knight--the wild roving gipsy and the wandering troubadour. In short, I found myself in the _world_ of the immortal master of Abbotsford, and surrounded by those to whose enchanting company I had oft been indebted for dispelling many a weary hour of sickness and gloom--friends whom at my bidding I could at any moment summon to my presence--friends never weary of well-doing--friends never weighing down the heart by their unkindness, or chilling by their neglect. My heart throbbed with a delight before unknown; and I eagerly looked about me, recognizing on every side those dear familiar ones with whom, for so many years, I had been linked in love and friendship.
The first group on whom my eyes rested were our dear friends from Tully-Veolan accompanied by the McIvors.
The beautiful, high-souled Flora was leaning on the arm of the good old Baron Bradwardine, while the gentle Rose shrunk almost timidly from the support of the noble but ill-fated Fergus. They were both lovely--Flora and Rose; but while the former dazzled by her beauty and her wit, the latter, in unpretending sweetness, stole at once into our hearts. But not so thought Waverly. With "ear polite" he listened to the somewhat tedious colloquy of the old baron, yet his eloquent eyes, his heart speaking through them, were fixed upon the noble countenance of Flora McIvor.
"Come, good folks," cried a merry voice--and the bright, happy face of Julia Mannering was before me--"I am sent by my honored father, the colonel, to break up this charmed circle; and he humbly requests to be put under the spell himself, through the enchanting voice of Miss McIvor--one little Highland air, my dear Flora, is all he asks--but see, with sombre Melancholy leaning on his arm, he comes to enforce his own request."