Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by acknowledged merit;
and Rose Bradwardine not only deserved it, but also the approbation of
much more rational persons than the Bautherwhillery Club could have
mustered, even before discussion of the first magnum. She was indeed a
very pretty girl of the Scotch cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion
of hair of paley gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in
whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of countenance; her
features, as well as her temper, had a lively expression; her complexion,
though not florid, was so pure as to seem transparent, and the slightest
emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and neck. Her form,
though under the common size, was remarkably elegant, and her motions
light, easy, and unembarrassed. She came from another part of the garden
to receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that hovered between
bashfulness and courtesy.
The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that the dark hag,
which had somewhat puzzled him in the butler's account of his master's
avocations, had nothing to do either with a black cat or a broomstick,
but was simply a portion of oak copse which was to be felled that day.
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