wan and pale, and slept no longer soundly: But, when the world was
at rest, she would rise in her sleep, and wander to the trysting
tree, and pluck off the green oak leaves, and throw them into the
foaming water.

The knight was all this time faithful, but was not able to send word
to his lady love. At last, he returned to England, and hastened
towards the castle where she lived.

It was late at night when he came to the Ara Force; and he sat him
down under the trysting tree to wait for the morning. When he had
been there a long time, he saw a figure approach, all in white, and
pluck off the oak leaves, and fling them into the stream. Angry to
see the sacred tree thus injured, he rose to prevent it. The figure
started and awoke. In a moment he knew his beloved lady. She was now
on the frail bridge. The sudden shock, and the roar of the Force
below, had made her giddy. He leaped forward to embrace and save
her. Alas! too late. Her foot slipped, and she fell. It was all
over. The water tumbling far down into the rocky chasm beneath told
the story of death.

The knight was inconsolable. He retired from the world forever, and
built a monastery near by, on the borders of the lake, where he
died.

The frail bridge is now gone, and a strong plank, with a railing,
supplies its place. But the water still roars down the rock as on
the fatal night; and the foam and spray look as if the white
garments of the fair lady were still fluttering over the deep below.