The great rock falls by abrupt acclivity to the water; it towers with pinnacle and peak aloft. Planted in the side of the forest it stands veined, scarred; it is fretted with many colours, cut and torn into all manner of fantastic shapes by work of roots and rain, by centuries of storm and the chisel of the lightning. Bedded here, with ivy on its front, the smile of evening for a crown, and the forest like a green sea breaking in foam of leaves around it, the Water Stone stood. Night was already come upon its eaves and cornices; from its feet ascended musical thunder of Plym in a riot of rocks; and aloft, clashing, echoing and re-echoing from scarp and precipice, there rang the cheerful chiming music of unnumbered jackdaws, who made these crags their home. Mark Baskerville, descending into the valley from Shaugh, beheld this scene with understanding. He had been well educated; he was sentimental; he regarded wild Nature in a manner rare amid those born and bred upon her bosom. Beauty did not find him indifferent; old legends gave him joy. He knew the folk-tales of the land and dwelt upon them still with pleasure--an instinct surviving from boyhood, and deliberately suffered to survive. He loved the emotion of awe and cultivated it; he led a life from choice much secluded; he had walked hitherto blind, in so far as women were concerned; but now a woman had entered his life, and Nature shone glorified throughout by the experience. Mark was in love with Cora Lintern; yet this prime fact did not lessen his regard for the earth and the old stories concerning it. He found the things that were good aforetime still good, but changed. His emotions were all sharpened and intensified. His strength was stronger; his weakness was weaker than of yore. She was never out of his thoughts; she made the sunlight warmer, the bird's song sweeter, the night more wonderful. He woke and found himself brave enough to approach her in the deep, small hours of morning; but with dawn came fear, and with day his courage melted. By night also he made rhymes that seemed beautiful to him and brought moisture to his eyes; but when the sun came and he repeated his stumbling periods, he blushed at them and banished them. She was friendly and not averse; but she was clever, and had many friends among young men. Nathan Baskerville rejoiced in her, and often foretold a notable match for Cora. What Mark could offer seemed very little to Mark himself. His father, indeed, was reputed rich; but life at Hawk House revealed no sign of it. They lived hard, and Humphrey Baskerville affected a frugality that would have been unusual in the homes of humbler people.