She arose to close the window.

Then—­

What a magnificent and beautiful scene burst upon her vision!  The eastern horizon was ablaze with glory.  Lovely morning clouds, soft, transparent white, tinted with rose, violet and gold, tempered the dazzling splendor of the rising sun, and half vailed the opal-hued mountain tops, and even hung upon the emerald mountain side.  Morning sky, rosy clouds, and opal mountains, were all reflected as by a mirror in the clear water of the lake below.

The hamlet at the foot of the mountain was gay with flags and banners and festoons of flowers.  The bridge spanning the lake and connecting the hamlet with the island, was grand with triumphal arches.  The lake was alive with gayly-trimmed pleasure-boats of every description.  The island, with its groves, shrubberies, parterres, arbors, terraces, statues, was decorated with flags and banners, innumerable colored lamps and floral mottoes and devices.

The streets of the hamlet, the bridge and the island was each alive with a merry crowd of tenantry and peasantry in their picturesque holiday suits, coming to see the wedding pageant.

Gayer than all was the gathering of the Clan Scott, in their brilliant tartans, and with their national music to do honor to the nuptials of the heir of their chief.

As Miss Levison looked and listened, the shadows of the night vanished from her mind as clouds before the sun!

How strange the thought that the evil dream should have troubled her at all!  But the dream had seemed as real as any waking experience.  But then, again, dreams often do seem so!  She would think no more of it, except to repent having been so unjust to Lord Arondelle, even though it was but in an involuntary dream.

It was as yet very early in the morning—­not seven o’clock.  Her serenaders had waked her betimes, and the country people had clearly determined to lose not one hour of that festive day.  But Miss Levison was still shivering in the mild June morning.  She thought she would ask for a cup of coffee to warm her.

She rang her bell.

Her maid entered the room, courtesied, and stood waiting

“Janet, tell the housekeeper to send me a strong, hot cup of coffee,” she said.

“Yes, Miss.  If you please, Miss, my lord’s gentleman is below with a note and a parcel for you, Miss.”

“Very well, Janet.  Do you bring it up and ask the man to wait.  There may be answer,” replied Miss Levison, as the rose clouds rolled over her clear, pale cheeks.

The girl courtesied and withdrew.

“To think of my being so wicked as to have such a dream about him—­him!” she said to herself, as again she shivered with cold.

Presently the housekeeper entered with a tiny cup of coffee on a small silver tray in her hand, and with many cordial congratulations on her lips.

Fortunately the lace curtains of the bed were down, so that she could not see that it had not been slept in, and annoy her young mistress with exclamations and questions.