The full harvest moon was at the zenith and pouring down a flood of silvery radiance over mountain, lake and island.
Right opposite the window was the elegant little bridge that spanned the lake between the island and the mountain, at the base of which stood the little Gothic church with the cottages of the hamlet clustered around it.
A beautiful scene! This morning it had been gay and noisy with a rejoicing crowd come to inspect the decorated grounds, and to triumph over the approaching marriage of their disinherited young lord, with the present heiress of his lost estate.
To-morrow this scene would be even more gay and more noisy, with a greater and more rejoicing crowd.

For all the Clan Scott were to gather here to do honor to the nuptials of their hereditary chieftain.
But to-night the beautiful scene was holy in its solitude and stillness.
Hark! A sound of voices beneath the window.
Salome started, and drew back.

And the next moment, paralyzed by consternation and despair, she overheard the following conversation: "_Hist!_ are you there, Rose ?" inquired a dear familiar voice.
"Ay, I'm here, me laird! After being turnit frae the castle like a thief, or a beggar, or a dog! after being threatened wi' a constable and a prison if I ever showed my face here; but once mair I hae come agen, in obedience to your bidding! Come creeping, creeping, creeping ander the castle wa', by night, like ony puir cat afeared o' scauding water! Ay, me laird, I'm here, mair fule I!" replied a woman's voice.
"Hush, Rose! Do not say so, my girl.

And do not call me 'lord;' I am your slave and not your 'lord,' my lady queen! You know I love you--you only of all women." "Luve me?
Ou, ay, sae ye tell me.

But this gran' wedding is coming unco near to be naething but a jest.