Unquestionably it was only a dream! Lord Arondelle could never play so base a part as he had seemed to do in her dream! She reproached herself for having even involuntarily been the subject of it.
And yet! and yet! the weight lay heavy at her heart, and although this was a warm June morning, she shivered as though it had been January.
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.