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.