his own coffin and mutilated corpse
was in reality revealed to him by the agency of some supernatural power,
or whether it was (as sceptics will say) the natural effect of his
hypochondriac state of mind, producing an optical deception, we will not
take upon us to determine; certain, however, it is, that with a calm
voice and collected manner he described to his brother James, a scene
the dreadful reality of which was soon to be displayed.

In the morning Philips awoke, cheerful and calm, the memory of last
night's occurrences seeming but a dreadful dream. On the grass before
the door he met his beloved Marion, who, on that blessed Sabbath, was to
become his wife. The sight of her perfect loveliness, arrayed in a white
dress, emblem of purity and innocence, filled his heart with rapture;
and as he clasped her in his arms, every sombre feeling vanished away.
It is not our intention to describe the simplicity of the marriage
ceremony, or the happiness which filled Philips Grey's heart during that
Sabbath morning, while sitting in the church by the side of his lovely
bride.

They returned home, and, in the afternoon, the young couple, together
with James Grey and the bride's-maid, walked out among the glades of
Craigieburn wood, a spot rendered classic by the immortal Burns.
Philips had gathered some of the wild flowers that sprang among their
feet--the pale primrose, the fair anemone, and the drooping blue bells
of Scotland--and wove them into a garland. As he was placing them on
Marion's brow, and shading back the long flaxen tresses that hung across
her cheek, he said, gaily--"There wants but a broad water lily to place
in the centre of thy forehead, my sweet Marion; for where should the
fairest flower of the valley be, but on the brow of its queen? Come with
me, Jamie, and in half an hour we will bring the fairest that floats on
Loch Skene." So, kissing the cheek of his bride, Philips and his
brother set off up the hill with the speed of the mountain deer. They
arrived at the foot of the waterfall, panting, and excited with their
exertions. By climbing up the rocks close to the stream, the distance to
the loch is considerably shortened; and Philips, who had often clambered
to the top of the Bitch Craig, a high cliff on the Manor Water, proposed
to his brother that they should "speel the height." The other, a supple
agile lad, instantly consented. "Gie me your plaid then, Jamie, my
man--it will maybe fash ye," said Phi