It was not strange that she had thus dreamed, since all the day and all the evening her mind had been fixed upon her father. It would have been strange if she had not dreamed of him. Her dream had had the clearness of a vision, but Neva was not romantic, and although she slept no more that night, but walked her floor with noiseless steps and wildly questioning eyes, yet she convinced herself long before the morning that she had been the victim of her excited imagination, and that her dream was “only a dream.”
But was it so? There is a philosophy in dreams which not the wisest of us can fathom. And although the cause of Neva’s dream can be simply and naturally explained as the result of her agitated thoughts of her father, yet might one not also think, with less of this world’s wisdom, perhaps, and more of tenderness, that the girl’s guardian angel had placed that picture before her in her sleep, and so made recompense, in the joy of her dream, for her day of anguish and unrest?
Be this as it may, our story has to deal with actual facts, and has now to take a startling turn, perhaps not anticipated by the reader.
It was about one o’clock of the morning when Neva awakened from her dream.
It was then about seven o’clock—there being six hours difference in time—in India.
Among the cool shadows of the glorious Himalayas are many country seats, or “bungalows,” occupied at certain seasons by exhausted English merchants from Calcutta, with their families, by army officers, and by others of foreign birth, enervated or rendered sickly by the scorching heats of the sea-coast or more level regions. They find “among the hills” the fresh air, and consequent health, for which otherwise they would have to undertake, at all inconvenience and expense, a voyage home to England or Holland.
These bungalows, for the most part, are cheaply built of bamboo, with thatched roofs, and are encircled with broad and shaded verandas, always roofed, and sometimes latticed at the sides and grown with vines, to form a cool and leafy arcade, which serves all the purposes of promenade, sitting-room, music-room, dining-room, and even sleeping room, for there are usually bamboo couches scattered about, upon which the indolent resident takes his siesta at midday.
To one of these bungalows, a fair type of the rest, we will now direct the attention of the reader.
It stood upon an elevated plateau, with the tall mountains crested with snow in the distance. It was surrounded at the distance of a few miles by a range of hills, and between it and them lay miles of forest, which was an impenetrable jungle. Around the bungalow was a clearing of limited extent, and which was dotted with plumed palms, bamboo, and banyan trees.
The dwelling, frail like all of its class, was sufficiently well built for the climate. It was constructed of bamboo, was a single story in height, and was thatched with the broad leaves of the palm. A veranda, twelve feet wide, surrounded it. Its interior consisted of a broad hall, extending from front to rear, with two rooms opening from each side of it. The central hall, containing no staircase, was a long and wide apartment, which served as dining-room, sitting-room, and parlor, when required.