"One by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower."

The gentlemen started to their feet, helped up the ladies, urging them to run quickly to the cascade steps, as it was evident that there was heavy rain approaching.

Helena looked a little discomfited as she caught her mother's reproachful glance fixed upon her; but she carried it off with a laugh, and "Well! it will only be a shower. You'll see that I shall be right after all!"

"Come, come," called out Mr. Penton; "you ladies must wrap yourselves up in whatever shawls there are, and get to shelter as fast as possible, or you will be drenched with rain. In the meantime, I will go to the hotel and send any other wrappings that I can find. You will be sure to take cold if you sit there upon those damp steps."

"Why can't you send one of Spillman's men, George?" said his wife.

"My dear, don't you see that they have already as much as they can possibly do to get those things away before the storm comes on?"

"Oh, as you like, my dear George; I only wished to save you trouble," languidly replied Mrs. Penton.

As they hastened to the cascade, the large drops fell faster and faster; then they suddenly ceased. The quickness with which thunder-storms come on in southern climes is proverbial. Less than an hour before, the sun was shining brightly in an azure sky, and a light breeze gave freshness to the air. Now, that azure sky was all overcast; the air was heavy and sultry; there was a dead stillness all around; and the very leaves of the trees seemed to be weighed down, drooping under some unseen pressure. It was indeed the lull before the storm.

Hardly had they got into shelter, and Mr. Penton, accompanied by Charles Elton, had started for the hotel, when there arose a hurricane of wind,—whistling, tearing through the trees, waving the largest and strongest of them in its wild grasp, like the merest reeds; whirling into clouds the gravel of the walks, and rushing with unchecked fury through the covered passages wherein our party had taken refuge. Then, back again it came with unabated vigour; and across the black, lowering sky darted a vivid flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously by a clap of thunder which seemed to burst over the cascade.

It is curious to watch how differently a violent thunder-storm affects people, and ladies in particular. Many make themselves quite foolish on such occasions, indulging in the most silly demonstrations of terror, clinging to each other, hiding their faces, uttering little shrieks to manifest their fears; others, although evidently frightened, have the good sense to remain quiet, and, if they are pious, begin to pray; others, again, seem to take delight in it,—it excites them,—they watch its course with riveted attention, and become lost, so to say, in admiration of its grand yet awful beauty; looking as if they would fain say, with the poet,