But in spite of this generous outburst, his grief was too powerful to be thus suddenly conquered, and his lips quivered again with emotion as he thought of his loss.
"Leave me now, Philip," he said. "I cannot accept your offer, but while my heart beats, you have a place in it."
He had barely uttered these words when the storm without grew more furious. The rain came down like a flood. The wind rattled about the wooden walls of the hotel to such an extent that it seemed as though the building could not possibly hold together. A flash of lightning, so vivid that it almost blinded them, pierced the ground, and at its heels followed a peal of thunder so terrible that it shook the very foundation of the earth. They stood spell-bound. When sight and hearing were restored to them, they heard what sounded like a great crash outside, mingled with human cries; but their attention was diverted from these by the appearance of Margaret, white and trembling, at the door.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
"THIS IS LIKE THE DAWN OF LIFE, MY SWEET."
"I am frightened," she murmured, and ran into her lover's arms, and hid her face in his breast, and tremblingly asked if the world was coming to an end.
Philip, who was really startled by the fury of the storm, recovered his self-possession the moment he saw Margaret. Lovers are not only proverbially, but actually selfish. As Philip embraced Margaret, and pressed her to his breast, I do not believe he cared a pin for the storm--nor Margaret either. She felt quite safe in his arms, but, womanlike, she still expressed her fears.
"O, Philip!"
Clinging closer to him.
"There is nothing to be frightened at, darling," said he.