As if in applause of her question, a burst of thunder, louder than any before, rolled across the sky, and fell off somewhere in the distance with a terrible thump and a long deep growl.
“Yes, my dear,” said Mr. Cheyleigh, taking his fingers from his eyes to tear off a corner of his newspaper and put in his mouth; “I have not known so strong a blow as this for several years.”
“I trust,” said Mrs. Cheyleigh, raising her head from the children, with the prints of their heads on her cheeks, “that there is nothing like this to-night at the Springs, where Gertrude and Ella are.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” said Mr. Cheyleigh smiling a little, “this storm only extends a few miles along our coast. I fear for the vessels, though, if there should be any in reach of this wind.”
“Oh, ‘twould be frightful, indeed, to be on the water such a night as this. I hope every ship is safe in some harbor,” answered Mrs. Cheyleigh, laying her hands on the little heads in her lap, as if they were two little ships, and her arms were their harbor. Aye, they were! Live how or where we may, life’s ocean has no surer shelter from its storms than a mother’s arms; and if early in our voyage this harbor is closed up by the tomb rocks, we only beat about as best we may till we anchor in the vail!
Mr. Cheyleigh now rose, and going to the window, shaded his eyes with the palms of his hand, while he gazed out into the darkness. Turning into the light again, he said:
“I think the danger of the storm is over now, only the rain is falling. As amusements are out of the question I think the children had better go to bed.”
Mrs. Cheyleigh accordingly raised the two little ones from her lap, they getting up with their hair over their eyes, which they kept half shut, as if afraid of another blinding flash of lightning. As they left the room with their attendant, we sat down to the table and made a hasty supper, and after that took our lamps and retired.
In our rooms we undressed, and laying down commenced to talk over the subject of lost ships and rescues. The thunder had moved so far off as to be scarcely audible, though the pale reflected lightning still flickered through the shutters. The wind was still very strong, and drove the heavy rain drops with sharp clicks upon the window panes, as if a million little storm sprites were trying to kick the glass in with their tiny feet. As we lay there, our imaginations filled with the horrors of the sea, we performed enough feats in fancy to have made bankrupt all the humane societies by our demands for medals.