It was a dreadful storm; there were no pauses between the rapid explosions, the intolerable glare of the lightning. Even Mrs. Fitzpatrick sat with white lips. Harriet was crying on Mr. Gage's shoulder; Everard, tired of sitting up, was snoring in an arm-chair. Margaret looked round, wondering at the terror they all seemed to feel. They must be very happy she thought to feel such fear at the remote danger which attends such a scene.
She looked involuntarily for Mr. Haveloc, he was not in the room. Still the storm did not abate. George Gage, who had been supporting Harriet for an hour without repining, now looked at his watch.
"Twelve o'clock! I say Harriet, would you mind Everard looking after you, while I went to smoke a cigar?"
"Oh! hear him—how profane he is!" sobbed Harriet, "to talk of smoking, with that—oh, gracious! that dreadful noise going on!"
"Well, I will not if you have any dislike—"
"By Jove, I must be off now," said Captain Smithson rising.
"No! for Heaven's sake don't be imprudent, Captain Smithson," cried Lucy, looking up, "you will be killed."
"And if you are," said Harriet, drying her eyes, "it will never do; for we shall not be able to find another 'father,' by Monday."
"No, no, come with me Smithson," said Mr. Gage. "There Harriet. I am sure you don't mind it now, only look at Miss Capel."
But not an inch would Harriet let him stir. Captain Smithson longing for something to drink, made a sign to Mr. Gage, and slipped out. Margaret did not like the idea of waiting there till morning. She remembered that the conservatory commanded a very extensive view that reached to the sea; and she thought how grand that rich expanse of country would look, when summoned into life by each vivid flash of lightning.