“No,” he answered; “that would have been cruelty. I have yet several hours to rest before we can start upon our journey; for we must not leave this shelter until the storm has passed.”
He laid himself down, and in a very few minutes was sound asleep.
Haidee kept a faithful watch. Hour after hour passed. Darkness came on—darkness unrelieved by the glimmer of a single star. Presently heavy drops of rain commenced to patter down; then a blinding and jagged streak of blue lightning leapt across the black sky, and a deafening crash of thunder followed. Gordon woke with a start, alarmed for a moment, not realising what the noise was.
“Haidee, Haidee—where are you?” he called.
“Here,” she answered, as she groped her way to where he stood, and laid her hand upon him. “I saw that this storm was coming,” she continued, “but it is rather in our favour, for it will lay the dust and cool the air. Ah! What is that?” she suddenly exclaimed, as she grasped his hand. “Do you not hear something?”
“No, nothing but the rain.”
“There is something more than that—the sound of horse’s hoofs. Do you not hear it?”
He listened for a minute, and then answered—
“Yes.”
“Come to the door,” she said, still holding his hand.