"Thanks—no; I found I had miscalculated, to some extent, the force of the wind," laughed Lyttleton, with a downward glance at his nether limbs, as he accepted the invitation.
It was unworthy of Nell, but seized with a sudden impulse to vex Kenneth, and excite his jealousy, by way of revenge for his strange, his unaccountable silence toward her, she seemed for the next hour scarcely conscious of his presence, while at the same time she lavished smiles, sweet looks, and pleasant words upon his two rivals.
It did pain him sorely, though he gave no sign by word or look, and the sharpest pang was the thought that she was less noble and true, less worthy of the exalted place she had hitherto held in his esteem, than he could have believed.
But the storm grew wilder, the air was full of weird and eerie sounds, and an awed, half fearful silence fell upon the little company.
They drew their chairs nearer together, and Lyttleton, breaking the silence, began telling legendary tales of storm and flood in his own and other lands, following them up with stories of second sight, of murder, suicide and ghostly visitants, fit to curdle the blood with horror.
The lady guest and Mrs. Lamar, too, had some to match these last, and though the major, the captain, Kenneth and Dale, listened with incredulous looks and smiles, it was with an interest that made them, as well as the others, unconscious of the lapse of time till Dale, glancing casually at the tall old clock ticking in a corner, exclaimed that it was half past eleven.
Lyttleton had just finished one of his most thrilling and horrible ghost stories, which had wrought up the female portion of his audience, at least, into a state of extreme nervous excitement; and at that instant there came a blast that seemed to shake the house to its very foundations, the door flew open, and in stalked a tall Hessian in officer's uniform, drawing his sword and vociferating loudly in his native tongue.
The ladies shrieked, the Hessian advanced toward the major, brandishing his weapon, gesticulating wildly, and yelling with a fury that drowned the noise of the raging tempest!
The gentlemen seemed stunned with astonishment. Lyttleton was the first to recover himself.
"Begone!" he cried, hastily placing himself so as to shield Nell from the approach of the enraged foreigner, and drawing a pistol from his pocket, "begone, sirrah, or I will shoot you through the heart."