Again he was silent, and during that momentary pause, a deep, low, muttering roar was heard in the far distance—a breathless hush—and again, that long, hollow, crashing roll, that tells of elemental warfare.
Jasper’s eye flashed, and his whole face glared with a fearful and half frenzied illumination.
“It is,” he cried, “it is thunder! From point to point it is true! It is her fate—her fate!”
And with the words, he rushed from the room; and within ten minutes, was folded in the rapturous embrace of the snowy arms of her, whose doom of death he had decreed already in the secrets of his guilty soul.
——
CHAPTER III.
The Deed of Blood.
It rose again, but indistinct to view,
And left the waters of a purple hue.
Byron.