ansion.

At two o'clock in the morning he was dozing in his chair. Old Sophy had
lain down on her bed, and was muttering in troubled dreams.

All at once a loud crash seemed to rend the very heavens above them: a
crack as of the thunder that follows close upon the bolt,--a rending and
crashing as of a forest snapped through all its stems, torn, twisted,
splintered, dragged with all its ragged boughs into one chaotic ruin.
The ground trembled under them as in an earthquake; the old mansion
shuddered so that all its windows chattered in their casements; the great
chimney shook off its heavy cap-stones, which came down on the roof with
resounding concussions; and the echoes of The Mountain roared and
bellowed in long reduplication, as if its whole foundations were rent,
and this were the terrible voice of its dissolution.

Dudley Venner rose from his chair, folded his arms, and awaited his fate.
There was no knowing where to look for safety; and he remembered too well
the story of the family that was lost by rushing out of the house, and so
hurrying into the very jaws of death.

He had stood thus but for a moment, when he heard the voice of Old Sophy
in a wild cry of terror:

"It's th' Las' Day! It's th' Las' Day! The Lord is comin' to take us
all!"

"Sophy!" he called; but she did not hear him or heed him, and rushed out
of the house.

The worst danger was over. If they were to be destroyed, it would
necessarily be in a few seconds from the first thrill of the terrible
convulsion. He waited in awful suspense, but calm. Not more than one or
two minutes could have passed before the frightful tumult and all its
sounding echoes had ceased. He called Old Sophy; but she did not answer.
He went to the western window and looked forth into the darkness. He
could not distinguish the outlines of the landscape, but the white stone
was clearly visible, and by its side the new-made mound. Nay, what was
that which obscured its outline, in shape like a human figure? He flung
open the window and sprang through. It was all that there was left of
poor Old Sophy, stretched out lifeless, upon her darling's grave.

He had scarcely composed her limbs and drawn the sheet over her, when the
neighbors began to arrive from all directions. Each was expecting to
hear of houses overwhelmed and families destroyed; but each came with the
story that his own household was safe. It was not until the morning
dawned that the true natur