at Wiglands only a few months."

"I come here very often," he answered. "Happily for you."

He might add that well enough, for the clouds poured down their rain
now in torrents, or in sheets; the light which had come from the
horizon a few minutes before was hidden, and the grey gloom of a summer
storm was over everything. The little window seemed dark, with the two
people sitting there. Then there came a blinding flash of lightning.
Eleanor started and cowered, and the thunder rolled its deep tones over
them, and under them, for the earth shook. She raised her head again,
but only to shrink back the second time, when the lightning and the
thunder were repeated. This time her head was not raised again, and she
kept her hand covered over her eyes. Yet whenever the sound of the
thunder came, Eleanor's frame answered it by a start. She said nothing;
it was merely the involuntary answer of the nerves. The storm was a
severe one, and when the severity of it passed a little further off,
the torrents of rain still fell.

"You do not like thunder storms"--Mr. Rhys remarked, when the
lightnings had ceased to be so vivid or so near.

"Does anybody like them?"

"Yes. I like everything."

"You are happy"--said Eleanor.

"Why are not you?"

"I can't help it," said the girl, lifting up her head, though she did
not let her eyes go out of the window. "I cannot bear to see the
lightning. It is foolish, but I cannot help it."

"Are you sure it is foolish? Is there not some reason at the bottom of
it?"

"I think there is a reason, though still it is foolish. There was a man
killed by lightning just by our door, once--when I was a child. I saw
him--I never can forget it, never!"

And a sort of shudder ran over Eleanor's shoulders as she spoke.

"You want my armour," said her companion. The tone of voice was not
only grave but sympathising. Eleanor looked up at him.

"Your armour?"

"You charged me with wearing armour--and I confessed it," he said with
something of a smile. "It is a sort of armour that makes people safe in
all circumstances."

He looked so quiet, so grave, so cool, and his eye had such a light in
it, that Eleanor could not throw off his words. He _looked_ like a man
in armour. But no mail of brass was to be seen.

"What _do_ you mean?" she said.

"Did you never hear of the helmet of salvation?"

"I don't know," said Eleanor wonderingly. "I think I have heard the
words. I do not think I ever attached