for there is rain in that cloud."

Thurston--piqued that he could not trouble her more--for under her calm
and unruffled face he could not see the bleeding heart--arose sullenly,
drew her hand within his arm and led her forth.

And as they went the wind arose, and the storm clouds drove over the sky
and lowered and darkened around them.

Marian urged him to walk fast on account of the approaching tempest, and
the anxiety the family at the cottage would feel upon her account.

They hurried onward, but just as they reached the neighborhood of Old
Fields a terrible storm of hail and snow burst upon the earth.

It was as much as they could do to make any progress forward, or even to
keep themselves upon their feet. While struggling and plunging blindly
through the storm, amid the rushing of the wind and the rattling of the
hail, and the crackling and creaking of the dry trees in the forest, and
the rush of waters, and all the din of the tempest, Marian's ear caught
the sound of a child wailing and sobbing. A pang shot through her heart.
She listened breathlessly--and then in the pauses of the storm she heard
a child crying, "Marian, Marian! Oh! where are you, Marian?"

It was Miriam's voice! It was Miriam wandering in night and storm in
search of her beloved nurse.

Marian dropped Thurston's arm and plunged blindly forward through the
snow, in the direction of the voice, crying, "Here I am, my darling, my
treasure--here I am. What brought my baby out this bitter night?" she
asked, as she found the child half perishing with cold and wet, and
caught and strained her to her bosom.

"Oh, the hail and snow came down so fast, and the wind shook the house
so hard, and I could not sleep in the warm bed while you were out in the
storm. So I stole softly down to find you. Don't go again, Marian. I
love you so--oh! I love you so!"

At this moment the child caught sight of Thurston standing with his face
half muffled in his cloak. A figure to be strangely recognized under
similar circumstances in after years. Then she did not know him, but
inquired:

"Who is that, Marian?"

"A friend, dear, who came home with me. Good-night, sir."

And so dismissing Thurston, he walked rapidly away. She hurried with
Miriam to the house.

CHAPTER XXI.

ONE OF SANS SOUCI'S TRICKS.

Sans Souci stood before the parlor mirror, gazing into it, seeing--not
the reflected image of her own elfish figure, or pretty, witching face,
with