h with him always indicated delight.
His subtle instinct was stronger than her hope, and as she raised
herself into a sitting posture she saw that he had sprung upon the
top of one of the side aisle pews, and thence into the window, which
had been left open by the sexton. Here he lingered as if irresolute,
and in an agony of dread at the thought of being deserted, she cried
out:

"Here, Hero! Come back! Hero, don't leave me to die alone."

He whined in answer, and barked furiously as if to reassure her; then
the whole church was illumined with a lurid glory that seemed to
scorch the eyeballs with its intolerable radiance, and in it she saw
the white figure of the dog plunge into the blackness beyond.

She knew the worst was over, unless the lightning killed her, for the
wind had ceased, and the walls were still standing; but the
atmosphere was thick with dust, and redolent of lime, and she
conjectured that the plastering in the gallery had fallen, though the
tremendous crash portended something more serious. She tried to stand
up by steadying herself against the balustrade, but the foot refused
to sustain her weight, and she sank back into her former crouching
posture, feeling very desolate, but tearless and quiet as one of the
apostolic figures that looked pityingly upon her whenever the
lightning smote through them.

She turned her head, so that at every flash she could gaze upon the
placid face of the beatified Christ floating above the pulpit; and in
the intense intervening darkness tried to possess her soul in
patience, thinking of the mercy of God and the love of her mother.

She knew not how long Hero had left her, for pain and terror are not
accurate chronometers, but after what appeared a weary season of
waiting, she started when his loud bark sounded under the window,
through which he had effected his exit. She tried to call him, but
her throat was dry and parched, and her foot throbbed and ached so
painfully, that she dreaded making any movement. Then a voice always
pleasant to her ears, but sweeter now than an archangel's, shouted
above the steady roar of the rain:

"Regina! Regina!"

She rose to her knees, and with a desperate exertion of lungs and
throat, answered:

"I am here! Mr. Lindsay, I am here!"

Remembering that words ending in o were more readily distinguished at
a distance, she added:

"Hero! Oh, Hero!"

His frantic barking told her that she had been heard, and then
through the wi