think
anyone knew we were there, and Harold did not stand up throughout the
whole service, but kept his hands locked over his brow, and knelt on.
Perhaps he heard little more, from the ringing of those words in his
ears, for he moved no more, nor looked up, through prayers or psalms,
or anything else, until the brief ceremony was entirely over, and I
touched him; and then he looked up, and his eyes were swimming and
streaming with tears.

We came to the door as if he was in a dream, and there a bitterly cold
blast met us, though the rain had ceased. I was not clad for a night
walk. Harold again proposed fetching a carriage from the "Boar," but I
cried out against that--"I would much, much rather walk with him. It
was fine now."

So we went the length of the street, and just then down came the blast
on us; oh! such a hurricane, bringing another hailstorm on its wings,
and sweeping along, so that I could hardly have stood but for Harold's
arm; and after a minute or two of labouring on, he lifted me up in his
arms, and bore me along as if I had been a baby. Oh! I remember
nothing so comfortable as that sensation after the breathless encounter
with the storm. It always comes back to me when I hear the words, "A
man shall be as a hiding-place from the tempest, a covert from the
wind."

He did not set me down till we were at the front door. We were both
wet through, cold, and spent, and it was past nine, so long as it had
taken him to labour on in the tempest. Eustace came out grumbling in
his petulant way at our absence from dinner. I don't think either of
us could bear it just then: Harold went up to his room without a word;
I stayed to tell that he had seen me home from church, and say a little
about the fearful weather, and then ran up myself, to give orders, as
Mr. Yolland had advised me, that some strong hot coffee should be taken
at once to Harold's room.

I thought it would be besetting him to go and see after him myself, but
I let Dora knock at his door, and heard he had gone to bed. To me it
was a long night of tossing and half-sleep, hearing the wild stormy
wind, and dreaming of strange things, praying all the time that the
noble soul might be won for God at last, and almost feeling, like the
Icelander during the conversion of his country, the struggle between
the dark spirits and the white.

I had caught a heavy cold, and should have stayed in bed had I not been
far too anxious; and I am glad I did