he storm is not as severe just now," I said. "I can get to your house
in a little while, if you are willing I should leave you."

She put her hand on my arm. "Come," she said. "Shall we start now?"

"But you must not go. You couldn't get there on foot, such a night as
this."

"Yes, I can. I mean to. Please come."

I still hesitated. She took her hand from my arm and stepped out into
the rain. "Are you coming?" she said.

I joined her, still protesting. We splashed on through the mud and
water, she clinging lightly to my arm and I holding the perfectly
useless umbrella over her head. The rain was descending steadily and the
sky overhead was just black, but along the western horizon, as I caught
a glimpse of it between the trees, I fancied the blackness was a little
less opaque. The storm was passing over, sure enough.

But before it passed it gave us one goodby salute. We had about reached
the point on the Shore Lane where I first met her and Carver in the
auto. The shaky bridge over Mullet's cranberry brook was just ahead.
Then, without warning, the black night split wide open, a jagged streak
of fire shot from heaven to earth and seemed to explode almost in our
faces. I was almost knocked off my feet and my fingers tingled as if I
had been holding the handles of an electric battery. The umbrella flew
out of my hands and, so far as I was concerned, vanished utterly. I
believe Elnathan picked up the ruin next day, but just then I neither
knew nor cared what had become of it. I had other things to think of.

But for a moment I could not think at all. I was conscious of a great
crashing and rustling and splintering directly in front of me and then I
realized that the young lady was no longer clinging to my arm. I looked
about and up through the darkness. Then down. She was lying at my feet.

I bent over her.

"Miss Colton!" I cried. "Miss Colton! Are you hurt?"

She neither answered nor moved. My brain was still numb from the
electric shock and I had a dazed fear that she might be dead. I shook
her gently and she moaned. I spoke again and again, but she did not
answer, nor try to rise. The rain was pouring down upon us and I knew
she must not lie there. So once more, just as I had done in the dingy,
but now under quite different circumstances and with entirely different
feelings, I stooped and lifted her in my arms.

My years of outdoor life in Denboro had had one good effect at least;
they had made me strong.