strange idea seized me; a person must have
felt all the agonies of doubt concerning the life and death of one who
is the whole world to them before they can enter into my feelings--for
in that state, the mind working unrestrained by the will makes strange
and fanciful combinations with outward circumstances and weaves the
chances and changes of nature into an immediate connexion with the
event they dread. It was with this feeling that I turned to the old
Steward who stood pale and trembling beside me; "Mark, Gaspar, if the
next flash of lightning rend not that oak my father will be alive."

I had scarcely uttered these words than a flash instantly followed by
a tremendous peal of thunder descended on it; and when my eyes
recovered their sight after the dazzling light, the oak no longer
stood in the meadow--The old man uttered a wild exclamation of horror
when he saw so sudden an interpretation given to my prophesy. I
started up, my strength returned; [_sic_] with my terror; I cried,
"Oh, God! Is this thy decree? Yet perhaps I shall not be too late."

Although still several miles distant we continued to approach the sea.
We came at last to the road that led to the town of----and at an inn
there we heard that my father had passed by somewhat before sunset; he
had observed the approaching storm and had hired a horse for the next
town which was situated a mile from the sea that he might arrive there
before it should commence: this town was five miles off. We hired a
chaise here, and with four horses drove with speed through the storm.
My garments were wet and clung around me, and my hair hung in straight
locks on my neck when not blown aside by the wind. I shivered, yet my
pulse was high with fever. Great God! What agony I endured. I shed no
tears but my eyes wild and inflamed were starting from my head; I
could hardly support the weight that pressed upon my brain. We arrived
at the town of ---- in a little more than half an hour. When my father
had arrived the storm had already begun, but he had refused to stop
and leaving his horse there he walked on--_towards the sea_. Alas! it
was double cruelty in him to have chosen the sea for his fatal
resolve; it was adding madness to my despair.[41]

The poor old servant who was with me endeavoured to persuade me to
remain here and to let him go alone--I shook my head silently and
sadly; sick almost to death I leant upon his arm, and as there was no
road for a chaise dragged my