nother crash drowned the laugh that followed, and upon the ensuing
silence, a strange hollow roar was audible.

"The river's down, by Jove!" growled Falkner.

"No. It isn't the river. It's a tremendously heavy rain shower," I
said, listening.

"Let's go outside and see what it looks like," he went on pushing back
his chair.

We had done dinner, and this proposal seemed to find favour, for a move
was made accordingly. We went out we four, for Mrs Sewin was afraid to
stir and the Major remained in with her. Nearer and nearer the roar of
the rain cloud approached, though as yet not a drop had fallen over us.
Again the blue lightning leaped forth, simultaneously with another
appalling crash, cutting short a wrangle which had got up between
Falkner and Edith Sewin, and ending it in a little squeal on the part of
the latter. But already I had seized my opportunity, under cover of the
racket.

"That question I was asking you to-day when we were interrupted," I
whispered to my companion. "It was not answered."

Then came the flash. In the blue gleam, bright as noon-day, I could see
the beautiful, clear cut face turned upwards, as though watching the
effect, with calm serenity. Through the thunder roar that followed I
could still catch the words.

"The answer is--Yes. Will that satisfy you?"

And a hand found mine in a momentary pressure.

Thus amid black darkness and lightning and storm our troth was plighted.
An ill omen? I thought not. On the contrary, it seemed appropriate to
my case; for in it much of a hard but healthy life had been passed amid
rude exposure to the elements, and that I should have secured the
happiness--the great happiness--of my life amid the battling forces of
the said elements seemed not unfitting.

The vast rain cloud went whooping along the river-bed, gleaming in
starry sparkle as the lightning beams stabbed it, but not a drop fell
upon us. The storm had passed us by.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE WITCH DOCTOR AGAIN.

From the moment that Aida Sewin and I had become engaged life was, to
me, almost too good to live. As I have said, I was no longer young, and
now it seemed to me that my life up till now had been wasted, and yet
not, for I could not but feel intensely thankful that I had kept it for
her. I might have been "caught young," and have made the utter mess of
life in consequence that I had seen in the case of many of my
contemporaries, but I had not, and so was f