on peal, the light and voices of the Elements when
they walk abroad. The rain fell not: all was dry and arid; the mood of
Nature seemed not gentle enough for tears; and the lightning, livid and
forked, flashed from the sullen clouds with a deadly fierceness, made
trebly perilous by the panting drought and stagnation of the air. The
streets were empty and silent, as if the huge city had been doomed and
delivered to the wrath of the tempest; and ever and anon the lightnings
paused upon the housetops, shook and quivered as if meditating their
stroke, and then, baffled as it were, by some superior and guardian
agency, vanished into their gloomy tents, and made their next descent
from some opposite corner of the skies.

It was a remarkable instance of the force with which a cherished object
occupies the thoughts, and of the all-sufficiency of the human mind to
itself, the slowness and unconsciousness of danger with which Crauford,
a man luxurious as well as naturally timid, moved amidst the angry fires
of heaven and brooded, undisturbed and sullenly serene, over the project
at his heart.

"A rare night for our meeting," thought he; "I suppose he will not fail
me. Now let me con over my task. I must not tell him all yet. Such babes
must be led into error before they can walk: just a little inkling will
suffice, a glimpse into the arcana of my scheme. Well, it is indeed
fortunate that I met him, for verily I am surrounded with danger, and a
very little delay in the assistance I am forced to seek might exalt me
to a higher elevation than the peerage."

Such was the meditation of this man, as with a slow, shufling walk,
characteristic of his mind, he proceeded to the appointed spot.

A cessation of unusual length in the series of the lightnings, and the
consequent darkness, against which the dull and scanty lamps vainly
struggled, prevented Crauford and another figure approaching from the
opposite quarter seeing each other till they almost touched. Crauford
stopped abruptly.

"Is it you?" said he.

"It is a man who has outlived fortune!" answered Glendower, in the
exaggerated and metaphorical language which the thoughts of men who
imagine warmly, and are excited powerfully, so often assume.

"Then," rejoined Crauford, "you are the more suited for my purpose.
A little urging of necessity behind is a marvellous whetter of the
appetite to danger before, he! he!" And as he said this, his low
chuckling laugh jarringly enough