rald to come back.

"I must go," said Gerald. "I--I won't give you away, Mrs. Cook. Shake!"

"You're a gentleman, sir," replied Frances. They shook hands in the
dark, and Gerald ran out. Even as he opened the door the storm broke. A
violent blast of wind, a blinding flare, a rattling volley of thunder,
and down came the rain.

A rush, a roar, the trampling of a thousand horses; and overhead the
great guns bellowing, and the flashes coming and going--it was a wild
scene. The family had come in, and were all standing in the front hall.
All? No, two, only,--Margaret and Miss Sophronia. In the confusion and
tumult, the children had escaped, and were gone. Margaret, a little
pale, but perfectly composed, met Gerald with a smile, as if it were the
most ordinary thing in the world for young gentlemen to walk out of the
wall. She was supporting Miss Sophronia, who had quite lost her head,
and was crying piteously that they would die together, and that whoever
escaped must take her watch and chain back to William. "Poor William,
what will become of him and those helpless babes?"

"It's all right, Miss Montfort," said Gerald, cheerfully. "I ran the
noise down, and it was the simplest thing in the world. Nothing to be
alarmed about, I do assure you; nothing."

"What was it?" asked Margaret, in an undertone.

"I'll tell you by and by," replied the young man, in the same tone. "Not
now, please; I promised--somebody. You shall know all in good time."

His look of bright confidence was not to be resisted. Margaret nodded
cheerfully, and submitted to be mystified in her own home by an almost
total stranger. Indeed, the Voice of Fernley had suddenly sunk into
insignificance beside the Voice of Nature. The turmoil outside grew more
and more furious. At length a frightful crash announced that the
lightning had struck somewhere very near the house. This was the last
straw for poor Miss Sophronia. She fled up-stairs, imploring Gerald and
Margaret to follow her. "Let us die together!" she cried. "I am
responsible for your young lives; we will pass away in one embrace. The
long closet, Margaret! It is our only chance of life,--the long closet!"

The long closet, as it was called, was in reality a long enclosed
passage, leading from the Blue Room, where Miss Sophronia slept, to one
of the spare chambers beyond. It was a dim place, lighted only by a
transom above the door. Here were kept various ancient family relics
which would not bea