"In a thunderstorm, it is safer to have the windows open than shut; besides, one cannot suffocate." A brilliant glare of light flashed suddenly upon our vision. The heavens seemed torn open from end to end, and a broad lake of pale blue fire lay quivering in the heart of the mountainous black clouds--for a second only. An on-rushing, ever-increasing, rattling roar of thunder ensued, that seemed to shake the very earth, and all was again darkness. "This is magnificent!" cries Mrs. Challoner, who, with her family, had travelled a great deal, and was quite accustomed to hurricanes and other inconveniences caused by the unaccommodating behaviour of the elements. "I don't think I ever saw anything like it, John dear, even that storm we saw at Chamounix was not any better than this." "Well," returned her husband meditatively, "you see we had the snow mountains there, and the effect was pretty lively. Then there were the echoes--those cavernous echoes were grand! What was that passage in Job, Effie, that I used to say they reminded me of?" "'The pillars of heaven tremble, and are astonished at His reproof ... The thunder of His power, who can understand?'" replied Effie Challoner reverently. "That's it!" he replied. "I opine that Job was pretty correct in his ideas--don't you, reverend sir?" turning to Father Paul. The priest nodded, and held up his finger warningly. "That lady--Mrs. Everard--is going to sing or play, I think," he observed. "Shall we not keep silence?" I looked towards Amy in some surprise. I knew she sang very prettily, but I had thought she was rendered too nervous by the storm to do aught but sit quiet in her chair. However, there she was at the piano, and in another moment her fresh, sweet mezzo-soprano rang softly through the room in Tosti's plaintive song, "Good-bye!" We listened, but none of us moved from the open window where we still inhaled what air there was, and watched the lowering sky. "Hush! a voice from the far-away, 'Listen and learn,' it seems to say; 'All the to-morrows shall be as to-day,'" sang Amy with pathetic sweetness. Zara suddenly moved, as if oppressed, from her position among us as we stood clustered together, and stepped out through the French window into the outside balcony, her head uncovered to the night. "You will catch cold!" Mrs. Challoner and I both called to her simultaneously. She shook her head, smiling back at us; and folding her arms lightly on the stone balustrade, leaned there and looked up at the clouds. "The link must break, and the lamp must die; Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye--good-bye!" Amy's voice was a peculiarly thrilling one, and on this occasion sounded with more than its usual tenderness. What with her singing and the invisible presence of the storm, an utter silence possessed us--not one of us cared to move.