The night, indeed, was far from promising; the wind blew in sudden gusts, and whirled the dead leaves on every side. A low moaning sound came from the distant mountains, the sure forerunner of a storm; while peals of thunder broke upon the ear. The black clouds drifted rapidly along the sky, and several meteors gilded the night with their evanescent glories. Suddenly a deep silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of the horses’ feet upon the flinty road, as the benighted travellers struck their rowels into the sides of the animals, to urge them to greater speed. But this boding silence did not last long; the wind again rose with redoubled violence—the thunder rolled in awful peals—and a sheet of vivid lightning covered the whole face of the heavens; clap followed clap in rapid succession, shaking the very earth to its centre; the rain came down in torrents, yet still the red-winged lightning struggled through it, and kept up its terrific fire. A moment’s pause in the storm gave the elder traveller time to exclaim—“Well, Edward, my prognostications have proved true, have they not? Poor Marien must indeed feel anxious;” when, just at this instant, a dark object issued out of a kind of ravine which appeared on one side of the road, and darted across the path close to the horses’ heads. “What was that?” continued the speaker. “Was it man or animal? My glance was so momentary, that indeed I know not.” “A boy,” returned his companion, “an’ my eyes deceived me, or it was Marien’s dumb page.” “What! Julio? Impossible! What could the boy do abroad in such a night? unless” —and the speaker paused; “unless, indeed, Marien sent him forth to gain some tidings of us; for although the poor little fellow was born deaf and dumb, he has the brightest intellect and swiftest foot of any negro I ever knew. I have often promised to tell you his story; and as the tempest seems to have worn away a little, I may as well give it now, which will tend to make the road seem the shorter.