As we sat there, the deep, hoarse, solemn murmur of the wind, as it rose and fell, had in it something very impressive. At times it wailed like the mingled voices of a vast multitude; then it chafed among the tossing branches like the waves of a distant sea, in fierce and sudden gusts; anon it would die away, and we heard only the hiss of the rain that poured so ceaselessly down on the leaves of the drenched forest. At times strange sounds seemed to mingle with the passing wind. I deemed these to be the cries of affrighted wolves; and often sat pistol in hand, lest some of those dreadful denizens of the wild should find our place of shelter, and rush headlong in. The lightning that came in brilliant and quivering flashes revealed the rugged outline of the cavern-mouth, and the wet dingles which stretched away in vague and dark perspective; and the whole scene, with all its concomitants, was so terrible, that Nicola drew her hood over her eyes, and at times drooped her forehead on my shoulder. She was faint with fear, and weary by fatigue; and, being a good little Catholic, I heard her muttering her prayers from time to time. Moreover, she made a vow, if she escaped all the terrors of the night, to visit the most renowned shrine in Lorraine, that of St. Lucy the Scot at St. Michel. Then she uttered a feint cry, and clutched my arm! A thunderbolt--a blazing ball of fire--which seemed to fall with a startling roar, and by its own specific weight, struck at the mouth of the cavern, a large tree, a strong and ancient oak, that had stood perhaps for a hundred years, and clashed it to pieces, cleaving it, like a mighty wedge of flame, to the roots in a moment. For a time the sulphureous odour was stifling; but it subsided at last, and with it the terror of my trembling companion. 'We are quite safe, Nicola,' said I, placing an arm gently round her. 'Safe--you think so? Ah! M. Blane, make a sign of the cross, just once--to please me.' 'Mademoiselle, in me it were a mockery,' said I; 'for my forefathers were the first to follow the precepts of the Lollards of Kyle.' 'Then their descendants should make amends, by being the first to follow mine. You deem it, as they did, Popish likely? What matter how you name it, or they named it; for, be assured, it is the sign of Heaven: and I shall make three over you,' said she, waving her pretty hand thrice, in the dark, across my eyes and brow. 'Dearest Nicola!' 'If you press my hand thus, I shall take the liberty of withdrawing it. St. Ephrem says, Look at the little birds, when they stretch out their winglets cross-wise--lo! they straight ascend towards heaven; but when they fold them, they fall panting and breathless down to--where?' 'The earth, I presume.' 'Yes--then think of these things.' 'Dear Nicola, I can think only of you.' 'When you have seen Marie Louise of Lorraine, you will think of me no more.'