“I suppose Milly will cry a little, for I do believe she likes me, and always has; but I can’t help it. The match was agreed upon by our families when she was twelve and I fifteen. Of course I’m awfully sick of it, and have been ever since I knew you,” and Herbert’s lips touched the white brow where only half an hour before Adam Floyd’s had been. Thicker, and blacker, grew the darkness around them, while the thunder was louder and nearer, and still they sat together, Anna hesitating, while Herbert urged upon her the necessity of going with him the following night, if ever. Mildred in the neighborhood would be as formidable an obstacle to him as Adam was to Anna, while he feared the result of another interview between the affianced pair. With all his love for Anna he was not blind to the fact that the last one with whom she talked had the better chance of eventually winning. He could not lose her now, and he redoubled his powers of persuasion, until, forgetting everything, save the handsome youth beside her, the wealthy heir of Castlewild, Anna said to him, “I will meet you at our gate when the village clock strikes one!” and as she said the words the woods were lighted up by a flash of lightning so fearfully bright and blinding that with a scream of terror she hid her face in her lap and stopped her ears to shut out the deafening roll of the thunder. The storm had burst in all its fury, and hurrying from the woods, Herbert half carried, half led the frightened Anna across the fields in the direction of her father’s door. Depositing her at the gate, he paused for an instant to whisper his parting words and then hastened rapidly on. On the kitchen hearth a cheerful wood fire had been kindled, and making some faint excuse for having been out in the storm, Anna repaired thither, and standing before the blaze was drying her dripping garments, when a voice from the adjoining room made her start and tremble, for she knew that it was Adam’s. He seemed to be excited and was asking for her. An accident had occurred just before his door. Frightened by the lightning which Anna remembered so well, a pair of spirited horses had upset a traveling carriage, in which was a young lady and her maid. The latter had sustained no injury, but the lady’s ankle was sprained, and she was otherwise so lamed and bruised that it was impossible for her to proceed any farther that night. So he had carried her into his cottage and dispatching the driver for the physician had come himself for Anna as the suitable person to play the hostess in his home. “Oh, I can’t go,—mother, you!” Anna exclaimed, shrinking in terror from again crossing the threshold of the home she was about to make so desolate.