Whilst De Freston kept his silent watch, the grumbling clouds gave intimation of a coming storm. It had been a murkey night, and sweeping folds of darkness had spread themselves over the sky: but now the thunder began to roll, and the lightning to illuminate the waters of the Orwell, and for successive moments to darken even the torches of the boats. Ellen De Freston and her maid were in the tower, watching for the expected return of Lord De Freston's boat. On such a night, though her father had not charged her to remain there, but to let a light be burning in her usual lofty apartment, she had chosen to keep watch for her friend's return. The light was seen in the Tower, and the boatmen were guided by it and by the light in the belfry of the Monastery as certain beacons for their safety. But every now and then the murky darkness of the clouds, and the vivid flashes of the lightning, would alike obscure these beacons from their sight. They could see the windows of the little chapel they had left faintly illuminated by the wax tapers within. Latimer felt a degree of sorrow for his lord, that on such a night he should be exposing himself to a long and dreary watch, instead of being calmly at rest upon his pillow in his own castle. It is true, that his anxieties were somewhat roused by the roar of the elements, but he had six stout rowers, who knew the channel well, and though they declared that their boat had never been so tossed about before upon the river, yet they had no doubt of soon reaching the landing place beneath the shades of Freston. The wind was dead ahead against them, and the short successive gusts which blew directly down upon them, seemed to chop the waves into spray as they dashed along. The torches of twisted rope and pitch held by two men astern required the greatest dexterity in holding them lest they should be jerked into the waters. Nothing but complete immersion could extinguish them: for even if the wind blew them out, it soon blew them in again, and the first billow found the flame again aspiring. But every now and then the boat struck against a piece of timber, either the arm of some tree, or the mast of some vessel, or a piece of wreckage, which rather alarmed the most experienced boatmen of the party. One flambeau was sent forward, and the man held it as high as he could, to give notice of any coming danger. 'If our friends going home have not better luck than we have,' said one of the men, 'we shall hear of their being capsized or driven ashore. Thy have, however, wind and tide in their favor and will scud homewards pretty quickly. Pull away, my hearties!' This was the language of young Harry Benns, whose ancestors had for years been servants of the Lord De Freston, and the same youth was attached and engaged to the serving maid of Ellen De Freston.