He was ashy pale, but no other indication of the dreadful apprehension under which he was suffering was visible on his countenance, and not being able to nerve himself to bear the sight of his wife’s agonies, should she know how strong were the grounds for her fears, he endeavored to make light of them. “Oh, my dear, do not be in trouble about George; he’s far beyond the reach of this little squall; he and Dick have probably been in New York these two hours.” (Mr. Fayerweather hoped devoutly to be forgiven for thus belying his conscience, well-knowing that implicit confidence would be placed in his assurances.) “He and Dick, I have no doubt, are now patroling the streets with eyes and mouths wide open at the wonders they see.” “Well, I am rejoiced if they are out of the reach of this hurricane; but I hope Captain Seaward will not trust them alone in New York streets; I have always heard it is a terrible place for children. Sometimes they are kidnapped as I have heard tell,” replied Mrs. Fayerweather, her fears somewhat quieted. “Oh, you need not be afraid of that, my dear; the captain promised faithfully that he would not suffer George to go out of his sight,” said her husband as he left the apartment, and Amy resumed her book. The gust, after several vain attempts to shake the solid old mansion from its foundation, at length relaxed its efforts and fell into a calm; the sky cleared up and the sun went down in tranquil beauty. Before its disc had wholly disappeared, however, it was surrounded by a light haze, which gradually spreading and deepening, at length assumed the form of a dark thunder-cloud, reaching nearly to the zenith.