Richard Manx laid his hand on his breast. "On my honour, no; I speak not of it. I think myself, 'The lady of the house is--a--right. I hear only--a--fancy. I will not trouble. I will let to-morrow come.' It come, and another to-morrow, and another, and still another. Nothing I hear. But to-night--again! I am smoking myself in bed. Be not afraid--I shall not put your house in a fire. It would not be bad. You are what they call insured?" Mrs. Preedy nodded. "Listen you--comes the rain. Ah--and the wind. God in heaven! that fire-flash!" It blinded them for a moment or two. Then, after the briefest interval, pealed the thunder, with a crash which almost deafened them. Instinctively, Richard Manx drew nearer to Mrs. Preedy, and she also moved closer to him. At such times as this, when nature appears to be warring against mortals, the human craving for companionship and visible, palpable sympathy most strongly asserts itself. Either the breaking of the storm, or some other cause, had produced a strange effect upon Becky, whom Mrs. Preedy supposed to be sleeping in the little room adjoining the kitchen; for the girl in her night-dress was kneeling on the ground, with her head close to the door, listening, with her heart and soul in her ears, to the conversation between her mistress and the young man lodger. It would have astonished Mrs. Preedy considerably had she detected her maid-of-all-work in such a position. The thunder and lightning continued for quite five minutes, and then they wandered into the country and awoke the echoes there, leaving the rain behind them, which poured down like a deluge over the greater part of the city. CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH BECKY COMMENCES A LETTER TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY. On the following evening, Becky, the maid-of-all-work, having received a reluctant permission from her mistress to go out until ten o'clock, wrote and posted the following letter:-- * * * * * MY DARLING FRED,--I will now give you an account of all that has passed since I saw your dear face. I could not write to you before to-day, for the reason that I did not get an address until this morning, when I received your dear letter. It was short, but I was overjoyed when the man at the post office gave it to me. He looked at me suspiciously, having a doubt whether I was the person I represented myself to be. I dare say this remark makes you wonder a little; but you would wonder more if you had seen me when I asked for your letter. Now, be patient, and you will soon learn why.