"I can hardly drag one foot after another," she said, "I feel so oppressed and weary." "And I," said Tom, who had taken his place behind her, leaning on the back of her chair, "am as happy as if I were in Paradise." "There must be thunder in the air," said Lucy. "I fancy I smell the lightning already. Oh, dear!" "Are you afraid of lightning, then?" asked Thomas. "I do not think I am exactly; but it shakes me so! I can't explain what I mean. It affects me like a false tone on the violin. No, that's not it. I can't tell what it is like." A fierce flash broke in upon her words. Mrs. Boxall gave a scream. "The Lord be about us from harm!" she cried. Lucy sat trembling. Thomas did not know how much she had to make her tremble. It is wonderful what can be seen in a single moment under an intense light. In that one flash Lucy had seen Mr. Molken and another man seated at a table, casting dice, with the eagerness of hungry fiends upon both their faces. A few moments after the first flash, the wind began to rise, and as flash followed flash, with less and less of an interval, the wind rose till it blew a hurricane, roaring in the chimney and through the archway as if it were a wild beast caged in Guild Court, and wanting to get out. When the second flash came, Lucy saw that the blind of Mr. Molken's window was drawn down. All night long the storm raved about London. Chimney-pots clashed on the opposite pavements. One crazy old house, and one yet more crazy new one, were blown down. Even the thieves and burglars retreated to their dens. But before it had reached its worst Thomas had gone home. He lay awake for some time listening to the tumult and rejoicing in it, for it roused his imagination and the delight that comes of beholding danger from a far-removed safety--a selfish pleasure, and ready to pass from a sense of our own comfort into a complacent satisfaction in the suffering of others.