“A storm!” she repeated; “O do then let us make haste. I am not frightened--that is, I am not much frightened, though a storm always makes me think of melancholy things; but papa, I know, will be anxious about us; let us walk very quick.” They hastened on, but Leila suddenly paused for a moment to listen to the sound of distant thunder. “The storm has begun,” she said, in a tone of alarm; “that is thunder;” then quickening her steps, she proceeded more rapidly than before. A second and louder peal succeeded to the first; again and again it lightened, and the thunder seemed every moment to be approaching nearer. Leila trembled all over, and clung to Charles in speechless terror. “Let us get out of the wood,” Charles hastily exclaimed, “we shall be safer in the open field,” and seizing her arm he hurried her forward. At that moment the whole wood seemed lighted up as if on fire; the lightning ran along the ground, a great branch from a tree fell with a loud crash at their feet, and Leila screamed, “Charles, where are you, Charles? I cannot see you--I am blind!” O that moment of inexpressible agony, as he stooped and gazed into her dear face! It was unscathed, but the eyes were shut. “Open your eyes, dear, dear Leila; O do not say you cannot open them. Merciful God, it cannot be!” Alas! it was too true. She tried in vain to raise her eyelids. “I shall never see my papa again,” she almost shrieked out, as she sank upon the ground at Charles’s feet. He lifted her gently in his arms, her head fell upon his shoulder; she became still, he thought she had fainted, but soon he heard her whisper, “It is God who has done it. He loves me, I am His child, and He can comfort my dear, dear papa.” Charles continued to carry her in his arms, but his knees trembled so much he could scarcely get along, and Leila felt a tear drop upon her cheek. “Charles,” she said, “you are weeping. O do not weep for me; God can comfort me, and he _does_. I cannot tell you what I feel now, it seems as if angels were whispering to me.” Then after a little she said again, “But it is for my papa, my own papa. Charles, do not carry me to him at first; carry me to my own room.” She was obeyed. He stole up stairs unperceived by any one, and Leila knelt down by the side of her bed and prayed earnestly. “Now take me to my papa,” she said, as she arose from her knees. “Where are you, Charles?” she exclaimed, as she tried to grasp the empty air. Charles had been watching at the door; he too had offered up a silent earnest prayer; he was now by her side in a moment, and led her to her papa’s room. She tapped at his door. “Come in, my little woman,” Mr. Howard said, in a glad voice, but without raising his eyes from his book. “I am so relieved to hear your little tap; I have been seeking you, Leila. Where have you been during this frightful storm? Why don’t you come in, love?” [Illustration: LEILA AT HOME. Page 248.]