Madge threw her arms wide, then brought them together in front of her as if keeping him off, and a sort of cry of triumph that had begun to burst from her lips ended in a long moan. Then the room for a moment was so suddenly illuminated by some hellish glare that the candle burned dim, and simultaneously a crack of thunder so appalling shattered the stillness that both leaped apart. "Oh, something is struck!" she cried. "It was as if it was in the very room: Is it me? Is it you? Oh, I am frightened!" But Evelyn hardly seemed to notice it. "That is why--because I love you," he said again. For the moment Madge could neither speak nor move. That sudden double shock, the utter surprise of it all, and, deep down in her heart, the tumult of joy, stunned her. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him. "You must go away at once, or I," she said. "We can't sit in the same room." "But you don't hate me, you don't hate me for what I have said?" cried he. "Hate you?" she said. "No, no, I"--and a sob for the moment choked her--"no, you must not think I hate you." Just then the sound of a footfall outside and a voice in the hall struck in upon them, and Madge's name was called. In another moment the door opened and Lady Ellington entered, followed by Merivale. "Ah, there you are, Madge!" she said. "Has it not been appalling? A tree was struck close to---- Mr. Dundas?" she said, breaking off. Evelyn came a step forward. By a difficult, but on the whole a merciful arrangement, whatever private crisis we pass through, it is essential that the ordinary forms of life be observed. The solid wood may be rent and shattered, but the veneer must remain intact. This is merciful because our thoughts are necessarily occupied in this way with trivial things, whereas if they were suffered to dwell entirely within, no brain could stand the strain. "Yes, I got here just before the storm began," he said, "and Miss Ellington and I have been keeping each other company. We both hate thunder." Madge, too, played at trivialities. "Ah, mother, you are drenched, soaking!" she cried. "What will you do?" "I really urge you not to wait," said Merivale. "Let me show you a room; get your things off and wrap up in blankets till your maid can come from Brockenhurst with some clothes. I will send a boy in with a note at once." Madge went upstairs with her mother to assist her, and Merivale came down again to rejoin Evelyn. "I've only just seen your telegram," he said, "but I'm delighted you have come. That's a brave woman, that Lady Ellington. A tree was struck only a few yards from us, and she merely remarked that it was a great waste of electricity. But I'm glad it was wasted on the tree and not me." He scribbled a few lines and addressed them to Lady Ellington's maid, and went off to get somebody to take the note into Brockenhurst. Then he came back to Evelyn.