When I awoke the room was dark, for the lamp had died down. Paudeen, who always sleeps on a mat at my door, was howling in the most melancholy way, but, full of horror and omen as a dog's howl is, I did not think it was that which had wakened me. For a second or two I lay dazed and terrified. Then Esther stirred at my side. "Oh, Hilda! what is it?" she cried. "What a horrible night it is! I think something terrible has happened." "I will see," said I, getting out of bed in the dark. As my foot touched the floor Paudeen again raised his voice. I ran to the door and opened it, and spoke to the dog. He was trembling as he came in fawning against my feet. The house outside was full of the gray dawn, and on the glass skylight overhead I heard the rain streaming. But another sound than the rain was in our ears. There was a roaring as of many waters, a groaning and rumbling as of the earth itself. One could hardly say if it was near or distant; it seemed all about us. I opened the shutters with a hand that shook. "Oh, Hilda," moaned Esther again, "what has happened? It is like the Day of Judgment." "Something has happened," I replied, "or is happening, but old Brandon is safe. I'm afraid there must be a great flood, or an earthquake, or something, but we are firm. There is not a tremor in the house." I took up Paudeen, who was shivering miserably, and put him into my bed. "There, you two poor frightened things," said I, "comfort each other." But I did not feel at all so brave myself. Just then there came a knocking at the door, and Hugh's voice. "Are you awake, Hilda?" "Yes, and up," I answered. "What has happened?" "I can't tell yet, except that I believe we are safe. Dress yourself and come out till we see. The rain is leaving off." Esther and I dressed ourselves hastily, and joined the two boys. As we went downstairs the twins came flying after us, and we met Oona coming up from below. "Go up and see if Miss Aline is awake," I said to her. "We must not leave an empty house." "Don't go into any danger, childher," she said with a groan, and then broke out into a string of _wirra wirrasthrues_. But Donald, who had been the first to open the hall door, came running back. "There is a flood or something over at Angry," he cried. "Stay back, you young ones, you can look from the windows; but there may be help needed, and men. Keep them at home, Hilda," he said to me. "No," I said, "I will go to watch over you boys. I dare not let you go alone." "It is the bog! it is the bog!" cried Oona suddenly; "an' there are little houses in its thrack, an' little childher, an' men an' women! Oh, Lord, have mercy! The time the bog was out at Docra five-an'-forty years ago, my own sister and her three little childher were among the dead!" She flung her apron over her head, and began rocking herself to and fro. I pushed her into a great chair that was in the hall.