from the window; and it was only now subsiding.

"I did not mean to offend you," said the young man, penitently.

"Who said that I was offended?" She looked up, with a smile that
only half obliterated the shadow. "I was frightened, Hartley. It is
a fearful storm!" And she glanced toward the window.

The lover accepted this affirmation, though he knew better in his
heart. He knew that his slight attempt at constraint had chafed her
naturally impatient spirit, and that it had taken her some time to
regain her lost self-control.

Without, the wild rush of winds was subsiding, the lightning gleamed
out less frequently, and the thunder rolled at a farther distance.
Then came that deep stillness of nature which follows in the wake of
the tempest, and in its hush the lovers stood again at the window,
looking out upon the wrecks that were strewn in its path. They were
silent, for on both hearts was a shadow, which had not rested there
when they first stood by the window, although the sky was then more
deeply veiled. So slight was the cause on which these shadows
depended that memory scarcely retained its impression. He was
tender, and she was yielding; and each tried to atone by loving acts
for a moment of willfulness.

The sun went down while yet the skirts of the storm were spread over
the western sky, and without a single glance at the ruins which
lightning, wind and rain had scattered over the earth's fair
surface. But he arose gloriously in the coming morning, and went
upward in his strength, consuming the vapors at a breath, and