Suddenly there was a flash of forked lightning at some distance,
followed in a few seconds by a roll of thunder increasing in
intensity until the last reverberation seemed to shake the ground.
They took refuge in a little barn and sat down. Madge, who was timid
and excited in a thunderstorm, closed her eyes to shield herself from
the glare.

The tumult in the heavens lasted for nearly two hours and, when it
was over, Madge and Frank walked homewards without speaking a word
for a good part of the way.

'I cannot, cannot go to-morrow,' he suddenly cried, as they neared
the town.

'You SHALL go,' she replied calmly.

'But, Madge, think of me in Germany, think what my dreams and
thoughts will be--you here--hundreds of miles between us.'

She had never seen him so shaken with terror.

'You SHALL go; not another word.'

'I must say something--what can I say? My God, my God, have mercy on
me!'

'Mercy! mercy!' she repeated, half unconsciously, and then rousing
herself, exclaimed, 'You shall not say it; I will not hear; now,
good-bye.'