"No. But one year may contain the whole history of my future."

As she spoke, the clouds gathered round the solitary star to which Lucilla
had pointed. The storm was at hand; they felt its approach, and turned
homeward.

There is something more than ordinarily fearful in the tempests that visit
those soft and garden climes. The unfrequency of such violent changes in
the mood of nature serves to appal us as with an omen; it is like a sudden
affliction in the midst of happiness--or a wound from the hand of one we
love. For the stroke for which we are not prepared we have rather
despondency than resistance.

As they reached their home, the heavy rain-drops began to fall. They
stood for some minutes at the casement, watching the coruscations of the
lightning as it played over the black and heavy waters of the lake.
Lucilla, whom the influences of nature always strangely and mysteriously
affected, clung pale and almost trembling to Godolphin; but even in her
fear there was delight in being so near to him in whose love alone she
thought there was protection. Oh what luxury so dear to a woman as is the
sense of dependence! Poor Lucilla! it was the last evening she ever
spent with one whom she worshipped so entirely.

Godolphin remained up longer than Lucilla. When he joined her in her
room, the storm had ceased; and he found her standing by the open window,
and gazing on the skies that were now bright and serene. Far in the deep
stillness of midnight crept the waters of the lake, hushed once more into
silence, and reflecting the solemn and unfathomable stars. That chain of
hills, which but to name, awakens countless memories of romance, stretched
behind--their blue and dim summits melting into the skies, and over one