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Rh and the darkness were so fearful in their stillness! A single star—a tone from a familiar voice—she would have blessed. How long the time seemed! As the night deepened, all her efforts against sleep were unavailing: more she dared not. Amid such utter darkness, the chances were, that if she left her mother's side, she might not again find her place. Sleep did overcome her—that feverish, broken sleep, which renews, in some fantastic manner, the fears of our waking. Even this was disturbed. Was it a sound in her dream, or some actual noise, that made her start up in all that vague gasping terror which follows when abruptly roused? All was still for a moment; and then a flash, or rather flood of lightning glared away the darkness—the fountain for an instant was like a basin of fire—every tree, ay, every bough, leaf, and flower, were as distinct as by day: one second more, and the thunder shook the very ground.

Beatrice perceived that it was one of those awful storms which gather on the lofty mountains, and but leave their mighty cradles to pour destruction on the vales below. Flash succeeded flash, peal followed peal, mixed with the