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74 branches, and a wind which was like a hurricane in voice and might. Suddenly the thunder itself was lost in the tremendous fall of an old oak, which, struck by the lightning, reeled, like an overthrown giant, to the earth. It sank directly before the spot which sheltered the fugitives; some of its boughs swept against those of the ilex over their heads; a shower of leaves fell upon Beatrice, and with the next flash she could see nothing but the huge branches which blocked them in. But even the terror that another bolt might strike the very tree over them, was lost in a still more agonising dread. How could her mother sleep through a tumult like this? Beatrice touched her hands—they felt like marble; she bent over her mouth, but the arm prevented her touching the lips; and the attitude in which she lay equally hindered her from feeling if her heart beat; but the upper part of the face was as cold, she thought, as death. "Great God! I have killed my mother." She bent to raise her in her arms—she might thus ascertain if her heart beat. Again she paused and wrung her hands in the agony of indecision. She had heard, that those whom noise could not wake