elements must indeed be dreadful, as seeming to declare the anger of an offended God."—Like the Poet, Madeline thought that such a heart would think
———The tempest blew his wrath,
The thunder was his voice, and the red flash
His speedy sword of justice.
Chilled by the melancholy prospect, she closed the shutter, and returned to the fire, before which her companions were now slumbering. In deep and pensive meditation, she sat a considerable time with her eyes fixed upon the crackling blaze, when the heavy crash of something falling in the lower part of the Castle, startled not only her, but her companions.
"Holy virgin! (exclaimed Agatha, turning pale), defend us—'tis the armour that has fallen."
"You had better try," (said Madeline, in a faint voice).
"Try (repeated Agatha); Lord, not for the world."
