CHAPTER XXVII.

"WHEN my brother praises Vidocq so warmly--" Edith began, as she and Marian were wending their way up the tower stair; but before she had time to continue the sentence, Vidocq, hastening to answer Lockart's bell, came from a door leading to the servant's quarters.

He bowed low and stood back while the girls passed on. More graceful civility never was seen; and deferential regard for his master's sister could scarcely have been more strongly expressed than it was by the valet's gravity.

"Wasn't it lucky he did not meet us a moment later," said Edith, almost in a whisper, when she and her friend had reached the Lantern, and carefully shut themselves in, "since I was on the point of saying, that when Angus speaks so of him I am always at a loss whether to think he is simple, or is speaking ironically? Sometimes I fancy that he quite sees through the man, and plays with him with some secret object in view, while at other times I can hardly help believing that he sincerely thinks all the good he says of him."

"My ear seemed to catch a sort of suppressed bitterness in your brother's tones; such as one would expect to hear in ironical praise," said Marian, thoughtfully.

I should be quite easy

"I'm so glad you felt that. if I thought Angus understood Vidocq; who, by the bye, must have come into the house the moment you closed the shutters."

"The bitterness in his tone, Edith, was when he spoke of Vidocq's regard for Lady Lockart. Perhaps he has reason to think that Vidocq was not sincere in that."

"You are very quick, Marian. It is certain that Vidocq told Angus some wicked story about Dina, and Angus may suspect that he did more than merely retail it. For my part, I could easily believe him at the bottom of all Lady Lockart's misfortunes. He may have known that she tried to have him put away, and one can see that he is revengeful. Ah! what a flash!"

"Let us put out the candles and watch the lightning," said Marian, drawing up the blind of one of the frout windows.

Edith, after a momentary hesitation, looked out a match-box, and having placed it on the table to be at hand, she extinguished the candles, and seated herself, perhaps a little timidly, beside Marian at the window.

The storm seemed to be concentrated over the fields a short distance north of the house, but some of the thunder-peals were so violent and prolonged, that they rattled right over the old roofs of the house like batteries of artillery, and shook the window-sashes.

"Oh, did you see that?" cried Marian, almost with a gasp.

It was worth seeing that flash: every wet leaf on the avenue trees sparkled like a jewel, and, for the moment, the wood had all the weird splendour of fairyland; and then what a dread intensity there was in the utter blackness of darkness which succeeded!

VOL. II.

F

"Beautiful!" said Edith, forgetting the destructive character of the dazzling fire which now every few seconds scribbled fantastic lines on the dark tablets of the sky.

"How the thunder rolls!" remarked Marian, after they had sat for several minutes at the window.

"Yes, dear; the storm has almost passed us now." The charged cloud had come up to, and was already retiring from the house towards the Pentlands.

Look," Edith continued, "now we see only the glare on the trees. The darting forks are behind us. But for the danger, I'd wish them not to go away so soon."

"One would run just about the same risk anywhere else," said Marian, "otherwise I should be afraid to sit here."

"I don't know that," replied her friend, "they say lightning is most apt to strike the highest objects, and this tower is higher than the roof of the house."

"But many of the trees are higher still, Edy. Ah!" The exclamation was caused by a sharp explosion and sudden jingle of metal in the fireplace, followed by the falling of something on the floor, and what sounded. like the instantaneous splintering of the door leading to the turret stair.

A parting shot from the elemental battle had entered the chimney, and, as it seemed, exploded like a shell in the grate, but unlike a shell, had gathered itself up again, and plunged through the door. For a single instant only, the room had been illuminated by the deadly visitant, and in the total darkness that followed, the extent of the mischief done could not be seen.

The girls were unhurt, and tightened their arms round each other to make sure that such was the case.

They both quaked miserably, and hardly dared to breathe. Presently a ghastly gleam of pallid light, shed by a distant flash, showed them the grate and door lying in fragments.

"Marian!"

"Edy, dear!"

They shuddered mutually. A few minutes passed thus, and then it was evident that the storm had gone quite away from the house, and was raging over other homes.

"We, at least, are safe," said Marian; "but your brother?"

Oh, let us go, dear, and look for him; do come with me," said Edith.

They got up, and with their arms still encircling each other, advanced tremblingly.

"Not that way, dear," whispered Edith, holding back her friend, who was guiding her with feeling steps towards the turret stair.

Edith thought that the lightning, having broken the door, had probably darted down the stair, and she had no mind to follow it!

"We must go by the trap into my room."

Neither seemed to wish for a light as they groped their way singly down the sort of ladder stair that connected the tower-room with Edith's bed-chamber. The boom of occasional thunder still reached them, and in the darkness they vaguely imagined themselves hidden from the storm. From Edith's room they passed, feeling their way, into the principal stair, and by it to the drawing-room floor, on which Lockart slept. A few feet of passage brought them in front of his door, which stood ajar. The room seemed to be lit by intermittent

flames, and not far from the door they saw Lockart standing supported by his sticks, and looking alternately at the corner of the room whence the light proceeded, and at a curled-up figure near him. The figure was that of Vidocq, who, seemingly palsied by fear, lay on the floor. A somewhat sardonic smile played on Lockart's lips.

'Angus!" exclaimed Edith, almost with a scream. He turned, and instantly his expression changed. 'Ring the great bell," he cried imperatively.

Edith retreated instantly, followed by Marian, and together the girls pulled at a rope in the stair-case, which communicated with an iron bell hung over the roof of the tower. No sound followed their pulling. Their efforts were redoubled, but still no bell jangled above them.

"The lightning must have struck it," said Edith in dismay.

But the flaring light within the window of Lockart's room had already spread alarm outside, and knocks, redoubled impatiently, sounded from the house door. Edith and Marian hurried down, and had unlocked the door before any of the house domestics were roused by the noise. The coachman and two grooms entered breathless, and, scarcely waiting for Edith's orders, stumbled up the stair.

When the girls got back to Lockart's door they heard the hissing of water falling on fire, and the men were rushing in and out of the room with wash-basins, which they got filled with water at a tap in the passage. Angus stood near the door still, and directed their efforts, without visible excitement. The alarm and agitation of others always cooled him. He stopped