THE GRANDMOTHER'S SHOE.
to me, became, to my apprehension, a source of rest, and brought a consciousness of protection.
There was nothing else to trust in during that great danger; but it was enough. I was quite alone, and though sometimes a little stunned by the noise, was able to distinguish the strange sounds, the creaking and crashing of boughs of trees, the lowing of the frightened cattle, the distressed cries of the rooks. The very house itself seemed endowed with power to complain, and groaned and trembled to its foundation.
One other incident I remember of that half-hour: something soft had brushed across my hands; I lifted up my face, and saw two trembling, dripping swallows sitting on my pillow!
And now the sound of drenching rain was added to the tumult of the thunder. I remained kneeling, but was no longer afraid. Then came a short pause, and I thought I would get up and look for Lucy's father. I did not doubt that my fault was forgiven, but my head was still a little confused with the noise, and I wished to tell him my fault without considering whether this was a convenient season.
I wandered about, but could find no one; I opened several doors; at length I came to the upper room so often mentioned, advanced to the red curtain and looked in. There I saw him and the grandmother sitting side by side, perfectly composed, but with somewhat awe-struck faces; the son was holding his mother by the hand, and they were quite silent. I came in and stood beside him for a few minutes; the storm was clearing off with magical celerity, and two minutes after the last tremendous clap of thunder, the
