The rain fell in torrents, like hail upon the shingled roof;
the blue-forked lightning flashed viciously, followed instantaneously by
peals of thunder that rattled every casement, and made the dishes dance
on the breakfast table. The doctor had been with his patient; and as the
clergymen were about to conduct family worship, he whispered to them
that the soul might slip away during the terrors of the storm, as he had
often seen before. It was a very solemn and awful time. In vain Mrs.
Carmichael, aided by the other ladies, sought to make her daughter rest
or even partake of food. How could she? The storm outside was nothing to
that which raged in her own breast, calm as was her outward demeanour.
Marjorie crouched on the mat outside the bed-room door, and quietly
sobbed herself to sleep amid the crash of the elements. But, when
another sad dinner was over, the colonel and Mr. Terry bethought them of
asking the detective if he knew of the inner lake on the shore of which
Tillycot stood. He did not, but saw the importance of searching there.
As the last of the rain had ceased, he proposed to explore it, but told
the Squire, with whom he communicated, that the skiff his informants had
mentioned was not at the place where first found, or anywhere on that
lake.
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