“But I don’t—­that is, I—­”

“You don’t know whether you hold them or not:  I understand quite well.  My husband says in your case it does not matter much; for if you had ever really believed in Jesus Christ, you could not have done it.  At all events now the thing is done, there is no question about it left.  Dear Juliet, think of us as your friends still, who will always be glad to see you, and ready to help you where we can.”

Juliet was weeping for genuine gladness now.  But even as she wept, by one of those strange movements of our being which those who have been quickest to question them wonder at the most, it flashed upon her where she had seen the lady that came from Mr. Drew’s house, and her heart sunk within her, for the place was associated with that portion of her history which of all she would most gladly hide from herself.  During the rest of the drive she was so silent, that Helen at last gave up trying to talk to her.  Then first she observed how the clouds had risen on all sides and were meeting above, and that the air was more still and sultry than ever.

Just as they got within Nestley-gate, a flash of lightning, scarcely followed by a loud thunder-clap, shot from overhead.  The ponies plunged, reared, swayed asunder from the pole, nearly fell, and recovered themselves only to dart off in wild terror.  Juliet screamed.

“Don’t be frightened, child,” said Helen.  “There is no danger here.  The road is straight and there is nothing on it.  I shall soon pull them up.  Only don’t cry out:  that will be as little to their taste as the lightning.”

Juliet caught at the reins.

“For God’s sake, don’t do that!” cried Helen, balking her clutch.  “You will kill us both.”

Juliet sunk back in her seat.  The ponies went at full speed along the road.  The danger was small, for the park was upon both sides, level with the drive, in which there was a slight ascent.  Helen was perfectly quiet, and went on gradually tightening her pull upon the reins.  Before they reached the house, she had entirely regained her command of them.  When she drew up to the door, they stood quite steady, but panting as if their little sides would fly asunder.  By this time Helen was red as a rose; her eyes were flashing, and a smile was playing about her mouth; but Juliet was like a lily on which the rain has been falling all night:  her very lips were bloodless.  When Helen turned and saw her, she was far more frightened than the ponies could make her.

“Why, Juliet, my dear!” she said, “I had no thought you were so terrified!  What would your husband say to me for frightening you so!  But you are safe now.”

A servant came to take the ponies.  Helen got out first, and gave her hand to Juliet.

“Don’t think me a coward, Helen,” she said.  “It was the thunder.  I never could bear thunder.”

“I should be far more of a coward than you are, Juliet,” answered Helen, “if I believed, or even feared, that just a false step of little Zephyr there, or one plunge more from Zoe, might wipe out the world, and I should never more see the face of my husband.”