The storm which had abated for a short time was increasing again.  The peals of thunder were more frequent, and with each flash of lightning the horses grew more unmanageable, until at last they flew along the highway at a speed which rocked the carriage from side to side, and began at last to alarm its occupants.  Eloise in her corner was holding fast to the strap, when a lurid flame filled the carriage for an instant with a blaze of light.  She had removed her hat, and her face, silhouetted against the dark cushions, startled both the young men with its beauty.  It was very white, except the cheeks which were flushed with excitement.  Her lips were apart, but her chief beauty was in her eyes, which were full of terror, and which shone like stars as they looked from one young man to the other.

“Oh, I am afraid.  Let me out.  I’d rather walk,” she cried, starting to her feet and grasping the handle of the door.

“Please be quiet.  There is no danger.  You must not get out,” Howard said, laying both his hands on hers, which he held for a moment, and pressed by way of reassuring her as he pushed her gently back into her seat.

She felt the pressure and resented it, and releasing her hands put them behind her, lest in the darkness they should be touched again.  The same lightning which had showed her face to Howard had also given her a glimpse of his black eyes kindling with surprise and admiration at a beauty he had not expected.  A lurch of the carriage sent Jack from his seat, and Eloise felt him close beside her.  Was he going to squeeze her hands, too?  She didn’t know, and was holding them closely pressed behind her, when there was another flash, a deafening peal of thunder, a crash, and the next she knew the rain was falling upon her face, her head was lying against some one’s arm, and two pairs of hands were tugging at her collar and jacket.

“Do you think she is dead?” was asked, in the voice which had told her not to be afraid.

“Dead!” a second voice replied.  “She cannot be dead.  She must not be.  Miss Smith, Miss Smith!  Where are you hurt?”

It was on the arm of this speaker she was lying, and she felt his breath on her face as he bent over her.  With a great effort she moved her head and answered, “I’m not dead, nor hurt either, except my foot, which is twisted under me.”

“Thank God!” Jack said, and instantly the two pairs of hands groped in the dark for the twisted foot.

“Oh!” Eloise cried, sitting upright, as a sharp pain shot from her ankle to her head.  “Don’t touch me.  I can’t bear it.  I am afraid it is broken.  What has happened, and where is the carriage?”

“Home by this time, if Brutus and Cassius have not demolished it in their mad fright,” Howard said, explaining that at the last heavy peal of thunder the horses had swerved from the road and upset the carriage at the entrance to the park; that Sam had been thrown to some distance from the box, but had gathered himself up, and gone after the horses tearing up the avenue.  “I shouted to him to come back with a lantern as quickly as possible.  He’ll be here soon, I think.  Are you in great pain?”