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The clouds were gathering in the heavens, and a tempest coming

on. Rapid lightning, cleaving the increasing darkness, illumined

at moments the long roofs and arcades of the building, and the

cupola of the little church: loud claps of thunder resounded with

prolonged echoes through the heavens. Renzo suppressed his

impatience, and accommodated his steps to the strength of the

father, who, exhausted by fatigue, oppressed by disease, and

breathing in pain, could, with difficulty, drag his failing limbs

to the performance of this last act of benevolence.

As they reached the door of the cabin, Renzo stopped, saying, in

a trembling voice, "She is there!" They entered. Lucy arose, and

ran towards the old man, crying-"Oh, what I do see! Oh, Father

Christopher!"

"Well, Lucy! through how much peril has God preserved you! you

must be rejoiced that you have always trusted in Him."

"Ah! yes.-But you, my father! how you are changed! how do you

feel? say, how are you?"