ed that I would kindly comfort and reassure
Constance, who was much upset, while she herself returned to her guests.

I led Constance to my bedroom, where there was a bright fire burning,
and calmed her as best I could. Her interest in my brother was evidently
very real and unaffected, and while not admitting her partiality for him
in words, she made no effort to conceal her sentiments from me. I kissed
her tenderly, and bade her narrate the circumstances of John's attack.

It seemed that after supper they had gone upstairs into the music-room,
and he had himself proposed that they should walk thence into the
picture-gallery, where they would better he able to see the lightning,
which was then particularly vivid. The picture-gallery at Royston is a
very long, narrow, and rather low room, running the whole length of the
south wing, and terminating in a large Tudor oriel or flat bay window
looking east. In this oriel they had sat for some time watching the
flashes, and the wintry landscape revealed for an instant and then
plunged into outer blackness. The gallery itself was not illuminated,
and the effect of the lightning was very fine.

There had been an unusually bright flash accompanied by that single
reverberating peal of thunder which I had previously noticed. Constance
had spoken to my brother, but he had not replied, and in a moment she
saw that he had swooned. She summoned aid without delay, but it was some
short time before consciousness had been restored to him.

She had concluded this narrative, and sat holding my hand in hers. We
were speculating on the cause of my brother's illness, thinking it might
be due to over-exertion, or to sitting in a chilly atmosphere as the
picture-gallery was not warmed, when Mrs. Temple knocked at the door and
said that John was now more composed and desired earnestly to see me.

On entering my brother's bedroom I found him sitting up in bed wearing a
dressing-gown. Parnham, his valet, who was arranging the fire, left the
room as I came in. A chair stood at the head of the bed and I sat down
by him. He took my hand in his and without a word burst into tears.
"Sophy," he said, "I am so unhappy, and I have sent for you to tell you
of my trouble, because I know you will be forbearing to me. An hour
ago all seemed so bright. I was sitting in the picture-gallery with
Constance, whom I love dearly. We had been watching the lightning, till
the thunder had grown fainter and the storm