“The well is gone dry; we have nothing but rain-water.”

Dudley Venner’s countenance changed; he sprang to his feet and went to assure himself of the fact, and, if he could, of the reason of it.  For a well to dry up during such a rain-storm was extraordinary,—­it was ominous.

He came back, looking very anxious.

“Did any of you notice any remarkable sounds last night,” he said,—­ “or this morning?  Hark! do you hear anything now?”

They listened in perfect silence for a few moments.  Then there came a short cracking sound, and two or three snaps, as of parting cords.

Dudley Venner called all his household together.

“We are in danger here, as I think, to-night,” he said,—­“not very great danger, perhaps, but it is a risk I do not wish you to run.  These heavy rains have loosed some of the rocks above, and they may come down and endanger the house.  Harness the horses, Elbridge, and take all the family away.  Miss Darley will go to the Institute; the others will pass the night at the Mountain House.  I shall stay here, myself:  it is not at all likely that anything will come of these warnings; but if there should, I choose to be here and take my chance.”

It needs little, generally, to frighten servants, and they were all ready enough to go.  The poor relation was one of the timid sort, and was terribly uneasy to be got out of the house.  This left no alternative, of course, for Helen, but to go also.  They all urged upon Dudley Venner to go with them:  if there was danger, why should he remain to risk it, when he sent away the others?

Old Sophy said nothing until the time came for her to go with the second of Elbridge’s carriage-loads.

“Come, Sophy,” said Dudley Venner, “get your things and go.  They will take good care of you at the Mountain House; and when we have made sure that there is no real danger, you shall come back at once.”

“No, Massa!” Sophy answered.  “I’ve seen Elsie into th’ ground, ‘n’ I a’n’t goin’ away to come back ‘n’ fin’ Massa Venner buried under th’ rocks.  My darlin’ ’s gone; ‘n’ now, if Massa goes, ‘n’ th’ ol’ place goes, it’s time for Ol’ Sophy to go, too.  No, Massa Venner, we’ll both stay in th’ ol’ mansion ‘n’ wait for th’ Lord!”

Nothing could change the old woman’s determination; and her master, who only feared, but did not really expect the long-deferred catastrophe, was obliged to consent to her staying.  The sudden drying of the well at such a time was the most alarming sign; for he remembered that the same thing had been observed just before great mountain-slides.  This long rain, too, was just the kind of cause which was likely to loosen the strata of rock piled up in the ledges; if the dreaded event should ever come to pass, it would be at such a time.

He paced his chamber uneasily until long past midnight.  If the morning came without accident, he meant to have a careful examination made of all the rents and fissures above, of their direction and extent, and especially whether, in case of a mountain-slide, the huge masses would be like to reach so far to the east and so low down the declivity as the mansion.