of one who is the whole world to them before they can enter into my feelings—­for in that state, the mind working unrestrained by the will makes strange and fanciful combinations with outward circumstances and weaves the chances and changes of nature into an immediate connexion with the event they dread.  It was with this feeling that I turned to the old Steward who stood pale and trembling beside me; “Mark, Gaspar, if the next flash of lightning rend not that oak my father will be alive.”

I had scarcely uttered these words than a flash instantly followed by a tremendous peal of thunder descended on it; and when my eyes recovered their sight after the dazzling light, the oak no longer stood in the meadow—­The old man uttered a wild exclamation of horror when he saw so sudden an interpretation given to my prophesy.  I started up, my strength returned; [sic] with my terror; I cried, “Oh, God!  Is this thy decree?  Yet perhaps I shall not be too late.”

Although still several miles distant we continued to approach the sea.  We came at last to the road that led to the town of——­and at an inn there we heard that my father had passed by somewhat before sunset; he had observed the approaching storm and had hired a horse for the next town which was situated a mile from the sea that he might arrive there before it should commence:  this town was five miles off.  We hired a chaise here, and with four horses drove with speed through the storm.  My garments were wet and clung around me, and my hair hung in straight locks on my neck when not blown aside by the wind.  I shivered, yet my pulse was high with fever.  Great God!  What agony I endured.  I shed no tears but my eyes wild and inflamed were starting from my head; I could hardly support the weight that pressed upon my brain.  We arrived at the town of ——­ in a little more than half an hour.  When my father had arrived the storm had already begun, but he had refused to stop and leaving his horse there he walked on—­towards the sea.  Alas! it was double cruelty in him to have chosen the sea for his fatal resolve; it was adding madness to my despair.[41]

The poor old servant who was with me endeavoured to persuade me to remain here and to let him go alone—­I shook my head silently and sadly; sick almost to death I leant upon his arm, and as there was no road for a chaise dragged my weary steps across the desolate downs to meet my fate, now too certain for the agony of doubt.  Almost fainting I slowly approached the fatal waters; when we had quitted the town we heard their roaring[.] I whispered to myself in a muttering voice—­“The sound is the same as that which I heard in my dream.  It is the knell of my father which I hear."[42]