At the back of the house was a long passage, which terminated at one end in the room where he slept, and at the other in that occupied by Elizabeth and Beatrice.
This passage was lit by two windows, and built out of it were two more rooms--that of Mr.Granger, and another which had been Effie's.

The windows of the passage, like most of the others in the Vicarage, were innocent of shutters, and Geoffrey stood for a moment at one of them, watching the lightning illumine the broad breast of the mountain behind.
Then looking towards the door of Beatrice's room, he gazed at it with the peculiar reverence that sometimes afflicts people who are very much in love, and, with a sigh, turned and sought his own.
He could not sleep, it was impossible.

For nearly two hours he lay turning from side to side, and thinking till his brain seemed like to burst.

To-morrow he must leave her, leave her for ever, and go back to his coarse unprofitable struggle with the world, where there would be no Beatrice to make him happy through it all.

And she, what of her?
The storm had lulled a little, now it came back in strength, heralded by the lightning.