CHAPTER XIX.
"THEY SHALL NOT PASS" One cold grey morning in February Gertrude Oliver wakened with a shiver, slipped into Rilla's room, and crept in beside her.
"Rilla--I'm frightened--frightened as a baby--I've had another of my strange dreams.

Something terrible is before us--I know." "What was it ?" asked Rilla.
"I was standing again on the veranda steps--just as I stood in that dream on the night before the lighthouse dance, and in the sky a huge black, menacing thunder cloud rolled up from the east.

I could see its shadow racing before it and when it enveloped me I shivered with icy cold.

Then the storm broke--and it was a dreadful storm--blinding flash after flash and deafening peal after peal, driving torrents of rain.

I turned in panic and tried to run for shelter, and as I did so a man--a soldier in the uniform of a French army officer--dashed up the steps and stood beside me on the threshold of the door.