There came on one of those wild winter-storms, common enough in these regions-- brief, but fierce while they last.
"You can not go home," said the earl to Mrs.Bruce, who remained with him, the minister having departed with his son Duncan early in the evening.

"Stay here till to-morrow.

Cardross, persuade your mother.
You never yet spent a night under my roof.

Helen, will you do it his once?
I shall never ask you again." There was an earnest entreaty in his manner which Helen could not resist; and hardly knowing why she did it, she consented.

Her son went off to his bed, fairly worn out with pleasurable excitement, and she staid with Lord Cairnforth, as he seemed to wish, for another half hour.
They sat by the library fire, listening to the rain beating and the wind howling--not continuously, but coming and going in frantic blasts, which seemed like the voices of living creatures borne on its wings.
"Do you mind, Helen, it was just such a night as this when Mr.Menteith died, before I went to Edinburg?
The sort of wind that, they say, is always sent to call away souls.