'Bon papa, forgive me.

Thy little girl wishes no longer to leave thee;' but no one answered, and I lay there in terror.

Gradually I grew calmer--after that fearful crash the thunder claps seemed to grow less violent.

I looked up at last.

What did I see?
The tree next to my pommier--the one but a yard or two from my bench--stood black and charred as if the burning hand of a great giant had grasped it; already some of its branches strewed the ground.