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CLOTELLE MEETS HER FATHER.
THE clouds that had skirted the sky during the day broke at last, and the rain fell in torrents, as Jerome and Clotelle retired for the night, in the little town of Ferney, on the borders of Lake Leman.

The peals of thunder, and flashes of vivid lightening, which seemed to leap from mountain to mountain and from crag to crag, reverberating among the surrounding hills, foretold a heavy storm.
"I would we were back at Geneva," said Clotelle, as she heard groans issuing from an adjoining room.

The sounds, at first faint, grew louder and louder, plainly indicating that some person was suffering extreme pain.
"I did not like this hotel, much, when we came in," said Jerome, relighting the lamp, which had been accidentally extinguished.
"Nor I," returned Clotelle.
The shrieks increased, and an occasional "she's dead!" "I killed her!" "No, she is not dead!" and such-like expressions, would be heard from the person, who seemed to be deranged.
The thunder grew louder, and the flashes of lightening more vivid, while the noise from the sick-room seemed to increase.
As Jerome opened the door, to learn, if possible, the cause of the cries and groans, he could distinguish the words, "She's dead! yes, she's dead! but I did not kill her.

She was my child! my own daughter.