Sylvia had a New England conscience, but, like all New England consciences, it was susceptible of hard twists to bring it into accordance with New England will.
The thunder-tempest, as Sylvia termed it, continued.

She kept glancing, from her station of safety, at the streaming windows.

She was becoming very much worried about Henry.

At last she saw a figure, bent to the rainy wind, pass swiftly before the side windows of the sitting-room.

She was on her feet in an instant, although at that minute the room was filled with blue flame followed by a terrific crash.