All indecision, all mournful forebodings were over; he felt again as the head of his house should feel.

Before him stood, blooming in youth and health, the future of his family.

He took it as an omen, as the voice of fate to him in the hour of decision.

"And now," said he, "come home; there is no further need for our remaining in the rain." While the baroness drew her son down by her on the sofa, and never wearied of looking at and admiring him, the baron sat at the window and watched the torrents of rain.

Brighter grew the flashes, and shorter the interval between them and the thunder's roll.
"Shut the window," said she; "the storm comes this way." "It will do our house no harm," replied her husband, encouragingly.