This was a
cheering idea, and I was planning how we might arrange with the
negro woman who managed my household affairs to attend also to
those of Jack when I fell asleep.
I did not sleep long before I was awakened by the increased
violence of the storm. My house shook with the fury of the wind.
The rain seemed to be pouring on its roof and northern side as if
there were a waterfall above us, and every now and then I could
hear a shower of hailstones rattling against the shutters. My
bedroom was one of the rooms on the lower floor, and even there I
could hear the pounding of the deluge and the hailstones upon the
roof.
All this was very doleful, and had a tendency to depress the
spirits of a man awake and alone in a good-sized house. But I
shook off this depression. It was, not agreeable to be up here
by myself in such a terrible storm, but there was nothing to be
afraid of, as my house was new and very strongly built, being
constructed of logs, weather-boarded outside and ceiled within.
It would require a hurricane to blow off the roof, and I believed
my shutters to be hail-proof. So, as there was no reason to
stay awake, I turned over and went to sleep.
I do not know how long it was before I was awakened again,
this time not by the noise of the storm, but by a curious
movement of my bedstead. I had once felt the slight shock of an
earthquake, and it seemed to me that this must be something of
the kind. Certainly my bed moved under me.
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