In the Storm

           LeatherheadisabouttwelvemilesfromMayburyHill. ThescentofhaywasintheairthroughthelushmeadowsbeyondPyrford,andthehedgesoneithersideweresweetandgaywithmultitudesofdog-roses. TheheavyfiringthathadbrokenoutwhileweweredrivingdownMayburyHillceasedasabruptlyasitbegan,leavingtheeveningverypeacefulandstill. WegottoLeatherheadwithoutmisadventureaboutnineo’clock,andthehorsehadanhour’srestwhileItooksupperwithmycousinsandcommendedmywifetotheircare. 

           Mywifewascuriouslysilentthroughoutthedrive,andseemedoppressedwithforebodingsofevil. Italkedtoherreassuringly,pointingoutthattheMartiansweretiedtothePitbysheerheaviness,andattheutmostcouldbutcrawlalittleoutofit; butsheansweredonlyinmonosyllables. Haditnotbeenformypromisetotheinnkeeper,shewould,Ithink,haveurgedmetostayinLeatherheadthatnight. WouldthatIhad! Herface,Iremember,wasverywhiteasweparted. 

           Formyownpart,Ihadbeenfeverishlyexcitedallday. Somethingverylikethewarfeverthatoccasionallyrunsthroughacivilisedcommunityhadgotintomyblood,andinmyheartIwasnotsoverysorrythatIhadtoreturntoMayburythatnight. IwasevenafraidthatthatlastfusilladeIhadheardmightmeantheexterminationofourinvadersfromMars. IcanbestexpressmystateofmindbysayingthatIwantedtobeinatthedeath. 

           ItwasnearlyelevenwhenIstartedtoreturn. Thenightwasunexpectedlydark; tome,walkingoutofthelightedpassageofmycousins’house,itseemedindeedblack,anditwasashotandcloseastheday. Overheadthecloudsweredrivingfast,albeitnotabreathstirredtheshrubsaboutus.