"But I don't--that is, I--"

"You don't know whether you hold them or not: I understand quite well.
My husband says in your case it does not matter much; for if you had
ever really believed in Jesus Christ, you could not have done it. At all
events now the thing is done, there is no question about it left. Dear
Juliet, think of us as your friends still, who will always be glad to
see you, and ready to help you where we can."

Juliet was weeping for genuine gladness now. But even as she wept, by
one of those strange movements of our being which those who have been
quickest to question them wonder at the most, it flashed upon her where
she had seen the lady that came from Mr. Drew's house, and her heart
sunk within her, for the place was associated with that portion of her
history which of all she would most gladly hide from herself. During the
rest of the drive she was so silent, that Helen at last gave up trying
to talk to her. Then first she observed how the clouds had risen on all
sides and were meeting above, and that the air was more still and sultry
than ever.

Just as they got within Nestley-gate, a flash of lightning, scarcely
followed by a loud thunder-clap, shot from overhead. The ponies plunged,
reared, swayed asunder from the pole, nearly fell, and recovered
themselves only to dart off in wild terror. Juliet screamed.

"Don't be frightened, child," said Helen. "There is no danger here. The
road is straight and there is nothing on it. I shall soon pull them up.
Only don't cry out: that will be as little to their taste as the
lightning."