trees, forerunners of the whirlwind of
the _Caronasco_. Luisa opened her umbrella and hastened forward.

A furious downpour overtook her in the dark lanes of Albogasio. But she
never thought of taking refuge in a doorway, and pushed on undaunted.
She met a troop of children who were running away from the rain, after
waiting in vain on the church-place of the Annunciata for the passing of
the Marchesa in the litter. While she was crossing the short space
between the town-hall of Albogasio and the church, the wind turned her
umbrella inside out. She began to run, and reached the strip of ground
behind the church that overlooks the path leading down to the
Calcinera. There, protected by the church from the driving rain, she
righted her umbrella as best she could, and looked over the parapet.

The Annunciata rests upon the summit of a cliff, sparsely covered with
brambles and wild fig-trees, which rises from the foot of the Boglia and
juts out over the lake, shutting in the narrow path to Calcinera on the
west. The strip of ground where Luisa stood runs along that part of the
cliff's brow. From here she could have followed the course of the boat
from the waters of Cressogno as far as the landing-stage, but now that
the rain was pouring down in sheets, a white mist hid all things from
view. However, unless the Marchesa returned to Cressogno, she must
certainly pass that way, no matter where she landed, for there, at the
foot of the cliff, where it juts out with the coast, the narrow stairway
starts upwards, leading from the Calcinera to the church-place, and this
is the only way of reaching Albogasio Superiore either from the
landing-stage below, or from S. Mamette, Casarico, or Cadate.

Presently the violence of the downpour lessened, the dark phantoms of
the mountains began to stand out against the white background. Luisa
gazed down at the lake. There was no gondola on the lake, and no litter
on the path; nothing was to be seen. This troubled her. Was it possible
that the gondola had returned to Cressogno? The mist cleared rapidly,
and Cadate became discernible, while at the door of the boathouse of
the "Palazz" the prow of the gondola appeared, shimmering white in the
thin, grey mist. Ah, the Marchesa had taken refuge at the "Palazz," and
Pasotti with his bearers had done the same. The thunderstorm was now
practically over and the litter would soon appear.

But instead, ten long minutes elapsed. Luisa kept her eyes fixe