ed to say the word," said Belle, "but to oblige you I
will decline it as you wish;" and thereupon Belle declined Master in
Armenian.

"You have declined the noun very well," said I; "that is in the singular
number; we will now go to the plural."

"What is the plural?" said Belle.

"That which implies more than one, for example, Masters; you shall now go
through Masters in Armenian."

"Never," said Belle, "never; it is bad to have one master, but more I
would never bear, whether in Armenian or English."

"You do not understand," said I; "I merely want you to decline Masters in
Armenian."

"I do decline them; I will have nothing to do with them, nor with master
either; I was wrong to--What sound is that?"

"I did not hear it, but I dare say it is thunder; in Armenian--"

"Never mind what it is in Armenian; but why do you think it is thunder?"

"Ere I returned from my stroll, I looked up into the heavens, and by
their appearance I judged that a storm was nigh at hand."

"And why did you not tell me so?"

"You never asked me about the state of the atmosphere, and I am not in
the habit of giving my opinion to people on any subject, unless
questioned. But, setting that aside, can you blame me for not troubling
you with forebodings about storm and tempest, which might have prevented
the pleasure you promised yourself in drinking tea, or perhaps a lesson
in Armenian, though you pretend to dislike the latter."

"My dislike is not pretended," said Belle; "I hate the sound of it, but I
love my tea, and it was kind of you not to wish to cast a cloud over my
little pleasures; the thunder came quite time enough to interrupt it
without being anticipated--there is another peal--I will clear away, and
see that my tent is in a condition to resist the storm, and I think you
had better bestir yourself."

Isopel departed, and I remained seated on my stone, as nothing belonging
to myself required any particular attention; in about a quarter of an
hour she returned, and seated herself upon her stool.

"How dark the place is become since I left you," said she; "just as if
night were just at hand."

"Look up at the sky," said I; "and you will not wonder; it is all of a
deep olive. The wind is beginning to rise; hark how it moans among the
branches; and see now their tops are bending--it brings dust on its
wings--I felt some fall on my face; and what is this, a drop of rain?"

"We shall have plenty anon," said Belle; "do you