ky had darkened over, and a shrilling of the wind sounded through
the garden foliage--fir, and cypress, and laurel. Just as Godwin
reached the gate, he was met by Miss Warricombe and Fanny, who were
returning from a walk. They wore the costume appropriate to March
weather in the country, close-fitting, defiant of gusts; and their
cheeks glowed with health. As he exchanged greetings with them, Peak
received a new impression of the sisters. He admired the physical
vigour which enabled them to take delight in such a day as this, when
girls of poorer blood and ignoble nurture would shrink from the sky's
showery tumult, and protect their surface elegance by the fireside.
Impossible for Sidwell and Fanny to be anything but graceful, for at
all times they were perfectly unaffected.

'There'll be another storm in a minute,' said the younger of them,
looking with interest to the quarter whence the wind came. 'How
suddenly they burst! What a rush! And then in five minutes the sky is
clear again.'

Her eyes shone as she turned laughingly to Peak.

'You're not afraid of getting wet? Hadn't you better come under cover?'

'Here it is!' exclaimed Sidwell, with quieter enjoyment. 'Take shelter
for a minute or two, Mr. Peak.'

They led the way to the portico, where Godwin stood with them and
watched the squall. A moment's downpour of furious rain was followed by
heavy hailstones, which drove horizontally before the shrieking wind.
The prospect had wrapped itself in grey gloom. At a hundred yards'
distance, scarcely an object could be distinguished; the storm-cloud
swooped so low that its skirts touched the branches of tall elms, a
streaming, rushing raggedness.

'Don't you enjoy that?' Fanny asked of Godwin.

'Indeed I do.'

'You should be on Dartmoor in such weather,' said Sidwell. 'Father and
I were once caught in storms far worse than this--far better, I ought
to say, for I never knew anything so terrifically grand.'

Already it was over. The gusts diminished in frequency and force, the
hail ceased, the core of blackness was passing over to the eastern sky.
Fanny ran out into the garden, and pointed upward.

'Look where the sunlight is coming!'

An uncloaked patch of heaven shone with colour like that of the girl's
eyes--faint, limpid blue. Reminding himself that to tarry longer in
this company would be imprudent, Godwin bade the sisters good-morning.
The frank heartiness with which Fanny pressed his hand sent him on his