John Ames Mitchell

“ Here, in the woods, was protection from the wind, but the branches aloft were moving and tossing from the fury of the gale above. The usual murmuring of the pines had become a roar. Great drops of rain, shaken from this surging vault, fell in fitful but copious showers. This constant roar,–not unlike the ocean in a gale,–the sombre light, the helpless and perhaps dying man before her, the chill and mortal dampness of all and everything around, for an instant congealed her courage and took away her strength. ”

“ From the fury of the rain upon the roof and the sheets of water coursing down the little panes of the window in her chamber, it seemed as if a deluge had arrived. And upon opening the front door she stepped hastily back to avoid the water from the roof and the spattering from the doorstep. But Solomon was not afraid. He darted out into the rain and disappeared among the pines.
“Mr. Boyd will surely get a soaking when he comes for his breakfast,” she thought. And she wondered, casually, if he had a waterproof or an umbrella. ”

“ And, all the time, a constant flow of crazy speech and foolish, feeble song.
Half-way to the cottage he stopped, wrenched his arm from her grasp and demanded, with a frown: “I say; you expect decent things of a woman, don’t you?” ”