The wind increased.

A huge black pall bore down from the mountains and it brought rain that could be seen falling in sheets from above and approaching like a swiftly moving wall.

Soon it enveloped the fugitives.
With head bowed, Helen rode along for what seemed ages in a cold, gray rain that blew almost on a level.

Finally the heavy downpour passed, leaving a fine mist.

The clouds scurried low and dark, hiding the mountains altogether and making the gray, wet plain a dreary sight.
Helen's feet and knees were as wet as if she had waded in water.