The day closed with rain and a rising wind.
Emily heard it about the house as she lay through hours of sleeplessness.

At first a light slumber had come to her; it was broken by the clock striking eleven.

Probably she was roused at the first stroke, for, failing to count, the number seemed to her so interminable that she started up and made to herself fretful complaint.

Pain was weakening her self-control; she found herself crying in a weary, desolate way, and could not stop her tears for a long time.

The gusts of wind went by her windows and bore their voices away on to the common, wailing and sobbing in the far distance; rain spattered the windows at times.