The strong nature is half tortured, half soothed by the prospect of his going.

Perhaps when he is gone she will recover something of that moral equilibrium which has been, so shaken.

At present she is a riddle to herself, invaded by a force she has no power to cope with, feeling the moral ground of years crumbling beneath her, and struggling feverishly for self-control.
As she neared the head of the valley the wind became less tempestuous.
The great wall of High Fell, toward which she was walking, seemed to shelter her from its worst violence.

But the hurrying clouds, the gleams of lurid light which every now and then penetrated into the valley from the west, across the dip leading to Shanmoor, the voice of the river answering the voice of the wind, and the deep unbroken shadow that covered the group of houses and trees toward which she was walking, all served to heighten the nervous depression which had taken hold of her.
As she neared the bridge, however, leading to the little hamlet, beyond which northward all was stony loneliness and desolation, and saw in front of her the gray stone house, backed by the sombre red of a great copper beech, and overhung by crags, she had perforce to take herself by both hands, try and realize her mission afresh, and the scene which lay before her..