And with a pang bitterer than death came the remembrance afterward of how she had urged him to leave her that night.
Thus they parted--to look into each other's eyes no more, in love and trust for a dark and tragic time.
Sybilla Silver, standing at the house door, was gazing out, at the yellow February sun sinking pale and watery into the livid horizon tine, as the baronet ran down-stairs, drawing on his gloves.

He paused, with his usual courtesy, to speak to his dependent as he went by.
"The sky yonder looks ominous," he said, "and this wailing, icy blast is the very desolation of desolation.

There is a storm brewing." Miss Silver's black eyes gleamed, and her white teeth showed in a sinister smile.
"A storm ?" she repeated.

"Yes, I think there is, and you will be caught in it, Sir Everard, if you stay late.".