"Goin' east or goin' west ?" he asked as he took another glance at her frail and poorly protected figure.
"This way," she answered, pointing east.
He stopped and stared at her.
"Nobody lives that way," he said, "-- that is, nobody near enough for you to reach shelter before the storm bursts." "You are mistaken," she said, cringing involuntarily as the first big clap of thunder rolled in endless echoes among the mountains.

And turning about, she started hurriedly into the shadows of the narrow cross-road.
He gave one glance back at his horses, the twitching of whose ears showed nervousness, uttered some familiar word and launched out after the woman.
"Pardon me, missus," he cried, "but is it Miss Brown's you mean ?" The widow stopped, glanced back at him over her shoulder, made a quick, protesting gesture and dashed on.
With a shake of his head and a muttered, "Well, women do beat the devil!" he retraced his steps; and she proceeded on alone.
As the last sound of his horses' hoof-beats died out on the road, a second clap of thunder seemed to bring heaven and earth together.

She scarcely looked up.

She was approaching a little weather-beaten house nestled among trees on the edge of a deep gorge.

As her eyes fell on it, her footsteps quickened, and lifting a hasty hand, she pulled off her veil.