Not a word was spoken.

The new-comer was busy drying herself, and the mistress of the house was struck by her rather cheerful looks.

Possibly her sad presentiment was wrong.

It was almost impossible to talk, except in a very loud tone; for the rain fairly roared, peals of thunder followed each other in quick succession, flashes of yellow lightning quivered outside of the little port-hole.

The room itself was very dark.
How often had the two women sat here years ago in anxious doubt, but hopeful at last! How often had Say Koitza complained to her friend on this very spot,--complained of her illness, of the sad outlook before her; and when she began to recuperate how often she told Shotaye about her plans for the future.