Next day, the rain poured down incessantly, sweeping blindingly across the hills as I have rarely seen it sweep except at Enderley.

The weather had apparently broken up, even thus early in the autumn; and for that day, and several days following, we had nothing but wind, rain, and storm.

The sky was as dusky as Miss March's grey gown; broken sometimes in the evening by a rift of misty gold, gleaming over Nunnely Hill, as if to show us what September sunsets might have been.
John went every day to Norton Bury that week.

His mind seemed restless--he was doubly kind and attentive to me; but every night I heard him go out in all the storm to walk upon the common.

I longed to follow him, but it was best not.
On the Saturday morning, coming to breakfast, I heard him ask Mrs.Tod how Mr.March was?
We knew the invalid had been ailing all the week, nor had we seen him or his daughter once.
Mrs.Tod shook her head ominously.