Then Gibbie prepared the bed in the little closet for his guest and she slept as if she had not slept for a week.
Gibbie woke with the first of the dawn.

The rain still fell--descending in spoonfuls rather than drops; the wind kept shaping itself into long hopeless howls, rising to shrill yells that went drifting away over the land; and then the howling rose again.
Nature seemed in despair.

There must be more for Gibbie to do! He must go again to the foot of the mountain, and see if there was anybody to help.

They might even be in trouble at the Mains, who could tell! Ginevra woke, rose, made herself as tidy as she could, and left her closet.

Gibbie was not in the cottage.