The night had come with even greater heat than the day. The sultry
gloaming foretold a near-by storm. Clouds were brewing fast and thick,
with ominous mutterings. Already every inch of blue sky was overcast
with a blackness that was heavy and lowering. Occasionally the sullen
thunder was prefaced by a jaundiced light that swathed the skies from
end to end. The coach bearing Katherine and Janet left the causeway
and entered a thick forest. The great trees seemed even larger; their
silence becoming portentous. There was not a breath of air. Katherine
fanned herself with Janet's hat, but hardly did her efforts create a
breeze large enough to move the threads of hair that waved above her
forehead.
They had proceeded but a short way into the forest when the postilion
got down to light the lamps.
Sir Julian rode close to the window and spoke of the approaching
storm. The stillness was ominous; there being no sound save the plash
of a muskrat as he skurried through a dismal, dark pool near by.
Katherine jumped at the noise and her small hand grasped the arm of
Sir Julian, as it lay across the ledge of the window.
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