Idid find her at the window, looking out upon the restless tossing of thewaters, but with no despondent answer to the trouble of nature. The breakfast-bell rang,and I went down, expecting to find my Wynnie, who was always down first tomake the tea, standing at the window with a sad face, giving fit responseto the aspect of nature without, her soul talking with the gray spirit. Thesun was hustled away by the crowding vapours and earth, sea, and sky werepossessed by a gray spirit that threatened wrath. The earth was very dreary, for there were no shadows anywhere. Every now and thenthe wind blew a blastful of larger drops against the window of my studywith an angry clatter and clash, as if daring me to go out and meet itsire.
The next morning rose neither \"cherchef't in a comely cloud\" nor \"roab'd inflames and amber light,\" but covered all in a rainy mist, which the windmingled with salt spray torn from the tops of the waves.
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