Page:Alice Lauder.pdf/59

Then almost in a whisper, with a deep vibrating intensity, she repeated the beautiful cadences:

. . . .A blue quiver of lightning hovered over the room tentatively, as if searching for something hidden there; then came the hesitating snap of thunder—the stammering thunder, as the old Greek poets called it—and the storm suddenly fell upon the house with a spinning blow that made it clatter and shake to its foundations. The tropical outburst—almost explosion—of rain followed in a blinding, hissing deluge. Through all this uproar Alice heard Campbell’s step—he was coming to say good-bye. He had to bend over her almost to her ear to make himself heard:

“Good-bye again, and thank you. You have made me understand. That was beautiful, and I know now what you mean. Good-bye, and per haps some day we may meet again.”

“Auf wiedersehen!”

The door slammed, the rain swayed past in almost level showers, all the colouring of the room disappeared in the grey muffled atmosphere. Alice stood by the piano and looked out at the raving storm. It was very dim indoors, and very silent and melancholy. She was alone.