identity that the inspiration of a true passion gives to some strong
deep natures remained, and after a while Jess prepared to make her way
home across the mountain-top, feeling as though she were another being.
Still she did not go, but lay there with closed eyes and drank of this
new intoxicating wine. So absorbed was she that she did not notice
that the doves had ceased to call, and that the eagle had fled away for
shelter. She was not aware of the great and solemn hush which had taken
the place of the merry voice of beast and bird and preceded the breaking
of the gathered storm.

At last as she rose to go Jess opened her dark eyes, which, for the most
part, had been shut while this great change was passing over her, and
with a natural impulse turned to look once more on the place where her
happiness had found her, then sank down again with a little exclamation.
Where was the light and the glory and all the happiness of the life that
moved and grew around her? Gone, and in its place darkness and rising
mist and deep and ominous shadows. While she lay and thought, the sun
had sunk behind the hill and left the great gulf nearly dark, and, as is
common in South Africa, the heavy storm-cloud had crept across the blue
sky and sealed the light from above. A drear wind came moaning up the
gorge from the plains beyond; the heavy rain-drops began to fall one
by one; the lightning flickered fitfully in the belly of the advancing
cloud. The storm that John had feared was upon her.

Then came a dreadful hush. Jess had recovered herself by now, and,
knowing what to expect, she snatched up her sketching-block and hurried
into the shelter of a little cave hollowed by water in the side of the
cliff. And now with a rush of ice-cold air the tempest burst. Down came
the rain in a sheet; then flash upon flash gleaming fiercely through the
vapour-laden air; and roar upon roar echoing along the rocky cavities in