flowers fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually
ceased, the swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious
waiting, as before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay
staring at that giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the
angels vanished, like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded
and the whole plain lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that
fellow with his sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his
finished work, was ... her father!

She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that
she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of
advancing dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash
and pulled open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers
too and all the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless
beside the glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel!
She gave a sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the
east a long thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep
down, was a dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A
keen wind shook the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the
window. All the green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in
the morning mist; and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a
wreath of smoke from a chimney.

What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were
getting chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still
dark in the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted
the flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in
that position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she
stood for a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call
mother or creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold