boy and girl, had unconsciously sought each other had grown into a young man and a maiden who had found each other . . . after the mystery of the cloud-veil and of the distant river under the spreading leaves; and they now went on together: their paths ran up towards the glittering cities of the future, which reared their crystal domes under the revealing skies, while from out their riot of towers sunbeams flashed and struck a thousand colours from the crystal domes . . .
A wind rose, as though waking in the very bed of the slumbering night, and leapt to the sky. A cool breath drifted straight out of the sultry, louring clouds; a few drops pattered upon the leaves. And the wind carried the storm farther, carried the revelation with it; the lightning flashed twice, thrice more . . . vanished . . . paled away . . . Not until it had travelled far, very far, would the wind let loose the clouds, would the night-rain fall . . . so Constance thought, vaguely . . .
And she sighed deeply, as though waking out of her languor of ecstasy, now that the night, after that rising wind, was no longer so sultry and oppressive. She stood up, wearily, closed the window, saw a morning pallor already dawning through the trees . . .
And she lay down and fell asleep: yes, that was what would happen, it would be like that; she felt
