“And why did you not tell me so?”

“You never asked me about the state of the atmosphere, and I am not in the habit of giving my opinion to people on any subject, unless questioned.  But, setting that aside, can you blame me for not troubling you with forebodings about storm and tempest, which might have prevented the pleasure you promised yourself in drinking tea, or perhaps a lesson in Armenian, though you pretend to dislike the latter?”

“My dislike is not pretended,” said Belle; “I hate the sound of it, but I love my tea, and it was kind of you not to wish to cast a cloud over my little pleasures; the thunder came quite time enough to interrupt it without being anticipated—­there is another peal—­I will clear away, and see that my tent is in a condition to resist the storm, and I think you had better bestir yourself.”

Isopel departed, and I remained seated on my stone, as nothing belonging to myself required any particular attention.  In about a quarter of an hour she returned, and seated herself upon her stool.

“How dark the place is become since I left you,” said she; “just as if night were just at hand.”

“Look up at the sky,” said I; “and you will not wonder; it is all of a deep olive.  The wind is beginning to rise; hark how it moans among the branches; and see how their tops are bending—­it brings dust on its wings—­I felt some fall on my face; and what is this, a drop of rain?”

“We shall have plenty anon,” said Belle; “do you hear? it already begins to hiss upon the embers; that fire of ours will soon be extinguished.”

“It is not probable that we shall want it,” said I, “but we had better seek shelter:  let us go into my tent.”

“Go in,” said Belle, “but you go in alone; as for me, I will seek my own.”

“You are right,” said I, “to be afraid of me; I have taught you to decline master in Armenian.”

“You almost tempt me,” said Belle, “to make you decline mistress in English.”

“To make matters short,” said I, “I decline a mistress.”

“What do you mean?” said Belle, angrily.

“I have merely done what you wished me,” said I, “and in your own style; there is no other way of declining anything in English, for in English there are no declensions.”

“The rain is increasing,” said Belle.

“It is so,” said I; “I shall go to my tent; you may come, if you please; I do assure you I am not afraid of you.”

“Nor I of you,” said Belle; “so I will come.  Why should I be afraid?  I can take my own part; that is—­”

We went into the tent and sat down, and now the rain began to pour with vehemence.  “I hope we shall not be flooded in this hollow,” said I to Belle.

“There is no fear of that,” said Belle; “the wandering people, amongst other names, call it the dry hollow.  I believe there is a passage somewhere or other by which the wet is carried off.  There must be a cloud right above us, it is so dark.  Oh! what a flash!”