The state of the atmosphere was hateful to Toby. The
leaden sky, charged with he knew not what, almost drove him mad. At
last he could bear it no longer. There was death for him and his, in
that terrible, sighing wind. He stood still, got on his hind legs,
and, looking up at the lowering sky, gave vent to several long and
unearthly howls, then darting at Cecile, he caught her dress between
his teeth, and turned her sharp round in the direction of Caen.
If ever a dog said plainly, "Go back at once, and save our lives,"
Toby did then.
"Toby is right," said Joe in a tone of relief; "something awful is
going to fall from that sky, Cecile; we must go back to Caen at once."
"Yes, we must go back," said Cecile, for even to her rather slow
mind came the knowledge that a moment had arrived when a promise must
yield to a circumstance.
They had left Caen about a mile behind them. Turning back, it seemed
close and welcome, almost at their feet. Maurice, still thinking of
his little lacemaker, laughed with glee when Joe caught him in his
arms.
"Take hold of my coat-tails, Cecile," he said; "we must run, we may
get back in time."
Alas! alas! Toby's warning had come too late. Suddenly the wind
ceased--there was a hush--an instant's stillness, so intense that the
children, as they alone moved forward, felt their feet weighted with
lead. Then from the black sky came a light that was almost dazzling.
It was not lightning, it was the letting out from its vast bosom of a
mighty torrent of snow.
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