‘Whoo—h!’ as the gust came roaring down furiously upon them, pelting fiercely with rain, flapping and tearing at Theodora’s cloak, like the wind in the fable, trying to whirl her off her feet, and making vehement efforts to wrench the umbrella out of Percy’s hand. A buffet with wind and weather was a frolic which she particularly enjoyed, running on before the blast, then turning round to walk backwards and recover breath to laugh at him toiling with the umbrella. Never had she looked brighter, her dark eyes, lately so sad and soft, now sparkling and dancing with mirth, her brown cheek glowing with fresh red from the rain and wind that had loosened her hair, and was sporting with a long black tress that streamed beyond her bonnet, and fluttered over her face—life, strength, and activity in every limb, and her countenance beaming with sportiveness and gaiety, the more charming because so uncommon. It was a rare chance to catch Theodora at play.
‘Ha! you’ll be beat! You will have to shut up the miserable invention unknown to our forefathers.’
‘Not I. I shall not give up the distinction between man and beast in the rain.’
‘Man! Why even ants carry parasols.’
‘That is in the sun. Parasols belong to an epoch of earlier civilization. Vide Ninevite carvings—Persian satraps!’
‘So you reduce yourself to a Persian satrap!’
‘No; it was reserved for modern times to discover the true application of the umbrella. Were you rational enough to come back in the carriage?’
‘No, indeed. To do justice to Violet, she would have come down in it, if I had not forgotten to tell her of it.’
‘I am glad you do her justice for once.’
She would not answer, and took advantage of another combat with the wind to cover her silence.