His tone and manner touched her. “Sir Deucalion, speak not of anger. Let us have no further words as to the right or wrong. We will part in peace.”
He stooped and kissed her robe. “Queen Atlana, thou art a queen, in truth. I go to make good thine order.”
“Father,” burst from Hellen, “wilt thou note this fast gathering darkness?”
In his absorption, Deucalion had not remarked the very sudden change. With serious, awed countenance, he looked about him; and then spoke lightly, hoping to reassure the blanching queen.
“It meaneth rain. It seemeth as if the clouds gather.”
But the suddenness of this gloom was as nothing to the way in which it was deepening. It threatened to hide them from each other. In her alarm, the queen moved toward the door; and this was opened for her by Sensel just as her ladies were about to knock.
“Gracious Queen,” said Rica, the first lady, “it will storm. All is dark.”
Atlana stepped out; and those behind her, followed. They looked to become appalled.
The atmosphere was thick and dark. The heavens were obscure. An inky cloud lay over the island. The sea was in foam. And the galleys were trying to keep close, whilst on their decks were huddled the fear-stricken islanders. These, upon perceiving the queen, cheered faintly. Then a spokesman inquired: “Most gracious Queen, shall we now go back?”
“The order hath been given,” shouted Hellen, at behest of the almost rigid queen.