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The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. While he was considering what would be best to do, the poor maniac, over whose bewildered brain another change had come, raised her head from under the straw, and peeping round the room, asked in a low voice, "If they were gone?" "Who?" inquired Jack. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally.
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