Reuben Street

All night the storm increased in violence, blowing straight from the
north-west with an incessant fury which tossed and tore the waters of
the bay. Against the black cliffs the foaming waves hurled themselves
like fierce animals leaping up to reach their prey, but the adamant
rocks, which had defied their rage for centuries, still stood firm, and
flung them back panting and foaming into the swirling depths below, to
rise again with ever-increasing strength, until the showers of spray
reached up even to the grassy slopes on which the sheep huddled
together.

Valmai had lain with wide-open eyes through the long hours of the
night, listening with a shrinking fear to every fresh gust which
threatened to sweep the old house away. No raging storm or shrieking
wind had ever before done more than rouse her for a moment from the
sound sleep of youth, to turn on her pillow and fall asleep again; but
to-night she could not rest, she was unnerved by the strain and
excitement of the day, and felt like some wandering, shivering creature
whose every nerve was exposed to the anger of the elements. When at
last it was time to rise and prepare her uncle's breakfast, she felt
beaten and weary, and looked so pale and hollow-eyed, that Shoni, who
was fighting his way in at the back door as she appeared, exclaimed in
astonishment.

"What's the matter with you, Valmai? You bin out in the storm all
night?"

"Almost as bad, indeed, Shoni; there's a dreadful wind it is."

"Oh, 'tis not come to the worst yet," said Shoni.