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At that moment the wind, as it were, surmounting all obstacles,

sent the snow flying from the carriage roofs, and clanked some

sheet of iron it had torn off, while the hoarse whistle of the

engine roared in front, plaintively and gloomily. All the

awfulness of the storm seemed to her more splendid now. He had

said what her soul longed to hear, though she feared it with her

reason. She made no answer, and in her face he saw conflict.

"Forgive me, if you dislike what I said," he said humbly.

He had spoken courteously, deferentially, yet so firmly, so

stubbornly, that for a long while she could make no answer.

"It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man,

to forget what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last.

"Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever

forget...."