This came in good play, as
her fine gentleman's attire would be but poor stuff to turn the water.
The wind, which had arisen with just enough force to set up a dismal
wail, gave the rain a horizontal slant and drove it in at every
opening. The flaps of the comfortable great cloak blew back from
Mary's knees, and she felt many a chilling drop through her fine new
silk trunks that made her wish for buckram in their place. Soon the
water began to trickle down her legs and find lodgment in the
jack-boots, and as the rain and wind came in tremulous little whirs,
she felt wretched enough--she who had always been so well sheltered
from every blast. Now and then mud and water would fly up into her
face--striking usually in the eyes or mouth--and then again her horse
would stumble and almost throw her over his head, as he sank, knee
deep, into some unexpected hole. All of this, with the thousand and
one noises that broke the still worse silence of the inky night soon
began to work upon her nerves and make her fearful.
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