The conversation of these innocent and guileless lovers was, as it were,
in unison with the placidness of the evening. The sports, in which they
had been engaged, had inspired them with gaiety, and the songs they had
heard, had raised their thoughts to a sublimer pitch than was usual to
them. They praised the miracles of the tale of Modred; they sympathised
with the affliction of Evelina; and they spoke with the most unfeigned
reverence of the pious and venerable Llewelyn.
But the harmless chearfulness of their conversation did not last long.
The serenity that was around them was soon interrupted, and their
attention was diverted to external objects. Suddenly you might have
perceived a cloud, small and dark, that rose from the bosom of the sea.
By swift advances it became thicker and broader, till the whole heavens
were enveloped in its dismal shade. The gentle zephyr, that anon played
among the trees, was changed into a wind hollow and tumultuous. Its
course was irregular. Now all was still and silent as the caverns of
death; and again it burst forth in momentary blasts, or whirled the
straws and fallen leaves in circling eddies. The light of day was
shrouded and invisible. The slow and sober progress of evening was
forestalled.
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