Mechanically he took his Confessio Amantis, and sat down, but never opened it; rose again and took his Shakespere, opened it, but could not read; rose once more, took his Vulgate, and read: 'Quid turbamini, et ploratis?
puella non est mortua, sed dormit.' He laid that book also down, fell on his knees, and prayed for her who was not dead but sleeping.
Dorothy, filled with awe, rather from the presence of the mother of the dead than death itself, and feeling that the mother would rather be alone with her dead, also left the room, and sought her chamber, where she threw herself upon the bed.

All was still save the plashing of the fountain, for the music from the chapel had ceased.
The storm burst in a glare and a peal.

The rain fell in straight lines and huge drops, which came faster and faster, drowning the noise of the fountain, till the sound of it on the many roofs of the place was like the trampling of an army of horsemen, and every spout was gurgling musically with full throat.

The one court was filled with a clashing upon its pavement, and the other with a soft singing upon its grass, with which mingled a sound as of little castanets from the broad leaves of the water-lilies in the moat.

Ever and anon came the lightning, and the great bass of the thunder to fill up the psalm.
At the first thunderclap lady Margaret fell on her knees and prayed in an agony for the little soul that had gone forth into the midst of the storm.