The rain poured down in roaring cataracts.
The south held a panorama of purple-shrouded range and canyon, canyon and range, on across the rolling leagues to the dim, lofty peaks, all canopied over with angry, dusky, low-drifting clouds, horizon-wide, smoky, and sulphurous.

And as Ellen watched, hands pressed to her breast, feeling incalculable relief in sight of this tempest and gulf that resembled her soul, the sun burst out from behind the long bank of purple cloud in the west and flooded the world there with golden lightning.
"It is for me!" cried Ellen.

"My mind--my heart--my very soul....

Oh, I know! I know now! ...

I love him--love him--love him!" She cried it out to the elements.