1 "It was th wind," said Martha stubbornly.
2 "That's the wind blowing through the bushes," Mrs. Medlock said.
3 A wind was rising and making a singular, wild, low, rushing sound.
4 But as she was listening to the wind she began to listen to something else.
5 The wind itself had ceased and a brilliant, deep blue sky arched high over the moorland.
6 The rainstorm had ended and the gray mist and clouds had been swept away in the night by the wind.
7 One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest.
8 She did not know what it was, because at first she could scarcely distinguish it from the wind itself.
9 On and on they drove through the darkness, and though the rain stopped, the wind rushed by and whistled and made strange sounds.
10 Just as it had given her an appetite, and fighting with the wind had stirred her blood, so the same things had stirred her mind.
11 The fact was that the fresh wind from the moor had begun to blow the cobwebs out of her young brain and to waken her up a little.
12 Sometimes the wind sounded rather like a child crying, but presently Mistress Mary felt quite sure this sound was inside the house, not outside it.
13 She ran only to make herself warm, and she hated the wind which rushed at her face and roared and held her back as if it were some giant she could not see.
14 Martha ran and shut the door and turned the key, but before she did it they both heard the sound of a door in some far passage shutting with a bang, and then everything was quiet, for even the wind ceased "wutherin'" for a few moments.
15 She had felt as if she had understood a robin and that he had understood her; she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm; she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life; and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one.
16 She did not know that this was the best thing she could have done, and she did not know that, when she began to walk quickly or even run along the paths and down the avenue, she was stirring her slow blood and making herself stronger by fighting with the wind which swept down from the moor.
17 She had just paused and was looking up at a long spray of ivy swinging in the wind when she saw a gleam of scarlet and heard a brilliant chirp, and there, on the top of the wall, forward perched Ben Weatherstaff's robin redbreast, tilting forward to look at her with his small head on one side.
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