Surging up in him now was the fine vigour of reassurance that Katherine’s love gave to him. It was during that drive to Rasselas station that he began, for the first time, to believe in himself. He did not speak, but held Katherine with his arm close to him, and once, for a moment, he put his cheek against hers. But she was not, then, thinking of Philip, she was scarcely aware that he was with her. Her whole will and purpose was concentrated on reaching the station in time. She thought: “If we missed that train we’re finished. We’ll have to come back. They’ll have found my note. Mother won’t be angry outwardly, but she’ll hate Phil twice as much as ever, and she’ll never loose her hold again. She’ll show him how ashamed he should be, and she’ll show me how deeply I’ve hurt her. We shall neither of us have the courage to try a ‘second time’.” How was it that she saw all this so clearly? Never before these last months had she thought of anything save what was straight in front of her.... The world was suddenly unrolled before her like a map of a strange country. Meanwhile, although she did not know it, she was wildly excited. Her imagination, liberated after those long years of captivity, flamed now before her eyes. She felt the storm behind her, and she thought that at the head of it, urging it forward, was that figure who had pursued her, so remorselessly, ever since that day at Rafiel when Philip had confessed to her. Anna would keep them if she could, she would drag them back, miserable fugitives, to face the family—and then how she would punish Philip! “Oh, go on! Go on!” Katherine cried, whipping the pony; they began to climb a long hill. Suddenly the thunder broke overhead, crashing amongst the trees of a dark little wood on their right. Then the rain came down in slanting, stinging sheets. With that clap of thunder the storm caught them, whirled up to them, beat them in the face, buffeted in their eyes and ears, shot lightning across their path, and then plunged them on into yet more impenetrable darkness. The world was abysmal, was on fire, was rocking, was springing with a thousand gestures to stop them on their way. Katherine fancied that in front of her path figures rose and fell, the very hedges riding in a circle round about her.