The wind blew over the receding tide, up the sands and rocks, and over and around the two patient figures who sat like shadows in the fog, their watchful gazes at times descending from their augury to peer into the blank, grey wall fallen like a curtain over the horizon. The mists never seemed to clear, but neither did they much increase. Like the bird, sometimes more and sometimes less, but like the waiting pair, or they like it, it filled the air with a heavy constancy and weighty silence, an effect not easily distinguished from itself. ‘Twas dreary weather.
Dreary Weather
Tale Told 