all nature wearing the cloak that

Stephen's naturally gentle nature was touched, and it was in a troubled voice that he said, 'Yes, yes. I am unjust in that--I own it.' 'This is St. Launce's Station, I think. Are you going to get out?' Knight's manner of returning to the matter in hand drew Stephen again into himself. 'No; I told you I was going to Endelstow,' he resolutely replied. Knight's features became impassive, and he said no more. The train continued rattling on, and Stephen leant back in his corner and closed his eyes. The yellows of evening had turned to browns, the dusky shades thickened, and a flying cloud of dust occasionally stroked the window--borne upon a chilling breeze which blew from the north-east. The previously gilded but now dreary hills began to lose their daylight aspects of rotundity, and to become black discs vandyked against the sky, all nature wearing the cloak that six o'clock casts over the landscape at this time of the year. Stephen started up in bewilderment after a long stillness, and it was some time before he recollected himself. 'Well, how real, how real!' he exclaimed, brushing his hand across his eyes. 'What is?' said Knight. 'That dream. I fell asleep for a few minutes, and have had a dream--the most vivid I ever remember.' He wearily looked out into the gloom. They were now drawing near to Camelton. The lighting of the lamps was perceptible through the veil of evening--each flame starting into existence at intervals, and blinking weakly against the gusts of wind. 'What did you dream?' said Knight moodily. 'Oh, nothing to be told. 'Twas a sort of incubus. There is never anything in dreams.' 'I hardly supposed there was.' 'I know that. However, what I so vividly dreamt was this, since you would like to hear. It was the brightest of bright mornings at East Endelstow Church, and you and I stood by the font. Far away in the chancel Lord Luxellian was standing alone, cold and impassive, and utterly unlike his usual self: but I knew it was he. Inside the altar rail stood a strange clergyman with his book open. He looked up and said to Lord Luxellian, "Where's the bride?" Lord Luxellian said, "There's no bride." At that moment somebody came in at the door, and I knew her to be Lady Luxellian who died.