CHAPTER XIII

As when a wave, that from a cloud impends, And, swell’d with tempests, on the ship descends, White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud, Howl o’er the masts, and sing through ev’ry shroud: Pale, trembling, tir’d, the sailors freeze with fears, And instant death on ev’ry wave appears. POPE’S HOMER The Lady Blanche, meanwhile, who was left much alone, became impatient for the company of her new friend, whom she wished to observe sharing in the delight she received from the beautiful scenery ar…