He 's out of leading-strings now , or should be . You must just let me take an old friend 's privilege , and tell you that you 're taking the wrong way with him . You 're too jealous and exacting , Thyra . '' `` You do n't know anything about it . You have never had a son , '' said Thyra , cruelly enough , for she knew that Carl 's sonlessness was a rankling thorn in his mind . `` You do n't know what it is to pour out your love on one human being , and have it flung back in your face ! '' Carl could not cope with Thyra 's moods . He had never understood her , even in his youth . Now he went home , still shrugging his shoulders , and thinking that it was a good thing Thyra had not looked on him with favor in the old days . Cynthia was much easier to get along with . More than Thyra looked anxiously to sea and sky that night in Avonlea . Damaris Garland listened to the smothered roar of the Atlantic in the murky northeast with a prescience of coming disaster . Friendly longshoremen shook their heads and said that Ches and Joe would better have kept to good , dry land . `` It 's sorry work joking with a November gale , '' said Abel Blair . He was an old man and , in his life , had seen some sad things along the shore . Thyra could not sleep that night . When the gale came shrieking up the river , and struck the house , she got out of bed and dressed herself . The wind screamed like a ravening beast at her window . All night she wandered to and fro in the house , going from room to room , now wringing her hands with loud outcries , now praying below her breath with white lips , now listening in dumb misery to the fury of the storm . The wind raged all the next day ; but spent itself in the following night , and the second morning was calm and fair .
The eastern sky was a great arc XXXXX crystal , smitten through with auroral crimsonings .
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