An Open Verdict by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

ONE August morning, just about the time of Cyril's illness, Bella Scratchell found her pupils a shade more averse from the delights of learning, and generally unpleasant in their behaviour, than usual. The morning was sultry, there was thunder in the air, and some of the thunder seemed to have got into the young Pipers, who were as dull and leaden as the sky, and as sulkily silent as the heavy-headed limes on the lawn, whose branches flopped moodily, with never a rustle of leaf or a whisper among the boughs.

Then all at once the young Pipers -- moved to rebellion by the imposition of a task which seemed too much for their feeble minds -- broke into murmurs and grumblings, what time the trees began to rustle and shiver, and talk to one another mysteriously about the fast coming storm, while the birds set up scared twitterings, and chattered of impending peril and desolation.