Storm had washed the atmosphere between earth and sky, and it seemed as though the stars had descended nearer to his forests, shining in golden constellations.

The moon was coming up late, and he watched the ruddy glow of it as it rode up over the wilderness, a splendid queen entering upon a stage already prepared by the lesser satellites for her coming.
No longer was Kent oppressed or afraid.

In still deeper inhalations he drank the night air into his lungs, and in him there seemed to grow slowly a new strength.

His eyes and ears were wide open and attentive.
The town was asleep, but a few lights burned dimly here and there along the river's edge, and occasionally a lazy sound came up to him--the clink of a scow chain, the bark of a dog, the rooster crowing.

In spite of himself he smiled at that.