There lay upon him the weight of an indefinable oppression--the horror of a darkness too vague to be combated.

The fire had burned low, and his very bones seemed to shiver.

The candle-flames were down in the sockets of the candlesticks, and the voice of the storm was like a scream of victory.

Had the cold then won its way into the house?
Was it having its deathly will of them all?
He cast his eyes on his guest.

Sleeping still, he half lay, half leaned in the corner of the sofa, breathing heavily.