CHAPTER XXII.
THE LUMINOUS NIGHT.
That night Cosmo could not sleep.

It was a warm summer night, though not yet summer--a soft dewy night, full of genial magic and growth--as if some fire-bergs of summer had drifted away out into the spring, and got melted up in it.

He dressed himself, and went out.

It was cool, deliciously cool, and damp, but with no shiver.
The stars were bright-eyed as if they had been weeping, and were so joyously consoled that they forgot to wipe away their tears.

They were bright but not clear--large and shimmering, as if reflected from some invisible sea, not immediately present to his eyes.