It caused him to remember our invisible companion, that ancient enemy of mankind of whom the reptile is an accepted type; it made him think of that long sleep which the touch of such as this has no power to stir.
Ah! now he was going--it was impossible to mistake that change, the last quick quiver of the blood, followed by an ashen pallor, and the sob of the breath slowly lessening into silence.

So the day had died last night, with a little purpling of the sky--a little sobbing of the wind--then ashen nothingness and silence.

But the silence was broken, the night had grown alive indeed--and with a fearful life.

Hark! how the storm yelled! those blasts told of torment, that rain beat like tears.
What if his brother----He did not dare to follow the thought home.
Hark! how the storm yelled!--the very hut wrenched at its strong supports as though the hands of a hundred savage foes were dragging it.
It lifted--by heaven it was gone!--gone, crashing down the rocks on the last hurricane blast of the tempest, and there above them lowered the sullen blue of the passing night flecked with scudding clouds, and there in front of them, to the east and between the mountains, flared the splendours of the dawn.
Something had struck Leonard heavily, so heavily that the blood ran down his face; he did not heed it, he scarcely felt it; he only clasped his brother in his arms and, for the first time for many years, he kissed him on the brow, staining it with the blood from his wound.
The dying man looked up.

He saw the glory in the East.