This sensation was a great pleasure to her, and when she came to a rising ground, a kind of knoll where the view of the country was vast and superb, she paused again and took in great deep breaths.

She was drawing all the forces of the air into her being and quivered presently with the joy of it.
She could see as only those who are accustomed to the dark can.

She was aware of all the outlines of golden bracken at her feet and the head of a buck peeping from the copse near.

The sky was a passionate, tempestuous mass of angry clouds scudding over the deep blue, where an evening star could be seen peeping out.
"Bring me your force and strength, that I may grow noble and beautiful, dear wind," she said aloud.

"I want to be near him when he comes again," and then she ran and jumped the uneven places, while she hummed a strange song.
And Jeb Hart and Joseph Gubbs, the poachers, saw her, as she passed within a yard of where they lay setting their snares, and Gubbs, who was a good Catholic from Upminster, crossed himself as he muttered in his friend's ear: "We'll get no swag to-night, Jeb.