He knew his own mettle, and that he could hold them if he would, but the pale, cold face of a woman rose up in judgment against him, and he also knew that because of the love of her, that was casting its toils about him, he must give them up.
Far back on the prairie a lonely coyote howled, and a faint wind, that was now like snow-cooled wine, brought the sighing of limitless grasses out of the silence.

There was no cloud in the crystalline ether, and something in the vastness and stillness that spoke of infinity, brought a curious sense of peace to him.

Impostor though he was, he would leave Silverdale better than he found it, and afterwards it would be of no great moment what became of him.

Countless generations of toiling men had borne their petty sorrows before him, and gone back to the dust they sprang from, but still, in due succession, harvest followed seed-time, and the world whirled on.

Then, remembering that, in the meanwhile, he had much to do which would commence with the sun on the morrow, he went back into the house and shook the fancies from him..