He saw the dark, slender, graceful outline of her form.

A woman lay in his arms! And he held her closer.

He who had been alone in the sad, silent watches of the night was not now and never must be again alone.

He who had yearned for the touch of a hand felt the long tremble and the heart-beat of a woman.

By what strange chance had she come to love him! By what change--by what marvel had she grown into a treasure! No more did he listen to the rush and roar of the thunder-storm.
For with the touch of clinging hands and the throbbing bosom he grew conscious of an inward storm--the tingling of new chords of thought, strange music of unheard, joyous bells sad dreams dawning to wakeful delight, dissolving doubt, resurging hope, force, fire, and freedom, unutterable sweetness of desire.