He felt, though, that it had not menaced him.

To him it was a good storm, kindly and protecting, and giving sufficient help in his purpose that had succeeded so well.
It was a beautiful day, the air crisp with as much winter as the island ever knew, and shot with the beams from a brilliant sun, but Robert was exhausted.

He had passed through a night of intense emotions, various, every one of them poignant, and he had made physical and mental efforts of his own that fairly consumed the nerves.

He felt as if he could lie down and sleep for a year, that it would take at least that long to build up his body and mind as they were yesterday.
He dragged himself through the woods, forced his unwilling muscles to cook a breakfast which he ate.

Then he laid himself down on his bed, his nerves now quiet, and fell asleep at once.