He threw aside his pen and cast the discordant record of past foolish pastime into the dead ashes of the hearth.
How quiet it was.

With the cessation of the rain the wind too had gone down, and scarcely a breath of air came through the open door.

He walked to the threshold and gazed on the hushed prospect.

In this listless attitude he was faintly conscious of a distant reverberation, a mere phantom of sound--perhaps the explosion of a distant blast in the hills--that left the silence more marked and oppressive.

As he turned again into the cabin a change seemed to have come over it.