oon, of
driving rain, of gusty wind: he had fallen asleep over his work, no
doubt, and the night had come down.

He lay back in his chair, wondering whether it were late; his eyes were
half closed, and he did not make the effort and rouse himself. He could
hear the stormy noise of the wind, and the sound reminded him of the
half-forgotten days. He thought of his boyhood, and the old rectory, and
the great elms that surrounded it. There was something pleasant in the
consciousness that he was still half dreaming; he knew he could wake
up whenever he pleased, but for the moment he amused himself by the
pretence that he was a little boy again, tired with his rambles and the
keen air of the hills. He remembered how he would sometimes wake
up in the dark at midnight, and listen sleepily for a moment to the rush
of the wind straining and crying amongst the trees, and hear it beat upon
the walls, and then he would fall to dreams again, happy in his warm,
snug bed.

The wind grew louder, and the windows rattled. He half opened his eyes
and shut them again, determined to cherish that sensation of long ago. He
felt tired and heavy with sleep; he imagined that he was exhausted by
some effort; he had, perhaps, been writing furiously without rest. He
could not recollect at the instant what the work had been; it would be
delightful to read the pages when he had made up his mind to bestir
himself.

Surely that was the noise of boughs, swaying and grinding in the wind. He
remembered one night at home when such a sound had roused him suddenly
from a deep sweet sleep. There was a rushing and beating as of wings upon
the air, and a heavy dreary noise, like thunder far away upon the
mountain. He had got out of bed and looked from behind the blind to see
what was abroad. He remembered the strange sight he had seen, and he
pretended it would be just the same if he cared to look out now. There
were clouds flying awfully from before the moon, and a pale light that
made the familiar land look strange and terrible. The blast of wind came
with a great shriek, and the trees tossed and bowed and quivered; the
wood was scourged and horrible, and the night air was ghastly with a
confused tumult, and voices as of a host. A huge black cloud rolled
across the heaven from the west and covered up the moon, and there came a
torrent of bitter hissing rain.

It was all a vivid picture to him as he sat in his chair, unwilling to
wake. Even as he let his m