meaning of it faded and left her in a dark confusion of the mind that
was now becoming almost permanent.

"The trees excite them in the night. The winds are the great swift
carriers. Go with them, dear--and not against. You'll find sleep that
way if you do."

"The storm is rising," she began, hardly knowing what she said.

"All the more then--go with them. Don't resist. They'll take you to the
trees, that's all."

Resist! The word touched on the button of some text that once had helped
her.

"Resist the devil and he will flee from you," she heard her whispered
answer, and the same second had buried her face beneath the clothes in a
flood of hysterical weeping.

But her husband did not seem disturbed. Perhaps he did not hear it, for
the wind ran just then against the windows with a booming shout, and the
roaring of the Forest farther out came behind the blow, surging into the
room. Perhaps, too, he was already asleep again. She slowly regained a
sort of dull composure. Her face emerged from the tangle of sheets and
blankets. With a growing terror over her--she listened. The storm was
rising. It came with a sudden and impetuous rush that made all further
sleep for her impossible.

Alone in a shaking world, it seemed, she lay and listened. That storm
interpreted for her mind the climax. The Forest bellowed out its victory