wind--then ashen nothingness and silence. But the silence was broken,
the night had grown alive indeed--and with a fearful life. Hark! how the
storm yelled! those blasts told of torment, that rain beat like tears.
What if his brother----He did not dare to follow the thought home.

Hark! how the storm yelled!--the very hut wrenched at its strong
supports as though the hands of a hundred savage foes were dragging it.
It lifted--by heaven it was gone!--gone, crashing down the rocks on the
last hurricane blast of the tempest, and there above them lowered the
sullen blue of the passing night flecked with scudding clouds, and there
in front of them, to the east and between the mountains, flared the
splendours of the dawn.

Something had struck Leonard heavily, so heavily that the blood ran down
his face; he did not heed it, he scarcely felt it; he only clasped his
brother in his arms and, for the first time for many years, he kissed
him on the brow, staining it with the blood from his wound.

The dying man looked up. He saw the glory in the East. Now it ran along
the mountain sides, now it burned upon their summits, to each summit a
pillar of flame, a peculiar splendour of its own diversely shaped; and
now the shapes of fire leaped from earth to heaven, peopling the sky
with light. The dull clouds caught the light, but they could not hold it
all: back it fell to earth again, and the forests lifted up their arms
to greet it, and it shone upon the face of the waters.

Thomas Outram saw--and staggering to his knees he stretched out his arms
towards the rising sun, muttering with his lips.

Then he sank upon Leonard's breast, and presently all his story was