"It was a cold night. Rain had been falling steadily not only for hours but days--the ground was saturated. As I walked along the country lane, the slush splashed over my boots and trousers. To my left was a huge stone wall, behind which I could see the nodding heads of pines; and through them the wind was rushing, making a curious whistling sound--now loud, now soft--roaring and gently murmuring. The sound fascinated me. I fancied it might be the angry voice of a man and the plaintive pleading of a woman, and then, a weird chorus of unearthly beings, of grotesque things that stalked across the moors and crept from behind huge boulders. Nothing but the wind was to be heard. I stood and listened to it. I could have listened for hours, for I felt in harmony with my surroundings--lonely. The moon showed itself at intervals from behind the scudding clouds and lighted up the open landscape to my right. A gaunt hill covered with rocks, some piled up pyramidically, others strewn here and there; a few trees with naked arms tossing about and looking distressfully thin beside the more stalwart boulders; a sloping field or two, a couple of level ones, crossed by a tiny path; and the lane, where I stood. The scenery was desolate--not actually wild, but sad and forlorn; and the wood by my side lent an additionally weird aspect to the place, which was pleasing to me. "Suddenly I heard a sound--a sound, familiar enough at other times; but, at this hour, and in this place, everything seemed different. A woman was coming along the road--a woman in a dark cloak, with a basket under her arm; and the wind was blowing her skirts about her legs. "I looked at the trees. One singularly gaunt and fantastic one appalled me. It had long, gnarled arms, and two of them ended in bunches of twigs like hands--yes, they were exactly like hands--huge, murderous-looking hands, with bony fingers. The moonlight played over and around me--I was bathed in it. I had no business to be on the earth--my proper place was in the moon. I no longer thought it--I knew it. The woman was close at hand. She stopped at a little wicket gate leading into the lane skirting the northern boundary of the wood. I felt angry; what right had she to be there, interrupting my musings with the moon! The tree with the human hands appeared to agree. I saw anger in the movements of its branches--anger, which soon blazed into fury. It gave a mighty bend towards her, as if longing to rend her in pieces. "I followed the woman; and the wind howled louder and louder through those rustling leaves. "How long I scrambled on I do not know. As soon as the moonlight left me, I fell into a kind of slumber--a delicious trance, broken only by the restless murmurings, the sighings and groanings of the wind. Sweeter music I never heard. Then came a terrible change. The charm of my thoughts was broken--I awoke from my reverie.