The storm, though very severe, was brief. Before Nat Turner brought his meditations to a close, the thunder grew fainter, and followed, at a long distance, the flash of the lightning. The rain no longer pattered on the thatch; and the negro, looking up, said, though in what connection, I could not discover,-- "Was not the moon very red when she rose to-night?" "She was red enough last night," answered aunt Jenny, "and I dare she was redder to-night. But I did not look at she, Nat. She was as red as blood last night 'bout this time." "Ay, ay!" replied the man in a satisfied tone. Then, after a few minutes' silence, he added--"It has done raining, I think, and I will keep my word." He opened the door of the hut and looked out, and we could see gleams of the moon's light flitting over the Swamp as she struggled with the parting clouds. After gazing forth, for a minute or two, he returned, and approached the side of the table, saying,-- "I want you to give me some gunpowder, Sir Richard Conway. Mine is almost out." "Not if it were to save my life, and all that is most dear to me," I answered. "Not one grain. I have given you food and shelter, but I will not give you the means to injure others." "So be it," he replied, quietly. "God, mayhap, will give what you refuse." And calmly throwing the damp powder out of the pans of his guns, which had nothing but flint-locks, he primed the weapons again, and made his two companions bring their guns to him to undergo the same process. He then shook the flask at his ear, saying.-- "One more charge a-piece, and before that is out, we must find more. Now, boys, leave the cabin." They seemed to obey his lightest word; and when they were gone, he turned to me, saying--"I do not thank you, for I have as much right here as you have, as much right possibly to the food. But I will keep my word with you--I will keep my vow and more. You may sleep in quiet and peace. I shall be near, and no one shall molest you. Goodnight! We may meet again, when I shall not ask you for anything, or you refuse me." And he left the cabin, drawing to the door after him. CHAPTER XXXVII. "Now, dearest Bessy," I said, as soon as the man was gone, "you had better go into the other room and lie down to rest. Take Jenny with you, and I will remain here. That man will keep his word with us, depend upon it, and we shall see no more of them. But, as a precaution, I will push this table against the door, so that no one can take us by surprise." "But you want sleep yourself, Richard," she said. "I will get some in this corner, where it is dry," I answered. And, after some persuasion, she left me.