Here were kindness, comfort, safety, the warning voice of duty, the perfect hush of temptation.

And as Rowland looked along the arch of silvered shadow and out into the lucid air of the American night, which seemed so doubly vast, somehow, and strange and nocturnal, he felt like declaring that here was beauty too--beauty sufficient for an artist not to starve upon it.

As he stood, lost in the darkness, he presently heard a rapid tread on the other side of the road, accompanied by a loud, jubilant whistle, and in a moment a figure emerged into an open gap of moonshine.

He had no difficulty in recognizing Hudson, who was presumably returning from a visit to Cecilia.

Roderick stopped suddenly and stared up at the moon, with his face vividly illumined.