Lane left his room and went into the shady woods, where he thought the July heat would be less unendurable, where the fever in his blood might abate.

But though it was cool and pleasant there he experienced no relief.

Wherever he went he carried the burden of his pangs.

And his grim giant of unrest trod in his shadow.
He could not stay long in the woods.

He betook himself to the hills and meadows.