The wind was driving the clouds across the moon at a tremendous rate, and sweeping at each gust flights of spectre leaves from the swaying trees.

It caught him in the open of the bare high-road, and would not let him go.

It opposed him, and buffeted him at every turn; but he held listlessly on his way.

His feet took him, and he let them take him whither they would.

They led him stumbling along the dim road, the dust of which was just visible like a gray mist before him, until he reached the bridge by the mill.