For a time each observer feared to mention the phantom, lest the others prove that it was an illusion of the mind. We were afraid of the delusions of darkness of twenty years. But when we all began to watch for it together, we spoke of it. All had seen it, had heard its step, had felt its touch. Prisoned, we could venture out no more. It was dangerous even to go into the corridors. Father Renaudin had been writing from remembrance the condensed books of the Bible. He had finished his work so far as to have reached the words which were spoken by the dead man on that night when we left Earth: “And I will give him the morning star.” “I wonder what was meant when that was written?” said Father Renaudin. He leaned his head upon his hand and seemed in deep study. The shade had been for hours beside the fire. Now it crossed the floor and touched him upon the shoulder. “Come!” it said. “It is Gregg Dempster!” cried Regan. “It is his voice! There is no God! Oh! if there were He would do this!” Father Renaudin rose, took his staff and his books and went after his guide. We followed along the corridors, through doors which we had not opened, out into the last corridor, where the cold stopped us. We saw them go out into the dark cold, the two, side by side, like spirits moving across the snow, Father Renaudin in his crimson robe, his hair blown like silver, his books clasped in one hand, his staff in the other. The darkness hid them. I would have married Isabella if I could have ever gained courage to so defy Regan. Now Father Renaudin was gone and there was no hope of his return. “There are things in this star which were never on Earth!” said Isabella. Then she threw herself down beside Regan and, leaning her head upon the arm of his chair, sobbed and wept in frightful passion. She looked only at Regan, Regan—never at me! But Regan looked at me, with a face like a demon’s, where was such horrid cruelty and rage that I shuddered. And still he touched the bowed head gently and said: “Poor child, he will return!” It was of no use to hope. Calamities and circumstances seemed to me to be in Regan’s control! He would never give her up! “There is no humanity in our wonderful endurance!” said Regan, at last. “Why should we keep up this fraud of hypocrisy?” sobbed Isabella. “We are lost!-utterly, hopelessly, everlastingly most miserable! Oh! I wish I could see the sun! I wish I could see a woman’s face! I wish I could hear the little children laugh! I hate these yellow, churning seas, this volcanic world! I can never leave it, never, never!” Still the days went on. We wrote, composed music, painted, devised dramas and made plans for their presentation. We coined money, we made statuary in stone. We hated it all in our darkness and desolation.