“How could you be so mistaken? Isabella is my sister! I supposed you were aware of the fact! There is another woman whom I love! Her name is Rondah!” “Oh! why not have told me this? The misery of years has been so terrible! A word would have saved me! I need not have stood under the light of two suns a murderer—I, Roy Lee!” Remorse, agony, shame! But nothing could undo the deed! It was committed! Not even a death to come, when it could be, at least, forgiven! No death upon the star! Always a murderer! Isabella stood by him. If it were not for that, he would have lost himself in utter despair. “The attempt is a failure, Roy! It is a wonder that you waited so many years before attempting my death! But let that pass. We are united once more. Father Renaudin is here. Seas and convulsions may part us at any time. If you love Isabella, marry her!” and, with the most ceremonious politeness, Regan returned to Roy Lee his dagger. So it was Regan, Regan, Regan, who gave to Roy Lee his wife! It was Regan who ordered that the murder should never be referred to upon the star so long as it should whirl! In the light of a burning world, their carpet the black lava of a cooling one, their witness a man who should be dead, the pastor a man who had passed beyond the bounds usually allotted to the understanding of mortals, who stood one step nearer angelhood, were they wedded. Then Father Renaudin explained to them how long years had passed while they slumbered. “Blessed sleep!” exclaimed Regan. “I am so much nearer—” Then he stopped. “Rondah!” finished Isabella. The bird people woke after a time. When the spring of years had come they had again created a paradise. Great fields of fertile lands were cultivated, beautiful towns erected. Magnificent prodigality of color and foliage in Nature aided them in beautifying. If they planted a sapling, in a few months it flourished—a great tree! All their plans were ably seconded by the people. If they polished and cut a stone, a hundred pairs of willing hands made each another stone look just like it. They cut through the narrow continent, and so moderated its temperature by allowing the warm waters of the volcanic and torrid south to come into the cold northern seas; they made several such canals. Regan was restless and very unhappy. He had been wandering in his gardens one evening, when the star was white with Earthlight. After awhile he turned away and sought Father Renaudin where he sat beside the fire. Regan drew a low couch to the side of the table and watched him, silently. “Well?” asked Father Renaudin. “Father Renaudin, it is all worth nothing, worse than nothing! It is endless repetition of misery with each day! It is a beautiful world, but it lasts forever! That is too long! It is a subject world, completely so! If I could see the face of that one woman whom I love on Earth, I would give all, all!” “Now you speak the truth of years of sorrow!” “Yes!”