“If he does not come,” said Rondah, talking to the fire, “I shall die after this! I shall die the sad death of a child! No one will remember that I have lived a woman’s life, suffered a woman’s heart-break, earned a woman’s honor! No hairs are gray upon my head to crown it; when I lay it down in a coffin the people will very soon forget me! Sometimes I seem a mysterious monster to myself! Why do I not grow old like other people, if it is not for the star?” She thought and thought until she could remain quiet no longer. Looking out she saw that the storm-clouds were piled in banks, aside, and that the sun was trying to break through them. “In two days more, only two days, after all these years, and then I shall know! I cannot rest! What if it should not come? Regan! Regan! It is so many years!” She threw a mantle of gold and crimson around her, wrapped a soft pink scarf about her head, and went out in the cool evening. She took her usual route to the hill. She felt hurried and anxious. She thought she should see the star. Now, her eyes took back their startled look, her face grew pale. She saw a dark form in the path before her. She stopped; her heart beat swiftly. It was not time. She must not be deceived—a shock would lose her reason. It looked like Regan! She went forward steadily, with dilating eyes. She did not know that in the whole world there was no one else so beautiful as was she, as she hastened to meet the man in the path, standing under the very tree where she had so often seen Regan waiting for her. Rondah scarcely breathed. She saw the man lean forward and gaze at her with a close scrutiny. The man’s face was plainly seen in the glow of orange light which was after sunset. That man was Regan! The vales heard a wild cry—the town heard it—a cry of joy from this heart, loveless for all of a lifetime save for love from another world! “Regan! Regan! you have come! I knew you would come! I knew you would come!” Regan had made himself believe that he should find something so different! What could explain matters to him? He knew that it was Rondah, young, splendidly appareled, bewilderingly beautiful, but the same Rondah, the same Rondah! To mysteries he was accustomed. “Rondah! My own Rondah!” he cried and clasped her in his arms once more. “There is a God, such a thinking, loving world-mover as Father Renaudin preaches! Nothing that blunders could bring such joy as this to the heart of man! There is a God who rules over all! Rondah, we are again united! He has done this!” The darkness of the storm-cloud swept upon them. Their chariot of rock and their angel guide were there. It was time to go. “Rondah, you are leaving the Earth forever! Look back, look back! Are there loved ones there to leave?” “No! My loves have been in a different Sphere!” said Rondah, and she laughed the happy, careless laugh of a child. “Where is the star?” asked she. Then they saw it, serenely sailing far off in the blue.