“Father Renaudin, if the cloud masses of two worlds are propitious, you can see the Holy Land soon, but you will never tread its paths! Roy Lee, look in that great moon, our lost home—Earth!—and you can locate London, where your fortunes are still, let us hope, in the ascendant! Take a farewell look, friends, for you will soon be as far from all that revolving globe contains as Heaven is removed from Earth!” “When day comes we shall see where we are!” I answered, but I had no hope. “’Tis very strange! This heavy air is not on mountain top! Where is the snow? This is a vast body of water, which roars so loudly and falls so heavily! I can feel these rocks, some worn smooth, some perforated, by water!” said Father Renaudin. Can you imagine how we waited for that dawn? We scarce admitted when we knew that the darkness was paling! What were we to see? A foreign world? We consoled ourselves with the thought that in all the ages such a thing was unchronicled, and we mentally decided that it was not for a contemptible villain like Regan Farmington to solve the mystery of a universe! No; we concluded in our consideration that there would be found some natural explanation. Father Renaudin thought some tornado might have fallen. Time might have elapsed, which allowed rains to melt the snow. Still, even then—— Came ever dawn so suddenly! We looked on peaked and lofty lava rocks, upon a clay-colored sea sweeping to a near horizon. Tall steepled, non-verdured isles broke the surface of the sea. The air was heavy, as if we were in a covered pit. Clouds sunk so low that we could almost touch them, dark brown and green-blue clouds, inexpressibly gloomy. In silence we looked away from each other’s faces; each waited for some one else to say the words: “It is a star!” With one bound the sun rose up. Across the shimmering clouds flamed a bewildering gorgeousness surpassing description. The colors of a thousand sunsets were moving in unparalleled radiance above our heads, covering the entire field of heaven. Far, far were we from being pleased to look upon this glory! Oh! dawn of doom! Never was such a daybreak upon our own green world! The sun rose above the banks of clouds. It sent shafts through the breaks and silvered pinnacles of rock. It marked white circles on the troubled waters. Then the day became gloomy and a storm of rain fell. Isabella first acknowledged our situation: “It is certainly a star! Gregg Dempster was right!” “Poor child, I am sorry that you are here!” It was Regan who said this, and his words were so softly spoken, so musical and gentle, that I wondered (and raged) when I heard them. “My life’s years and toils are wasted, my creeds useless, my people lost, my mission vain! What shall I preach to stones and uncooled stars? What little good I shall do where there are only four souls in a world!” The words were a wail of utter despair, a cry from a broken heart. It was Father Renaudin who uttered them.