Saxe., Sheldon and Saunders entered the _Propellier_. The Centaurians collected around the machine in sorrowful farewell. The ship softly plowed the snow, the bridge was lowered, and we cheered as Saxe. put the machine in motion and dashed out into the great white desert. I strode forward with Alpha clinging to me; suddenly she flung her arms around me and laid her cheek against mine. “Let them go,” she murmured; “you must remain. Virgillius, we cannot part! Ah, do not leave me!” “Why should he remain?” demanded a voice close beside us. Alpha gasped, but continued to cling to me, and startled, we turned to find the Vespa Prince glaring at us with jealous eyes. Beautiful Centauri laughed hysterically, pressing her hands over her eyes as though bewildered, then she clung to my shoulder, murmuring: “Remain; do not heed him.” “Remain for what?” I whispered, caressing her hair. “For love,” she murmured; “for love—it is not too late.” The Prince moved restlessly. “Be patient,” I muttered; “you will have her always. I paved the way.” “Nonsense!” he retorted. “I could have taught her; so could any man who had the courage. She is not a saint, just a sweet, warm-hearted woman who grieves at your departure because you came near being mated. Alpha,” he continued, roughly taking her from me, “look up, be brave, make your choice, there is yet time. If it is Virgillius I return to the Belt, content that you are happy. If I am the one, say farewell, and let Virgillius depart in peace.” She shook her head, then slowly raised her eyes to his compelling glance; he drew her to him, she sighed wearily and her head sank to his breast. He held out his hand and gripped mine in a parting shake. Without a word I turned and ran off the ship, which floated upward ere my feet scarcely touched the snow. Centauri leaned dangerously over the railing, her long black hair floated on the icy breeze, but she was clasped securely in the arms of the Vespa Prince. “Virgillius! Virgillius!” she called; stretching out her arms. “Come back; ah, Virgillius, come back to me!” Higher rose the ship. “Virgillius!” the name wafted from the clouds. I scarce could see the lovely face. Then something fell; a bright yellow object softly plowed the snow and my control deserted me as I raised the shining thing. It was the little golden cap she had always worn to keep secret the charm that none but she could see—a huge yellow stone that flashed fire. Alpha Centauri gave up her religion when I passed from her life. To me she had given the sacred emblem of the Sun. She and the ship had sailed swiftly away forever, and in despair I shrieked and ran, hoping, hopeless, if further there might be some trace in the sky. Nothing, all gloom and terrifying stillness—the one woman in all the world that I loved was sailing far above the clouds, consoled in the arms of her affinity. This was fate.