“But you were not dead. You only slept.” “The sleep was a death-sleep which went by like a flash, yes, in an instant, or so it seemed. Only the shell of the body remained preserved by mortal arts, and when the returning spirit and the light of life were poured into it again, it awoke. But during this long death-sleep, that spirit may have spoken through other lips and that light may have shone through other eyes, though of these I remember nothing.” “Then that dream of our visit to a certain star may be no dream?” “I think no dream, and you, too, have thought as much.” “In a way, yes, Yva. But I could not believe and turned from what I held to be a phantasy.” “It was natural, Humphrey, that you should not believe. Hearken! In this temple a while ago I showed you a picture of myself and of a man who loved me and whom I loved, and of his death at Oro’s hands. Did you note anything about that man?” “Bickley did,” I answered. “Was he right?” “I think that he was right, since otherwise I should not have loved you, Humphrey.” “I remember nothing of that man, Yva.” “It is probable that you would not, since you and he are very far apart, while between you and him flow wide seas of death, wherein are set islands of life; perhaps many of them. But I remember much who seem to have left him but a very little while ago.” “When you awoke in your coffin and threw your arms about me, what did you think, Yva?” “I thought _you_ were that man, Humphrey.” There was silence between us and in that silence the truth came home to me. Then there before the effigy of Fate and in the desolate, glowing temple we plighted anew our troth made holy by a past that thus so wonderfully lived again. Of this consecrated hour I say no more. Let each picture it as he will. A glory as of heaven fell upon us and in it we dwelt a space. “Beloved,” she whispered at length in a voice that was choked as though with tears, “if it chances that we should be separated again for a little while, you will not grieve over much?” “Knowing all I should try not to grieve, Yva, seeing that in truth we never can be parted. But do you mean that I shall die?” “Being mortal either of us might seem to die, Humphrey,” and she bent her head as though to hide her face. “You know we go into dangers this day.” “Does Oro really purpose to destroy much of the world and has he in truth the power, Yva?” “He does so purpose and most certainly he has the power, unless—unless some other Power should stay his hand.” “What other power, Yva?” “Oh! perhaps that which you worship, that which is called Love. The love of man may avert the massacre of men. I hope so with all my heart. Hist! Oro comes. I feel, I know that he comes, though not in search of us who are very far from his thought tonight. Follow me. Swiftly.”