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.