Then I heard the jar of the steps of two powerful combatants, but everything was dark. There were no words until Regan cried:
“Too late! You must all go!”
A window crashed open above us. It gave us a view of a world, black with storm, ringed in by a halo of electric fire, dashing down at us—falling, falling!
The struggle ceased. We held our weak human hands above our heads to ward off the stroke of a world!
There was a smothering jar!
CHAPTER II.
WHERE?
This was death! There really was a river for souls to cross! I felt its cold! I heard its roar! Its chill waves lapped on an invisible shore! This was the darkness of the grave! Earth had not such! Where was the phantom boatman? He should be——
Where was Isabella? Where were they all? The dead could remember all they loved on Earth!
“But then,” I thought, “could the dead soul think in such an earthly fashion? Could dead hands reach out in damp, hot darkness and touch rough, jagged rocks? It seemed that spirits followed human modes!”
Then I touched a cold, still, human face, some one who moved and hoarsely whispered: “Rondah!”