“If there be safety for Rondah anywhere, it is on that island! I must find means to reach it!”
This was Regan’s final decision, the only salvation which he could imagine.
Before the bird people slept he ordered the construction of a small, strong stone house, with two great cellars stored with fuel, food and oil. This was built as near the island as possible. The glow of brightness made continual day around it, but warmth hardly penetrated the impassable wall in the air.
It was months before this was done; a faint twilight was the only day on the star; the breezes were cold and dry; the sea was partly frozen, many of the ravines snow-leveled.
Hundreds of the bird people were already asleep. The winter’s fate might depend on a day’s time. Regan went to the house by the Sun Island to see if it were ready. Father Renaudin remained to protect Rondah. The doors were fastened and the windows chained, and the shutters had been almost all permanently locked for the winter. A few windows of triple glass were left uncovered for light.
After Regan had gone, there came upon the terrace a strange, the same one whom Rondah had seen upon the cliffs, a grand and majestic man; his golden hair fell in curls about his shoulders; his face was like tinted alabaster, his eyes superb in beauty and brilliancy; his powerful, tall form was wrapped in a singular cloak of emerald and gold sheen.
At the foot of the porch steps he stood in the snow, where the heavy winds swept rifts of white upon his mantle, and waited for the woman of Earth to ask him to enter. With the dignity of a monarch, the beauty of a god and the elegance of manner achieved only in the grandest of earthly courts, he stood waiting.
Rondah listened while he explained that he had come at Regan’s command to carry her to the Sun Island.
“This day only the wall in the air is removed. The bird people are asleep. I can take you there quickly!”
“Come in,” said Rondah, “come in and give me time to think! I ought not to go; I should stay where Regan left me.”