“Oh, death of years,” he cried, “stand back until I find her, or come forever!”
Of all the star’s promise Regan neither remembered nor thought. That with it they must live he had forgot. Only for time to find her!
Half-asleep, he struggled over the narrow, icy trails to that wall only to fall in the snow beside it.
Do you not hear it, Rondah? So near, can tinkle of diamond leaves and hum of musical air drown that horrid call, as Regan, beating the wall in despair, helplessly fighting off the sleep which comes with the force of the star itself, a force as resistless as that of tempest or earthquake, falls with that paper clutched in his hand, the paper with “Good-bye” written on it?
CHAPTER XXI.
FORGETTING REGAN.
The years passed changelessly in the Sun Island, an emotionless period of waiting, only serving to make her forget the past, forget everything which she ought to remember, Rondah thought.
She knew that in the continual perusal and study of the great books she was forgetting all else, knew that her very soul was changing character from them. When once in those books she had read words, it was impossible to forget them. The thoughts which were explained to her there were limitless, unpuzzled, perfectly finished. She never lost herself when trying to follow the mazes of her mind’s flight.
But, when she tried to think back, it was a dim remembrance, as one remembers a far-away dream. She could not sorrow deeply. Alone, she was never even lonely; there was the constant song humming in the air. It cheered her.
If the stranger were on the island, she never saw him. She concluded that he was asleep with the rest. She knew that the slumber came suddenly and irresistibly upon all.
The pink of Jupiter’s kiss had shimmered in the brilliance of the isle for months when there came into it a faint green tinge.