“No. I have searched the star and all the palace. I have not seen him.”
But this was false, for as the stranger entered again the island, from which he had been walled all these years, he had passed where Regan was lying. Even as he spoke, and with so radiant a face, he remembered where he lay, his black hair frozen into the drifts, one hand, with Rondah’s note crushed in its icy grasp, close to his heart, the other helplessly frozen at the base of that wall. He was certain that he should not be perplexed by his immediate presence. Still, he had admired his perseverance and pitied, almost, his human weakness when he had fallen.
Within these lovely vales once more with Rondah beside him, he cared little for the man of Earth, asleep in the snow outside the wall.
“We shall both be glad when spring is come, Rondah! I shall return to my own dear world. Will you remain forever in the Sun Island or go out into your little lava land again?”
“Oh, not here! I shall go home. How much longer must I wait?”
“Very long yet!”
“Very long?”
“I have been here now almost thirty-three years. This star, with all that it contains, or will ever contain, is not to be compared with one of the lesser mountains of my world! I was sent from it to bring home a spirit which is so powerful that it can carry through my world and to all its satellites the truths of revelation! I was told who she was, and specially selected to come for her!”
The stranger paused.
“Where is she?” questioned Rondah; she was only thinking: “Very long yet before spring, and I am forgetting, all the time forgetting Regan!”