Superior to mortal accidents.
But the priest felt that effluence from her
Shed a strange glory round the humid cell
And fill him with a fearful sense of fate:
The blind, remorseless progress of the world.
Sombre and threatening, her figure cut
Prow-like, and loomed through huge, tempestuous night,
Toward a doom obscure and imminent.
She spoke again in slow and weary words:
“Merow remained with Gregory; but time