“Is it you who answer me?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” he said, “but where are you at this hour of the night?”
“Where you left me, in the Dead Church,” floated back the quick reply through the raving breadths of storm. “Listen: After you went my strength gave out and I suppose that I fainted; at least, a little while ago I woke up from a deep sleep to find myself lying before the altar here. I was frightened, for I knew that it must be far into the night, and an awful gale is blowing which shakes the whole church. I went to the door and opened it, and by the light of the moon I saw that between me and the shore lies a raging sea hundreds of yards wide. Then I came back and threw out my mind to you, and tried to wake you, if you slept; tried to make you understand that I wished you to go to the aerophone and hear me.”
“I will get help at once,” broke in Morris.
“I beg you,” came back the voice, “I beg you, do not stir. The time is very short; already the waves are dashing against the walls of the chancel, and I hear the water rumbling in the vaults beneath my feet. Listen!” her voice ceased, and in place of it there swelled the shriek of the storm which beat about the Dead Church, the rush, too, of the water in the hollow vaults and the crashing of old coffins as they were washed from their niches. Another instant, and Stella had cut off these sounds and was speaking again.
“It is useless to think of help, no boat, nothing could live upon that fearful sea; moreover, within five minutes this church must fall and vanish.”
“My God! My God!” wailed Morris.
“Do not grieve; it is a waste of precious time, and do not stir till the end. I want you to know that I did not seek this death. I never dreamed of such a thing. You must tell my father so, and bid him not to mourn for me. It was my intention to leave the church within ten minutes of yourself. This cup is given to me by the hand of Fate. I did not fill it. Do you hear and understand?”
“I hear and understand,” answered Morris.
“Now you see,” she went on, “that our talk to-day was almost inspired. My web is woven, my picture is painted, and to me Heaven says, ‘Hold.’ The thought that it might be so was in your mind, was it not?”