But the thoughts and the feelings which that strange look of hers had aroused were not gone. I felt something like a shudder pass to my heart. Of a truth, this lovely woman was dreadful.
I glanced at Rhodes; I thought that even he looked grave and troubled. Well, so I thought, might he be.
I said nothing, however, until the angel had rejoined her companions. Then:
"There can be not the slightest doubt that they look with great fear upon the coming of people from that world above, a world as mysterious, I suppose, to them as this subterranean world of theirs is to us. And, now they know that they have the great secret also when they have you and me—well, Milton, old tillicum, I think it will indeed be strange if either of us ever again casts a shadow in the sun."
"It may be so, Bill," he said soberly. "I did not think of that when I told her. Still—well, who knows? Certainly not I. It is possible, indeed probable, it seems to me, that we may do them, her, Bill, a harsh injustice."
"I sincerely hope so."
That grave look left his face, and he smiled at me.
"And, besides, Billy, me lad, maybe we won't ever want to return to that world we have left—that world so full of ignorance, and yet so full of knowledge and science too; that world so cruel, and yet sometimes so strangely kind; that world so full of hate and mad passion, and yet with ideals and aspirations so very noble and lofty. Yes, who knows, Bill? It is possible that we may not want to return."
Was it significant, or was it purely casual? I could not decide. But Rhodes' gaze was now on the angel. And, whilst I stood pondering, she turned and signed to us that they stood in readiness to proceed.
She raised a hand and pointed down the cavern, in some subtle manner making it clear that she was pointing to something far, so very far away.