There, by the high altar, Tristan saw a form that seemed at first but a phantom, in which he presently recognized Hellayne, the dim rays of the distant tapers searching out the white robe with which her limbs were draped. She was alone, and he knew at once that it was but the natural fear consequent upon awakening in such a place, that had evoked the cry he had heard.
"Hellayne!" he called, advancing swiftly to reassure her. "Hellayne!"
There was a gasp, a moment's silence.
"Tristan?" she cried questioningly. "What has happened? Why am I here?"
He was beside her now and found her trembling like an aspen.
"Something horrible has happened, my Hellayne," he replied. "But it is over now, and the evil is averted."
"What is it?" she insisted, pale as death. "Why am I here?"
"You shall learn presently."
He stooped, to gather up the cloak, which had slipped from her shoulders.
"Do you wrap this about you," he urged, assisting her with his own hands. "Are you faint, Hellayne?"