Nature could not cope with such shapes as these!
And Hellayne fell forward in a swoon.
It was late in the night when she regained consciousness. She opened her eyes. The shapes of dusk had gone. She was alone—alone on the stone floor of the chamber. Everything was still in the long dusky gallery beyond. Perhaps it was all over for the night, and yet—what was there upon the threshold?
"Oh, my God! my God!" she cried. "Let me die—only not this horror!"
There the phantom stood. Its scarlet mantle glimmered almost black. She dared not turn her back. She dared not shut her eyes. He made neither sign, nor beck, nor nod. But, like a crazy shadow, he circled round and round her, soundlessly, as if he were treading on velvet.
"Keep off—keep off!" she shrieked. "Protect me, oh my God! Madness is closing in upon me!"
And with a sudden, desperate movement she rushed at the phantom to tear the crimson mask from its face.
Her arms penetrated empty air.
With a moan she sank upon the floor. Her arms spread out, she lay upon her face.
The swoon held her captive once more.