"No farther, Dirk. To touch this field means death!"
"Rima!" cried Dick huskily. "Rima, you shouldn't have done this. It wasn't required of you!"
"The quest of liberty," said the girl softly, "is the quest of all men, all women, everywhere. I was watching your progress, Dirk. When I saw you had been trapped, I knew someone must come to your aid, someone must carry out the plans you had so carefully laid.
"My father was too old. The journey between our two worlds is ... well, not without pain. So—" The girl smiled—"I came."
"You sacrificed yourself," cried Dirk humbly, "for us. It is too much. Earth can never repay you, Rima."
"I was repaid when you refused life at the expense of your own honor, Dirk. Now it is done I can tell you that on your decision at that moment rested the future fate of Earth. We of Nadron have ever hesitated in dabbling in the affairs of others. Had you proved unworthy of our aid in that moment of trial. I would not have made the journey.
"And now—" There flickered in her eyes a shadow of thin, wondering fear as the veil of flame about her seemed to shudder—"the time has come for ... parting—"
"No!" shouted Dirk, as if by the very strength of his cry he could withhold the inexorable. "No, Rima! Don't—"
His cry ended in a little moan. For at that moment the shimmering column trembled and ... vanished like the flame of a snuffed candle. The last vision of Rima to be burned forevermore upon the retina of Dirk Morris' memory was that of a slim and gallant goddess, whiteclad, lifting a soft arm in salute ... and farewell.
Then ... nothing.