On the
ceiling directly above Harry's head. It was scintillating,
coruscating, opalescent; but it was blue most of all. It was the
colour of life and of death; it was burning, throbbing,
concentrated. I tried to scream. But I was frozen with horror. The
dot changed colour and went to a dead-blue. It seemed to grow
larger and to open. Then it turned to white and dropped like a
string of incandescence, touching Harry on the head.
What was it? It was all so sudden. A door flung open and a swish
of rushing silk. A woman! A beautiful girl! The Nervina! It was
she!
Never have I seen anyone like her. She was so beautiful. In her
face all the compassion a woman is heir to. For scarcely a second
she stopped.
"Charlotte," she called. "Charlotte--oh, why didn't you save him!
He loves you!" Then she turned to Harry. "It shall not be. He
shall not go alone. I shall save him, even beyond--"
With that she rushed upon Harry. It was all done in an instant.
Her arms were outstretched to the dimming form of Harry and the
incandescence. The splendid impassioned girl. Their forms
intermingled. A blur of her beautiful body and Harry's wan, weary
face. A flash of light, a thread of incandescence, a quiver--and
they were gone.
The next I knew was the strong arms of my brother Hobart. He gave
me the water he had fetched for Harry. He was terribly upset, but
very calm.
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