Between Snow and Fire — page 220: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

become of this delicate woman here, alone and unprotected, ; exposed to the full brunt of a savage rising—and all that it means ? Eanswyth is standing on the séoep, her eyes fixed upon the appalling phenomenon, but in their glance is no shadow . of fear. Death has no terrors for her now; at peril she can afford to laugh. Her lips are even curving into a sweet, sad smile, “Just as it was that night,” she exclaims. “ The parallel is complete. Blaze on red signals of death—and when destruction does break forth let it begin with me! I will wait for it, welcome it, for I walk in shadow now—will welcome it here on this spot where we stood that sweet and blessed night—here where our hearts first met—here where mine is breaking now !” Her voice dies away inasob. She sinks to the ground. The distant glare of the war-fires of the savages falls fully upon that prostrate figure lying there in the abandonment \ ° of woe. It lights up a very sacrifice. The rough stones of © the sfoep are those of an altar—the sacrifice a broken heart. ‘Here is where we stood that night together,” she mur- murs, pressing her lips to the hard, cold stones. “It is just as it was then. Oh, my love—my love, come back to me! Come back—even from the cold grave !” ‘“Eanswyth !”’ The word is breathed in a low, unsteady voice. Every drop of blood within her turns to ice. It is answered at last, her oft-repeated prayer. She is apout to behold him. Does she not shrink from it? Not by a hair’s-breadth. “Let me see you, my love,” she murmurs softly, not daring to move lest the spell should be broken. ‘ Where— where are you ?”’ “Where our hearts first met—there they meet again. Look up, my sweet one. [am here.” ' She does look up. In the red and boding glare of those ominous war-fires she sees him as she saw him that night. She springs to her feet—and a loud and thrilling cry goes forth upon the darkness. ‘Eustace—Eustace! Oh, my love! Spirit or flesh— you shall not leave me! At last—at last ! ‘