Here a pale horror blanched her features--she drew herself away from Morgana's hold and put out her hands with the instinctive gesture of one who tries to escape falling from some great height. Morgana, alarmed at her looks, caught her again in her arms and held her tenderly, whereat a faint smile hovered on her lips and her distraught movements ceased.
"What is this?"--she asked--then murmured--"My little white lady, how did you come here? How could you cross the flood?--unless on wings? Ah!--you are a fairy and you can do all you wish to do--but you cannot save HIM!--it is too late! He will not save himself--and he does not care,--he does not care--neither for me nor you!"
She drooped her head against Morgana's shoulder and her eyes closed in utter exhaustion. Morgana laid her back gently on her pillows, and pouring a few drops of the cordial she had used before, and of which she had the sole secret, into a wineglassful of water, held it to her lips. She drank it obediently, evidently conscious now that she was being cared for. But she was still restless, and presently she sat up in a listening attitude, one hand uplifted.
"Listen!" she said in a low, awed tone--"Thunder! Do you hear it? God speaks!"
She lay down again passively and was silent for a long time. The hours passed and the day grew into late afternoon, and Morgana, patiently watchful, thought she slept. All suddenly she sprang up, wide-eyed and alert.
"What was that?" she cried--"I heard him call!"
Morgana, startled by her swift movement, stood transfixed--listening. The deep tones of a man's voice rang out loudly and defiantly-"There shall be no more wars! There can be none! I say so! I am Master of the World!"