en thought--here on this very spot. The answer had come now.
Death had supplied it. But--how was _this_ to end?

The glories of departing day were breaking forth into ever varying
splendours. The spurs of the mountain range, now green, now gold,
assumed a rich purple against the flaming red of the sky. The deepening
afterglow flushed and quivered, as the scintillating eyes of heaven
sprang forth into the arching vault--not one by one, but in whole
groups. Then the pearly shades of twilight and the cool, moist
fragrance of the falling night.

Why was the earth so wondrously lovely--why should eyes rest upon such
semi-divine splendour while the heart was aching and bursting? was the
unspoken cry that went up from that heart-weary mourner standing there
alone gazing forth into the depths of the star-gemmed night.

Stay! What is that tongue of flame suddenly leaping forth into the
darkness? Another and another--and lo! by magic, from a score of lofty
heights, red fires are gushing upward into the black and velvety gloom,
and as the ominous beacons gather in flaming volume roaring up to a
great height, the lurid glow of the dark firmament is reflected dully
upon the slumbering plains.

A weird, far-away chorus floats upon the stillness, now rising, now
falling. Its boding import there is no mistaking. It is the gathering
cry of a barbarian host. The Gaika location is up in arms. Heavens!
What is to 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 _stoep_, 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 in a sob. 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 _stoep_ are those of an altar--the
sacrif