For a moment there was silence, or at least Stella's voice was silent,while Morris stood over the aerophone, the sweat running from his face,rocking like a drunken man in his agony and waiting for the end. Thensuddenly loud, clear, and triumphant, broke upon his ears the sound ofthat song which he had heard her sing upon the sinking ship when herdeath seemed near; the ancient song of the Over-Lord. Once more atthe last mortal ebb, while the water rose about her breast, Stella'sinstincts and blood had asserted themselves, and forgetting aught else,she was dying as her pagan forefathers had died, with the secret ancientchant upon her lips. Yes, she sang as Skarphedinn the hero sang whilethe flame ate out his life.
The song swelled on, and the great waters boomed an accompaniment. Thencame a sound of crashing walls, and for a moment it ceased, only torise again still clearer and more triumphant. Again a crash--a seethinghiss--and the instrument was silent, for its twin was shattered.Shattered also was the fair shape that held the spirit of Stella.