The Other had withdrawn into an impenetrable mystery.

There he remained.

He never was found; he never was so much as heard of.

A legend arose about him, this prowler of the night, this strange, fearful figure, with an unseen face, swooping in there from out the darkness, come and gone in an instant, but leaving behind him a track of terror and death and rage and undying grief.

Within the year, in giving birth to the child, Angele had died.
The little babe was taken by Angele's parents, and Angele was buried in the Mission garden near to the aged, grey sun dial.