And now the Holy Ones have worked their will upon him, and lo, he is gone." Stella gazed at the man with fascinated eyes.

The confidence with which he spoke somehow left no room for question.
"He is mad," she murmured, half to herself and half to Peter.

"Of course he is mad." And then, as if a hand had touched her also, she moved forward to the edge of the precipice and looked down.
The rush of the torrent rose up like the tumult of many voices calling to her, calling to her.

The depth beneath her feet widened to an abyss that yawned to engulf her.

With a sick sense of horror she realized that ghastly, headlong fall--from warm, throbbing life on the enchanted height to instant and terrible destruction upon the green, slimy boulders over which the water dashed and roared continuously far below.
Here he had sat, that arrogant lover of hers, and slipped from somnolent enjoyment into that dreadful gulf.