A moment later and he stood within, in the presence of the dying.
The Reverend Cyrus Green sat by the table, a Bible in his hand.
Kneeling by the bedside, her face ghastly white, her burning black eyes dry and tearless, was the young woman.

And like a dead woman already, stretched on the bed, lay Zenith.
But she was not dead.

At the sound of the opening door, at the sound of his entrance, she opened her eyes, dulling fast in death, and fixed them on Sir Jasper.
"I knew you would come," she said, in a husky whisper.

"You dare not stay away! The spirit of the dying Zenith drove you here in spite of yourself.

Come nearer--nearer! Sir Jasper Kingsland, don't hover aloof.