There the world will not divide us.

Follow me: follow; follow!" Then she melted away; then all melted: and he awoke with a loud cry that echoed through the edifice, now dark and cold as the grave; and a great white owl went whirling, and with his wings made the only air that stirred.
The fire was out, and the place a grave.

Yet, cold as it was, the dreamer was bathed in perspiration, so clear had been that unearthly vision, so ghostly was now that flitting owl.
Shuddering all over, he lighted his fire again, and plied his bellows with fury, till the fire glowed brighter than ever; and even then he prayed aloud that he might never see the like again, even in a dream.
He worked like mad, and his hand trembled as he struck.

Ere he had thoroughly recovered the shock, a wild cry arose outside.
He started back, awe-struck.
What with the time, the place, and that strange vision, the boundaries of the natural and the supernatural were a little confused in his mind.
"Help, help!" cried a voice; and now the familiar tone of that voice made him utter a loud cry in return.
He searched for the key, and made his way to the door; but, just as he began to insert the key, the voice was at the door outside.
"Oh, save me! A dying girl! Save me!" The cry was now a moan, and the next moment an inert mass fell like lead against the door in a vain attempt to knock at it.
The voice was Grace Carden's, and it was Grace Carden's body that fell so inert and powerless against the church-door, within a yard of Henry Little's hand..