Never have I loved Bickley more than when I heard him utter those words.

“‘Divinest’ is a large term, Bickley, and one to which I hesitate to subscribe, remembering as I do certain of the prophets and the Early Fathers with all their faults, not of course to mention the Apostles.  But—­” here he paused, for suddenly all three of us became aware of Oro.

He also has been thrown to the ground by the strength of the prisoned forces which he gathered and loosed upon their unholy errand, but, as I rejoiced to observe, had suffered from them much more than ourselves.  Doubtless this was owing to the fact that he had sprung forward in a last wild effort to save his daughter, or to prevent her from interfering with his experiment, I know not which.  As a result his right cheek was much scorched, his right arm was withered and helpless, and his magnificent beard was half burnt off him.  Further, very evidently he was suffering from severe shock, for he rocked upon his feet and shook like an aspen leaf.  All this, however, did not interfere with the liveliness of his grief and rage.

There he stood, a towering shape, like a lightning-smitten statue, and cursed us, especially Bastin.

“My daughter has gone!” he cried, “burned up by the fiery power that is my servant.  Nothing remains of her but dust, and, Priest, this is your doing.  You poisoned her heart with your childish doctrines of mercy and sacrifice, and the rest, so that she threw herself into the path of the flash to save some miserable races that she had never even known.”

He paused exhausted, whereon Bastin answered him with spirit: 

“Yes, Oro, she being a holy woman, has gone where you will never follow her.  Also it is your own fault since you should have listened to her entreaties instead of boxing her ears like the brute you are.”

“My daughter is gone,” went on Oro, recovering his strength, “and my great designs are ruined.  Yet only for a while,” he added, “for the world-balance will return again, if not till long after your life-spans are done.”

“If you don’t doctor yourself, Lord Oro,” said Bickley, also rising, “I may tell you as one who understands such things, that most likely it will be after your life-span is done also.  Although their effect may be delayed, severe shocks from burns and over-excitement are apt to prove fatal to the aged.”

Oro snarled at him; no other word describes it.

“And there are other things, Physician,” he said, “which are apt to prove fatal to the young.  At least now you will no longer deny my power.”

“I am not so sure,” answered Bickley, “since it seems that there is a greater Power, namely that of a woman’s love and sacrifice.”

“And a greater still,” interrupted Bastin, “Which put those ideas into her head.”

“As for you, Humphrey,” went on Oro, “I rejoice to think that you at least have lost two things that man desires above all other things—­the woman you sought and the future kingship of the world.”