the blazing thoroughfares,—­but he made no attempt to avoid them, nor was he sensible of any other terror than that which was within himself and was purely mental.  On! ...  On!—­Still on he went,—­a desperate, lonely man, lost in a hideous nightmare of flame and fury, . . seeing nothing but one vast flying rout of molten red and gold, . . speaking to none, . . utterly reckless as to his own fate, . . only impelled on and on, but whither he knew not, nor cared to know!

All at once his, strength gave way...his nerves seemed to break asunder like so many over-wound harp-strings, . . a sudden silvery clanging of bells rang in his ears, and with them came a sound of multitudinous soft, small voices:  “Kyrie Eleison!  Kyrie Eleison!”

Hush! ...  What was that? ...  What did it mean? ...  Halting abruptly, he gave a wild glance round him,—­up to the sky, where the flaring flames spread in tangled lengths and webs of light, . . then, straight before him to the City of Al-Kyris, now a wondrous vision of redly luminous columns and cupolas, with the wet gleam of the river enfolding its blazing streets and towers:  . . and while he yet beheld it, lo!  It receded from his view!  Further, . . further!—­further away, till it seemed nothing but the toppling and smoldering of heavy clouds after the conflagration of the sunset!

Hark, hark again! ...  “Kyrie, Eleison! ...  Kyrie, Eleison!” With a sense of reeling rapture and awe he listened, . . he understood! ... he found the name he had so long forgotten!  “Christ, have mercy upon me!"...he cried, and in that one urgent supplication he uttered all the pent-up anguish of his soul!  Blind and dizzy with the fevered whirl of his own emotions, he stumbled forward and fell! ... fell heavily over a block of stone, . . stunned by the shock, he lost consciousness, but only for a moment; . . a dull aching in his temples roused him,—­and making a faint effort to rise, he turned slowly and languidly on his arm, . . and with a long, deep, shuddering sigh...Awoke!

He was on the Field of Ardath.  Dawn had just broken.  The east was one wide, shimmering stretch of warm gold, and over it lay strips of blue and gray, like fragments of torn battle-banners.  Above him sparkled the morning star, white and glittering as a silver lamp, among the delicate spreading tints of saffron and green, . . and beside him,—­her clear, pure features flushed by the roseate splendor of the sky, her hands clasped on her breast, and her sweet eyes full of an infinite tenderness and yearning, knelt Edris!—­Edris, his flower-crowned Angel, whom last he had seen drifting upward and away like a dove through the glory of the Cross in Heaven!

CHAPTER XXX.

Sunrise.