the field of light in a flash its outline was unmistakable though
eccentric. It was a flying ship.

The vessel took one long and sweeping curve across the sky and
came nearer and nearer to MacIan, like a steam-engine coming
round a bend. It was of pure white steel, and in the moon it
gleamed like the armour of Sir Galahad. The simile of such
virginity is not inappropriate; for, as it grew larger and larger
and lower and lower, Evan saw that the only figure in it was
robed in white from head to foot and crowned with snow-white
hair, on which the moonshine lay like a benediction. The figure
stood so still that he could easily have supposed it to be a
statue. Indeed, he thought it was until it spoke.

"Evan," said the voice, and it spoke with the simple authority of
some forgotten father revisiting his children, "you have remained
here long enough, and your sword is wanted elsewhere."

"Wanted for what?" asked the young man, accepting the monstrous
event with a queer and clumsy naturalness; "what is my sword
wanted for?"

"For all that you hold dear," said the man standing in the
moonlight; "for the thrones of authority and for all ancient
loyalty to law."

Evan looked up at the lunar orb again as if in irrational
appeal--a moon calf bleating to his mother the moon. But the face
of Luna seemed as witless as his own; there is no help in nature
against the supernatural; and he looked again at the tall marble