unearthly life the Dweller had set within them passed away, their own
had come back for one fleeting instant--and they had known each other,
and clasped before kindly death had taken them.

"Love is stronger than all things." The handmaiden was weeping softly.
"Love never left them. Love was stronger than the Shining One. And
when its evil fled, love went with them--wherever souls go."

Of Stanton and Thora there was no trace; nor, after our discovery of
those other two, did I care to look more. They were dead--and they
were free.

We buried Throckmartin and Edith beside Olaf in Lakla's bower. But
before the body of my old friend was placed within the grave I gave it
a careful and sorrowful examination. The skin was firm and smooth, but
cold; not the cold of death, but with a chill that set my touching
fingers tingling unpleasantly. The body was bloodless; the course of
veins and arteries marked by faintly indented white furrows, as though
their walls had long collapsed. Lips, mouth, even the tongue, was
paper white. There was no sign of dissolution as we know it; no shadow
or stain upon the marble surface. Whatever the force that, streaming
from the Dweller or impregnating its lair, had energized the
dead-alive, it was barrier against putrescence of any kind; that at
least was certain.

But it was not barrier against the poison of the Medusae, for, our sad
task done, and looking down upon the waters, I saw the pale forms of
the Dweller's hordes dissolving, vanishing into the shifting glories
of the gigantic moons sailing down upon them from every quarter of the
Sea of Crimson.