caused the lamps to flicker, and the outlines of her white-robed
figure appeared to waver like an image cast in water.

"I adjure and command you, in the name of God the One and Omnipotent,
to depart to your own place, spirit or devil or whatever you may be!"

The voice of the Abbot rose high above the roaring of the bursting
storm without. The lady seemed to reach an arm across the circle as if
even yet to take hold of the young man. The Abbot thrust forward his
crucifix.

And then the bolt of God fell. The whole pavilion was illuminated with
a flash of light so intense and white that it appeared to blind and
burn up all about. The lady was seen no more. The silken covering
blazed up. Malise plunged outward into the darkness of the storm,
carrying his young master lightly as a child in his arms, while the
Abbot kept his feet behind him like a boat in a ship's wake. The
thunder roared overhead like the sea bellowing in a cave's mouth, and
the great pines bent their heads away from the mighty wind, straining
and creaking and lashing each other in their blind fury.

Malise and the Abbot seemed to hear about them the plunging of
riderless horses as they stumbled downwards through the night, their
path lit by lightning flashes, green and lilac and keenest blue, and
bearing between them the senseless form of William Earl of Douglas.




CHAPTER VI