her lofty place espied a coming terror. The light seemed to be
dissolving out of her; she was dying--she was going out! And yet
everything around looked strangely clear--clearer than ever she had
seen anything before: how could the lamp be shedding more light when
she herself had less? Ah, that was just it! See how faint she looked!
It was because the light was forsaking her, and spreading itself over
the room, that she grew so thin and pale! She was giving up
everything! She was melting away from the roof like a bit of sugar in
water.

Nycteris was fast growing afraid, and sought refuge with the face upon
her lap. How beautiful the creature was!--what to call it she could
not think, for it had been angry when she called it what Watho called
her. And, wonder upon wonder! now, even in the cold change that was
passing upon the great room, the colour as of a red rose was rising in
the wan cheek. What beautiful yellow hair it was that spread over her
lap! What great huge breaths the creature took! And what were those
curious things it carried? She had seen them on her walls, she was
sure.

Thus she talked to herself while the lamp grew paler and paler, and
everything kept growing yet clearer. What could it mean? The lamp was
dying--going out into the other place of which the creature in her lap
had spoken, to be a sun! But why were the things growing clearer
before it was yet a sun? That was the point. Was it her growing into a
sun that did it? Yes! yes! it was coming death! She knew it, for it
was coming upon her also! She felt it coming! What was she about to
grow into? Something beautiful, like the creature in her lap? It might
be! Anyhow, it must be death; for all her strength was going out of
her, while all around her was growing so light she could not bear it!