It sought to use her only for good. And now at last
it drew strength and power from the soul of the lady of the feathers. And
the doctor knew that the secret of Cuckoo's grand influence to succour
lay in her completeness. Degraded, wretched, soiled, ignorant, pent
within the prison-house of lust--yet she loved completely. And because
she loved completely, the sad, wandering, driven soul of Valentine chose
her from all the world to help him in the rescue of Julian. For she, like
the widow, had given her all to feed the poor. Her starvation had set her
on high, more than the starvation and the mortification of saints and
hermits. For they crucify the flesh for the good of their own souls.
Cuckoo thought ever and only of another. She had betrayed Jessie and
touched the stars. Now in her slumber, physical allegory of her
abnegation of self, she fought in this battle of the souls.
The flame above the head of Julian grew brighter. The flame of Marr,
striving with the fury of despair, flickered lower.
Doctor Levillier held his breath and prayed. Again he thought of Rip.
Would Julian too die rather than yield to the final grip of evil? Would
he die fighting?
* * * * *
A strange thin cry broke through the silence.
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