e one of those warrior maids
who stood and fought for dun and babes at the side of those old heroes
of Larry's own green isle; translucent ivory lambent through the rents
of her torn draperies, and in the wide, golden eyes flaming wrath,
indeed--not the diabolic flames of the priestess but the righteous
wrath of some soul that looking out of paradise sees vile wrong in the
doing.

"Lakla," the O'Keefe's voice was subdued, hurt, "there _is_ no choice.
I love you and only you--and have from the moment I saw you. It's not
easy--this. God, Goodwin, I feel like an utter cad," he flashed at me.
"There is no choice, Lakla," he ended, eyes steady upon hers.

The priestess's face grew deadlier still.

"What will you do with me?" she asked.

"Keep you," I said, "as hostage."

O'Keefe was silent; the Golden Girl shook her head.

"Well would I like to," her face grew dreaming; "but the Silent Ones
say--_no_; they bid me let you go, Yolara--"

"The Silent Ones," the priestess laughed. "_You_, Lakla! You fear,
perhaps, to let me tarry here too close!"

Storm gathered again in the handmaiden's eyes; she forced it back.

"No," she answered, "the Silent Ones so command--and for their own
purposes. Yet do I think, Yolara, that you will have little time to
feed your wickedness--tell that to Lugur--and to your Shining One!"
she added slowly.

Mockery and disbelief rode high in the priestess's pose. "Am I to
return alone--like this?" she asked.

"Nay, Yolara, nay; you shall be accompanied," said Lakla; "and by
those who will guard--and _watch_--you well. They are here even now."

The hangings parted, and into the chamber came Olaf and Rador.

The priestess met the fierce hatred and contempt in the eyes of the
Norseman--and for the first time lost her bravado.

"Let not _him_ go with me," she gasped--her eyes searched the floor
frantically.

"He goes with you," said Lakla, and threw about Yolara a swathing that
covered the exquisite, alluring body. "And you shall pass through the
Portal, not skulk along the path of the worm!"

She bent to Rador, whispered to him; he nodded; she had told him, I
supposed, the secret of its opening.

"Come," he said, and with the ice-eyed giant behind her, Yolara, head
bent, passed out of those hangings through which, but a little before,
unseen, triumph in her grasp, she had slipped.

Then Lakla came to the unhappy O'Keefe, rested her hands on his
shoulders, looked deep into his eyes.