So long did they wait unrevisited, that, had there not been two of
them, either would at length have concluded the vision a home-born
product of his own seething brain. And their lamps were going out,
for they grew redder and smokier! But they did not lose courage,
for there is a kind of capillary attraction in the facing of two
souls, that lifts faith quite beyond the level to which either
could raise it alone: they knew that they had seen the lady of
emeralds, and it was to give them their own desire that she had
gone from them, and neither would yield for a moment to the half
doubts and half dreads that awoke in his heart.
And still she who with her absence darkened their air did not
return. They grew weary, and sat down on the rocky floor, for wait
they would - indeed, wait they must. Each set his lamp by his
knee, and watched it die. Slowly it sank, dulled, looked lazy and
stupid. But ever as it sank and dulled, the image in his mind of
the Lady of Light grew stronger and clearer. Together the two
lamps panted and shuddered. First one, then the other went out,
leaving for a moment a great, red, evil-smelling snuff. Then all
was the blackness of darkness up to their very hearts and
everywhere around them. Was it? No. Far away - it looked miles
away - shone one minute faint point of green light - where, who
could tell? They only knew that it shone.
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