t? I was only laughing at you."

"I didn't see the laugh," replied Mr. Clifford uneasily, and they went
on with the lesson.

That afternoon it was put to proof--in the cave itself, where Meyer
seemed to think that the influences would be propitious. Benita, who
found some amusement in the performance, was seated upon the stone steps
underneath the crucifix, one lamp on the altar and others one each side
of her.

In front stood her father, staring at her and waving his hands
mysteriously in obedience to Jacob's directions. So ridiculous did he
look indeed while thus engaged that Benita had the greatest difficulty
in preventing herself from bursting into laughter. This was the only
effect which his grimaces and gesticulations produced upon her, although
outwardly she kept a solemn appearance, and even from time to time shut
her eyes to encourage him. Once, when she opened them again, it was to
perceive that he was becoming very hot and exhausted, and that Jacob was
watching him with such an unpleasant intentness that she re-closed her
eyes that she might not see his face.

It was shortly after this that of a sudden Benita did feel something,
a kind of penetrating power flowing upon her, something soft and subtle
that seemed to creep into her brain like the sound of her mother's
lullaby in the dim years ago. She began to think that she was a lost
traveller among alpine snows wrapped round by snow, falling, falling in
ten myriad flakes, every one of them with a little heart of fire. Then
it came to her that she had heard this snow-sleep was dangerous, the
last of all sleeps, and that its victims must rouse themselves, or die.

Benita roused herself just in time--only just, for now she was being
borne over the edge of a precipice upon the wings of swans, and beneath
her was darkness wherein dim figures walked with lamps where their
hearts should be. Oh, how heavy were her eyelids! Surely a weight hung
to each of them, a golden weight. There, there, they were open, and she
saw. Her father had ceased his efforts; he was rubbing his brow with a
red pocket-handkerchief, but behind him, with rigid arms outstretched,
his glowing eyes fastened on her face, stood Jacob Meyer. By an effort
she sprang to her feet, shaking her head as a dog does.

"Have done with this nonsense," she said. "It tires me," and snatching
one of the lamps she ran swiftly down the place.

Benita expected that Jacob Meyer would be very angry with her,