upon her, and as for these rare
human sacrifices, she loathed the very name of them, nor, unless
forced to it, would she have been present had she guessed that any such
offering was intended.

Like most of the ancient religions, that of the Phoenicians had two sides
to it--a spiritual and a material side. The spiritual side was a
worship of the far-off unknown divinity, symbolised by the sun, moon and
planets, and visible only in their majestic movements, and in the forces
of nature. To this Elissa clung, knowing no truer god, and from those
forces she strove to wring their secret, for her heart was deep. Lonely
invocations to the goddess beneath the light of the moon appealed to
her, for from them she seemed to draw strength and comfort, but the
outward ceremonies of her faith, or the more secret and darker of them,
of which in practice she knew little, were already an abomination in her
eyes. And now what if the Jew prophet spoke truly? What if this creed of
hers were a lie, root and branch, and there did lie in the heavens above
a Lord and Father who heard and answered the prayers of men, and who did
not seek of them the blood of the children He had given?

A great doubt took hold of Elissa and shook her being, and with the
doubt came hope. How was it--if her faith were true--that when she took
the name of the goddess in vain, nothing had befallen her? She desired
to learn more of this matter, but who was to teach her? The Levite
turned from her with loathing as from a thing unclean, and there
remained, therefore, but the prince Aziel, who had put her from him with
those bitter words of scorn. Ah! why did they pain her so, piercing her
heart as with a spear? Was it because--because--he had grown dear to
her? Yes, that was the truth. She had learned it even as he cursed her;
all her quick southern blood was alight with a new fire, the like of
which she had never known before. And not her blood only, it was her
spirit--her spirit that yearned to his. Had it not leapt within her
at the first sight of him as to one most dear, one long-lost and found
again? She loved him, and he loathed her, and oh! her lot was hard.

As Elissa lay brooding thus in her pain, the door opened and Sakon, her
father, hurried into the chamber.

"What is it that chanced yonder?" he asked, for he had not been present
in the sanctuary, "and, daughter, why do you weep?"

"I weep, father, because your guest, the prince Aziel, has called me 'a