s, resounded with the cries of those who hurried
forth, drawn as by a magistral spell; and the songs swelled and
triumphed, the reverberant beating of the drum grew louder, and in the
midst of the awakened town the players, fantastically arrayed, performed
their interlude under the red blaze of torches. He knew not whether they
were players, men that would vanish suddenly as they came, disappearing
by the track that climbed the hill; or whether they were indeed
magicians, workers of great and efficacious spells, who knew the secret
word by which the earth may be transformed into the hall of Gehenna, so
that they that gazed and listened, as at a passing spectacle, should be
entrapped by the sound and the sight presented to them, should be drawn
into the elaborated figures of that mystic dance, and so should be
whirled away into those unending mazes on the wild hills that were
abhorred, there to wander for evermore.

But Darnell was not afraid, because of the Daystar that had risen in his
heart. It had dwelt there all his life, and had slowly shone forth with
clearer and clearer light, and he began to see that though his earthly
steps might be in the ways of the ancient town that was beset by the
Enchanters, and resounded with their songs and their processions, yet he
dwelt also in that serene and secure world of brightness, and from a
great and unutterable height looked on the confusion of the mortal
pageant, beholding mysteries in which he was no true actor, hearing
magic songs that could by no means draw him down from the battlements of
the high and holy city.

His heart was filled with a great joy and a great peace as he lay down
beside his wife and fell asleep, and in the morning, when he woke up, he
was glad.

IV

In a haze as of a dream Darnell's thoughts seemed to move through the
opening days of the next week. Perhaps nature had not intended that he
should be practical or much given to that which is usually called 'sound
common sense,' but his training had made him desirous of good, plain
qualities of the mind, and he uneasily strove to account to himself for
his strange mood of the Sunday night, as he had often endeavoured to
interpret the fancies of his boyhood and early manhood. At first he was
annoyed by his want of success; the morning paper, which he always
secured as the 'bus delayed at Uxbridge Road Station, fell from his
hands unread, while he vainly reasoned, assuring himself that the
threatened