acred Grove. For a moment he stood still, but to think of the
commands of Endora. Then, with a bound, he was over, and stood on ground
unlawful for him to tread; but what cared he? On he moved carefully, for
fear the rustling shrubs might betray him, until he saw the looming of
the Temple of Hecate. He heard weird sounds issuing forth, and fierce
fires seemed to burn within the sacred shrine of the Infernal Goddess.
Ever and anon from between the pillars of the portico, guarding it like
a flaming sword, there flashed forth bars of light, and mighty
thunderings came bellowing from that most dreadful fane, followed by
shrieks like the cries of drowning men when they founder with their
barque. All was as Endora had said. But Chios heeded nothing. Such he
expected, and was prepared to meet them as a man who had determined to
hazard all; and, passing stealthily by the marble pile, he gained the
footpath at the rear, and followed on; gained the site where stood the
trench and its awful altar of the goddess. Then, for the first time, he
freely drew breath, and sat down at the foot of the statue of Diana
Triformis. Presently he hid behind a wide-spreading tree, and waited for
Saronia.

Several forms like men or women or demons passed by towards the Temple;
he heard their mutterings, but saw not their faces. The time hung
heavily on his hands. 'Twas still half an hour to midnight, and the
waning moon was hid--not a star shone forth to comfort him. The wild
beasts of the grove howled from their distant lair.

Then came a convulsion in the heavens--the gathering storm-clouds spoke
to each other and exchanged lightning glances until the sky was a sea of
fire. Great clouds whirled up from the west, and others bore down from
the east, and they mingled around the moon in one great aerial war until
the heavens were rent asunder, and the east wind gained the mastery,
sweeping the surging war-clouds away to the western sky in the dark-blue
depths. The waning moon shone out with sickly hue, and the diamond stars
sprung forth, and soft clouds moving onwards like dark-stoled virgin
priestesses bowed to the Queen of Heaven.

Chios starts; he shrinks; he sees the glare of torches coming down the
Sacred Way; he counts them as they wildly dance upon the midnight
air--one, two--five--eight. He is undone! She cometh not alone! Towards
him sweeps the fiery line until within a hundred paces it stops, and
forms a circle, seven around, with one upl