he altar was crowned with flame, and the spirits
drew nigh and drank up the odour, dancing in wild fury around the pyre.

Then spoke Saronia:

'Ye wandering spirits, ye starving, lonely shades destined to require
the sustenance ye seldom receive, take this oblation, drink ye in the
nurture as it arises, take it from the great queen goddess through the
hands of her priestess;' and the spirits chanted:

'Hail, Saronia!
Hail, Saronia!
Princess born
And mighty priestess!
Hail, thou minister of Tartarus!
Feeder of the gods-forsaken ones!
Blessings ever be upon thee,
Blessings such as we can give,
Thin and faint as misty vapour,
Tinged with hell and cold damnation;
Yet we bless thee as we may,
For love a spark remains within us,
And we wait for our redemption,
Working out our fearful destiny,
Till those we injured grant release,
And the Mighty All Creative
Pass us to the fields Elysian.'

* * * * *

They disappeared, and Saronia, the fearful priestess, was alone.
Shielding her eyes that she might not look again upon the sacrifice, she
turned to move away.

She had passed but a few steps from the altar when Chios came forth from
his hiding-place and followed her. She heard his steps, and fearing to
look around lest her sacrifice should be incomplete, kept on her way to
the Temple of Hecate.

Chios was soon by her side. She gazed for a moment on his face, and fell
to the ground as dead.

He raised her carefully, bore her to the foot of a great laurel-tree,
and taking his cloak, placed her on it, and bent over her in agony.

'O fool, what hast thou done? Thou hast slain her! O cursed hour! Shades
of night, seize me, take me to your Hades, torture me, but, holy
heavens, restore Saronia! O cruel fate! Most cruel destiny! What cause
is there for this?'

The talisman! the shrine he wore! the gift! He had heard of its wondrous
power. He tore it from his neck, and placed it on her chilly brow.

* * * * *

Her eyes opened, and she essayed to rise.

Chios moved to help her; but, no, she sprang to her feet, and stepping
back from him, looked like a tigress at bay. For a moment words would
not flow at her command, but her eyes burnt into his very soul, and
still she spoke not.

He wished a thousandfold he had never dared to confront her in such a
dreadful place and against such fearful