ike weary children round the
olive-trees, and oleanders, white as snow and pink as rosy dawn, bent
down and kissed the murmuring brook; where the pale narcissi mirrored
themselves in silent pools like stars of silver on the solemn sea, and
the maddening perfume of that lovely flower mingled with the odour of
the sweet grass, wild thyme, and violets--here the blue celandine and
hyacinth vied in colour with the saffron flower and scarlet poppy,
sacred to Diana, and every bloom was the emblem of a god; and the nymphs
kept guard o'er sacred trees, and naiades revelled in gayest dance the
long night through.

The Sacred Cave was here--the Virgin Cave of Hecate, around which, like
lost souls out of place, grew alder, dark, deadly aconite, and branches
green of juniper, waiting their call to burn as incense to the infernal
goddess.

A winding pathway led down to the cave, the cave of trial.

Its doors were strong, of olive wood, with tracings wrought in gold. On
either side uprose stout pillars of malachite; and over the entrance, in
curious marble richly carved, were figures of Hecate in judgment.

Within this cave none but the pure might enter. There was the sacred
syrinx--should a woman go therein, the doors closed by invisible hands.
If pure, a soft and heavenly strain was heard, and the doors opening of
their own accord, the honoured woman appeared crowned with a garland of
leaves of pine; but if guilty, sobs and disconsolate weeping were
audible, and the people passed away, leaving her to her fate. And after
three suns had risen and set, the High Priestess entered, found the cave
empty, and the syrinx fallen to the ground.

This was the day Nika would enter the cave. No hope had come. Day after
day she had gazed over the blue sea with the vain thought that she might
catch a glimpse of her father's fleet returning. Not a vestige of it
hove in sight. To the last she buoyed herself with the hope that aid
would come and save her from this frightful ordeal; but no. The sky was
cloudless, the ocean calm--calm and unruffled as a sleeping child.

The priests and priestesses of the Temple would accompany her in solemn
procession, and Nika, clad in garments of black, would be taken to the
Sacred Grove. Torch-bearers and heralds would lead them by the tufts of
yellow iris down the winding path to the cave, outside which an altar
stood, and the great Saronia waited, with head thrown back and hands
outspread towards the ground;