the building like a bell ringing in a pure atmosphere--"Credo
in unum Deum; Patrem omni-potentum, factorem coeli et terrae,
visibilium omnium et invisibilium."

The cathedral echoes with answering voices; and, involuntarily
kneeling, I follow the words of the grand chant. I hear the music
slacken; the notes of rejoicing change to a sobbing and remorseful
wail; the organ shudders like a forest of pines in a tempest,
"Crucifixus etiam pro nobis; passus et sepultus est." A darkness grows
up around me; my senses swim. The music altogether ceases; but a
brilliant radiance streams through a side-door of the church, and
twenty maidens, clad in white and crowned with myrtle, pacing two by
two, approach me. They gaze at me with joyous eyes. "Art thou also one
of us?" they murmur; then they pass onward to the altar, where again
the lights are glimmering. I watch them with eager interest; I hear
them uplift their fresh young voices in prayer and praise. One of them,
whose deep blue eyes are full of lustrous tenderness, leaves her
companions, and softly approaches me. She holds a pencil and tablet in
her hand.

"Write!" she says, in a thrilling whisper; "and write quickly! for
whatsoever thou shalt now inscribe is the clue to thy destiny."

I obey her mechanically, impelled not by my own will, but by some
unknown powerful force acting within and around me. I trace upon the
tablet one word only; it is a name that startles me even while I myself
write it down--HELIOBAS. Scarcely have I written it when a thick white
cloud veils the cathedral from my sight; the fair maiden vanishes, and
all is again still.

* * * * *

I am listening to the accents of a grave melodious voice, which, from
its slow and measured tones, would seem to be in the action of reading
or reciting aloud. I see a small room sparely furnished, and at a table
covered with books and manuscripts is seated a man of noble features
and commanding presence. He is in the full prime of life; his dark hair
has no thread of silver to mar its luxuriance; his face is unwrinkled;
his forehead unfurrowed by care; his eyes, deeply sunk beneath his
shelving brows, are of a singularly clear and penetrating blue, with an
absorbed and watchful look in them, like the eyes of one accustomed to
gaze far out at sea. His hand rests on the open pages of a massive
volume; he is reading, and his expression is intent and earnest--as if
he were littering his own th