bottom of this valley long
before the mist has fallen on the plain outside. We had presently,
however, to ascend a slope of some twenty-five feet in the mile, and I
was much interested in the peculiar method by which the ascent was
made. A mere ascent, not greater than that of some rapids up which
American boatmen have managed to carry their barques by manual force,
presented no great difficulty; but some skill is required at
particular points to avoid being overturned by the rush of the water,
and our vessel so careened as to afford much more excuse for Eveena's
outbreak of terror than the tunnel had done. Had I not held her fast
she must certainly have been thrown overboard, the pilot, used to the
danger, having forgotten to warn us. For the rest, in the absence of
rocks, the vessel ascended more easily than a powerful steamer, if she
could find sufficient depth, could make her way up the rapids of the
St. Lawrence or similar streams. We entered the second tunnel without
any sign of alarm from Eveena perceptible to others; only her clinging
to my hand expressed the fear of which she was ashamed but could not
rid herself. Emerging from its mouth, we found ourselves within sight
of the sea and of the town and harbour of Serocasfe, where we were
next day to embark. Landing from the boat, we were met by the friend
whose hospitality Esmo had requested. At his house, half a mile
outside the town, for the first time since our marriage I had to part
for a short period with Eveena, who was led away by the veiled
mistress of the house, while we remained in the entrance chamber or
hall. The evening meal was anticipated by two hours, in order that we
might attend the meeting at which my bride and I were to receive our
formal admission into the Zinta.

CHAPTER XIII - THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

"Probably," said Esmo, when, apparently at a sign from him, our host
left us for some minutes alone, "much through which you are about to
pass will seem to you childish or unmeaning. Ceremonial rendered
impressive to us by immemorial antiquity, and cherished the more
because so contrary to the absence of form and ceremony in the life
around us--symbolism which is really the more useful, the more
valuable, because it contains much deeper meaning than is ever
apparent at first sight--have proved their use by experience; and, as
they are generally witnessed for the first time in early youth, make a
sharper impression than they are likely to