I made a gesture of despair; I felt that the game was lost.

“After all, Mr. Lester,” said Silva, kindly, “what is this fate that you would prepare for her?  You seek her marriage with a young man who, when I saw him, appeared to me merely commonplace.  Admitting for the moment that he is innocent of this crime, you would nevertheless condemn her to an existence flat and savourless, differing in no essential from that of the beasts of the field.”

“It is the existence of all normal people,” I pointed out, “and the one which they are happiest in.”

“But Miss Vaughan would not be happy.  She has too great a soul; that young man is not worthy of her.  You yourself have felt it!”

I could not deny it.

“Few men are worthy of a good woman,” I said lamely.

“Faugh!  Good woman!” and he snapped his fingers.  “I abhor the words!  They are simply cant!  But a great woman, a woman of insight, of imagination—­ah, for such a woman the Way that I prepare is the only Way.  There she will find joy and inspiration; there she will grow in knowledge; there she will breathe the breath of life!  Mr. Lester,” and he leaned forward suddenly, “have you the courage to consult the sphere?”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw how I spent the White Night of Siva,” and he made his gesture of reverence.  “Will you gaze for an hour on the crystal?”

“For what purpose?”

“I do not know what may be revealed to you,” he answered.  “That is in the keeping of the Holy One.  Perhaps nothing; perhaps much.  Will you make the trial?”

His eyes were distended with excitement, his lips were trembling with eagerness.

“I feel that it will not be in vain!” he added.

There was something compelling in his gaze.  After all, why not?  I struggled to my feet.

With a strange smile, he held back the curtain, and I passed before him into the hall and up the stairs.  As I hesitated at the top, he opened the door into the entry, and again my senses were assaulted by a heavy, numbing odour.  In the middle of the room the crystal sphere glowed softly.

“Take your place upon the couch,” he said; “sit thus, with your legs crossed, and your hands folded before you.  But first, listen to me.  There is in this no magic; this sphere is merely a shell of crystal, in which a small lamp burns.  It serves only to concentrate the mind, to enable it to forget the world and to turn in upon itself.  The visions which will come to you, if any come, will come from within and not from without.  They will be such visions as the Holy One may will; and by the Holy One I mean that Spirit which pervades the universe, even to its farthest bound; the Spirit which is in all of us alike; the Spirit which is in good men and in bad, men like you and me, and men like the one who slew my pupil.  It is with this Spirit, if the Holy One so wills, that you will commune, so that you will see no longer with the poor eyes of the body, but with eyes from which nothing is concealed, either in the past or in the future.  Do you understand?”