“If you should not return to this room,”—­he said, slowly—­“is there any message—­any communication you would like me to convey to your friends?”

My heart gave a quick bound.  There was some actual danger in store for me, then?  I thought for a moment—­then smiled.

“None!” I answered—­“I shall be able to attend to all such personal matters myself—­afterwards!”

Honorius looked at me, and his handsome but rather stern face was grave even to melancholy.

“Do not be too sure!”—­he said, in a low tone—­“It is not my place to speak, but few pass the ordeal to which you are about to be subjected.  Only two have passed it in ten years.”

“And one of these two was—?”

For answer, he pointed to the portrait of Santoris, thus confirming my instinctive hope and confidence.

“I am not afraid!” I said—­“And I am ready to follow you now wherever you wish me to go.”

He made no further remark and, turning round, led the way out of the apartment.

We went down many stairs and through many corridors,—­some dimly lit, some scarcely illumined at all.  The night had now fully come,—­ and through one of two of the windows we passed I could see the dark sky patterned with stars.  We came to the domed hall where the fountain played, and this was illumined by the same strange all-penetrating light I had previously noticed,—­the lovely radiance played on the spray of the fountain, making the delicate frondage of ferns and palms and the hues of flowers look like a dream of fairyland.  Passing through the hall, I followed my guide down a dark narrow passage—­then I found myself suddenly alone.  Guided by the surging sound of organ music, I went on,—­and all at once saw a broad stream of light pouring out from the open door of the chapel.  Without a moment’s hesitation, I entered—­then paused—­the symbol of the Cross and Star flamed opposite to me—­and on every side wherever I looked there were men in white robes with cowls thrown back on their shoulders, all standing in silent rows, watching me as I came.  My heart beat quickly,—­my nerves thrilled—­I trembled as I walked, thankful for the veil that partially protected me from that multitude of eyes!—­eyes that looked at me in wonder, but not unkindly—­eyes that mutely asked questions never to be answered—­ eyes that said as plainly as though in actual speech—­“Why are you among us?—­you, a woman?  Why should you have conquered difficulties which we have still to overcome?  Is it pride, defiance, or ambition with you?—­or is it all love?”

I felt a thousand influences moving around me—­the power of many brains at work silently cross-examined my inner spirit as though it were a witness in defence of some great argument—­but I made up my mind not to yield to the overpowering nervousness and sudden alarm of my own position which threatened to shake my self-control.  I fixed my eyes on the glittering symbol of the Cross and Star and moved