PAYING THEIR VOWS
From morn to eve great songs of praise and adoration went up before the shrine of Diana, and soft music echoed through the great Temple, sometimes swelling like the martial notes of the Persian hosts when they marched through the vales of Ionia to Abydos, and then sweet melodies sank back into the faintest strains, like a weeping lute or the sighs of a broken heart.
Those plaintive sounds suited one spirit, and that one was the storm-clad soul of Saronia. She had seen her old master on his arrival at Ephesus; he had done her no harm, and her heart went out towards him that she might speak and thank him for his kindness. After all, she had the true instinct of a woman, and must love something: she loved the goddess, but she had a spiritual and a human existence, and both must love. True, her nature was somewhat seared, battling as she had done for existence. There was a time when a kiss, a simple kiss, would have thrilled her very soul; but that was long ago. Since those happy times she had hardened herself against the world—the cold, selfish world made her so. But a nature with true instinctive love cannot long remain in such a state when conditions change; and now Saronia was coming to her former self, removed from the world and surrounded by those who really loved her. Her heart softened, and she felt a keen affection for Lucius.
There were but two men in the teeming millions of the world she cared for; of those two, one had been passively kind, the other an active friend. The latter was Chios, of whom she dared not think. No, she could not even breathe a sigh o'er the remembrances of him, for fear a smouldering dead past might break into a living flame. All this she knew—knew it now when she had passed from death to life, when the night had fled and the day dawned; so she conjured up a mighty gulf between her and the Greek, a gulf over which she would not pass, neither could he come unto her. But of Lucius she felt no fear, and this is the distinction between friendship and love.
Lucius was to visit the Temple of Diana to render thanks for her protecting grace to him whilst he had been battling with many storms; and his mariners had promised a votive offering to the goddess when the winds whistled through the cordage and the waves tossed their ship until it reeled and staggered like a drunken man. And now they came to fulfil their vows. This was not a vain show. Those sons of the ocean had warm hearts, and would lay them there before the shrine. Neither did Lucius desire pomp or show; he would come with his men and worship simply, manly. So, when the sun was low and the winds were hushed, they drew nigh and bowed before the altar, and, offering their libations, whispered forth their prayers. Around the flower-strewn altar stood the priests and priestesses. The chanting songs went upward in deep sonorous rhythm, and as the sacred hymn died out in echoes through the columned sanctuary, the toilers of the sea bent low and sang:
Thanks to Thee, O Lady Saviour.
Thanks to Thee, O great Dispenser.
Mercy have, and keep us lowly
In the hollow of Thine hand.
Hail! O hail! Thou mighty Mother.
Hail! Thou Giver of all good.
Mercy have and keep us lowly,
Ever bring us safe to Thee.
Then in deep unison priests and mariners joined in one grand anthem of thanksgiving, and cheeks were wet with the tears of men whose sinews were like iron, and whose hearts were proof against fear.
When they moved away, Lucius looked lovingly towards the shrine, and beheld Saronia, with her robe of purest white, standing in bold relief against the rich colour of the great veil which hid the statue of the goddess from their view; and their eyes met, and from her came a look of sweetest thanks, filling his soul with unfathomable calm, and he knew their hearts were tuned in strange resemblance, and that the priestess of Diana would offer prayer for him whether he dwelt in his lovely home or paced the poop of his lofty ship when the gale grew loud and the storm-birds flew.
For a while stillness reigned, and the priests and priestesses were alone, singing their evening hymns; the great censor swung, and the burning incense filled the Temple with odour. Then they passed through the portals to their rest, and the Temple watchers stood at the gates and kept guard within the Parabolus walls.
The dark eyes of Saronia were filled with tears of joy, for she had seen Lucius; she was at peace, though the sun had set and the shadows fell.
And thus peace cometh to the mind of the tempest-tossed, but such a being as Saronia could not long sustain it. Her soul was a spirit in chase, pursuing something undefinable which she longed to obtain, that she might be for ever satisfied and her measure of happiness complete. A calm to her was like a summer day in winter-time, the harbinger of coming storm.