He went away, and next moment they felt the bell swing in the air. It swung round till once more it was over the well, and then it went down, down, down.
‘I’m not afraid, with you,’ said Belinda, because she was, dreadfully.
Down went the bell. The glass windows leaped into light, looking through them the two could see blurred glories of lamps in the side of the cave, magic lamps, or perhaps merely electric, which, curiously enough have ceased to seem magic to us nowadays. Then with a plop the lower edge of the bell met the water, the water rose inside it, a little, then not any more. And the bell went down, down, and above their heads the green water lapped against the windows of the bell.
‘You’re under water—if we stay five minutes,’ Belinda whispered.
‘Yes, dear,’ said Bellamant, and pulled out his ruby-studded chronometer.
‘It’s five minutes for you, but oh!’ cried Belinda, ‘it’s now for me. For I’ve found the bell that doesn’t ring, and can’t ring, and never will ring, and wasn’t made to ring. Oh Bellamant dearest, it’s Thursday. Have I got my Sunday face?’
[p181]
She tore away her veil, and his eyes, fixed upon her face, could not leave it.
‘Oh dream of all the world’s delight,’ he murmured, ‘how beautiful you are.’
Neither spoke again till a sudden little shock told them that the bell was moving up again.
‘Nonsense,’ said Bellamant, ‘it’s not five minutes.’