Hecate! controller of spells, I call thee.
When she ended, the chorus of women arose to their feet, and slowly filed out of one of the side doors, leaving the court empty, and Helena still standing by the brazier, from whence the burning incense still rolled skyward. Maurice, quite astonished at this strange scene of magical incantation, stole quietly forward, and, looking over her shoulder, saw that she was gazing at the amber heart, which she had converted into an amulet by her moon spells.
“Helena!”
She turned with a cry of astonishment, and then fell into his arms with a joyous laugh.
“Oh, Maurice! my dearest! my darling! Are the old stories true, and have my spells drawn you back to my side?”
She was much excited, so Maurice drew her gently to one of the chairs near the fountain, and, placing her therein, knelt at her feet, smoothing her two hands, which he held between his own, to quieten her alarm at his sudden appearance.
“My dearest Helena, I came back to fetch Crispin’s revolver, which he has left behind. Hearing you singing, I looked in.”
“Oh!” cried Helena, with a blush; “and what did you see?”
“Nothing very dreadful,” he replied, laughing, “I only saw a symposium of women, and felt like Clodius surveying the mysteries of the Bona Dea. What on earth were you doing?”
“Oh, it was only a game, Maurice,” she replied, burying her head on his shoulder. “I am ashamed you should have seen me acting so childishly, but, the fact is, there is a woman here who told me about it.”