The priestess still held the tablet in her hand, but went to the window and looked out. “Dost thou not think a storm is approaching?”
“Let us put back the curtains which keep out the light,” said Suravia, suiting the action to the word.
“Low-hanging clouds oppress the upper air. But this is nothing.”
“Thou hast no cause for apprehension,” said Mineola, kindly. “Thou hast all the world to make thee content.”
Thus gently urged, Kerœcia came back to the table, accidentally setting the gold wheel in motion as she approached.
“Dost thou notice that the square indentations in the inner circle of the wheel are the same size as the top and bottom?” asked Suravia, intent on her discovery.
“And dost thou see that the clasps are the same size?” asked Alcyesta, whose quick eye had already noted the resemblance.
Kerœcia was still pale and unaccountably agitated. Finally she said, with her thumb on the spring:
“I am face to face with Fate! But—Yermah loves me, so why should I fear?”
She pressed the spring and the screen spread out instantly. In the center was a slip of parchment, on which was written: “When once my heart opens unto thy loving touch, never again canst thou close it.”