'No; Heaven stay the thought! This I swear; but—can I trust thee?'

'Yes, Chios, thou art safe. Thy spirit comes towards me, but it cannot blend with mine, and for want of this thou mayest mistrust the need of perfect sympathy. But thou art good; I am dark and foul as Tartarus! Evil and good cannot make one unbroken circle of harmony. Nevertheless, trust me, Chios—trust me.'

'Very well, I will. At what hour does Saronia visit the Sacred Grove of Hecate to offer sacrifice?'

'This very night at midnight.'

'Are there means of access to that grove?'

'Yes, for those who dare, but few would.'

'Which is the way?'

'Go thou to the wood outside the Temple, pass a furlong to the north; there is a low wall which thou canst easily vault. Once within the sacred enclosure, push on westward another furlong, and thou wilt see the Hecatesium, the little temple shaded with gigantic pines and cypress-trees. Yellow iris stud the ground, and crimson and white oleander grow between. Heed not the mighty thunderings proceeding from the temple, or the livid, glare-like lightning's flash springing forth between the pillars of the portico—on swiftly by it, lest thy heart faileth and thou diest. Having passed this temple, take the winding road at its rear. This will bring thee to where three roads meet, and there thou wilt see, by the light of the waning moon and the flickering stars, an altar, and, rising above it, the three-figured statue of the Triple Goddess. She, as Hecate, holding in her hands the keys of hell and of death, facing the pit in which the altar is reared for to-night's incantations and sacrifice. Secrete thyself before midnight behind the base of one of the tall trees. Thou wilt not have long to wait ere the light of a torch will stream upon the dark green foliage and a woman's form will appear, and, later, as she approaches, dark tresses waving in the breeze, and, if light enough, two eyes like stars of night, o'ershadowed by eyebrows like cloudlets of gloom. Those are the eyes of Saronia, the priestess of Hecate. Darest thou to be there and speak to her? I think not. Weigh well thy intentions, Chios, before setting out on such an awful journey. Let me entreat thee, good man; let me beg of thee—forswear this enterprise!'

'Farewell, Endora—that is thy name, is it not?'

'Yes, my lord.'