and swift movement, she sprang from her couch and threw herself
impulsively into the arms of the Priestess.

"Ah! sweet Mother, well beloved of our blessed and divine Isis, hear
me and help me," said the girl, in a whisper, tense and low, so low
as only to reach the listening ear of the Priestess.

"Speak child," answered the Priestess, caressingly clasping Sarthia
to her bosom with one strong arm, and with the other making soft,
mesmeric passes over her trembling body.

"Ah! thank you, sweet Mother; this is so good and kind of you to
come to me to-night. I have suffered so all day from your thought;
you have been disappointed in your Sarthia and with reason, too. A
Vestal, who all but faints at the sight of death, is not made of the
stuff required in the Temple Service. But, believe me, dear
Priestess, the trouble is far deeper than appears upon the surface.
The Ritual this morning but furnished the occasion or, rather,
hastened some crisis that was already near at hand. For some time
now I am haunted by most potent premonitions of a violent death.
Night after night, dark apparitions hang around my bed, and only
last night I awoke to find the Bird of Nu, the Owl, from out the
inner Sanctuary of the Temple, perched upon my pillow and shaking
his head and croaking at me most mournfully."

"What!" exclaimed the Priestess. "The Bird of Nu. Ah! this is indeed
very serious. The matter must be investigated at once. But, my
child, if all these portents prove true, do you fear death? Have
all our teachings been in vain? Have you made so little progress in
knowledge and the philosophy of existence as to be overcome by dark