The meeting with Chios and the Christian in the cave of the Ephesian sorceress had worked on the mind of the priestess. She was agitated like a ship cast in the way where two seas meet. Two great tides were bearing on her, which should carry her on its bosom. On the one hand, she had the traditions of the goddess, like a mighty river coursing down the ages, backed by a power which could command the living and the dead; on the other, she had presented to her a God of love, and the teachings which brought her dead mother to the Christ of God, permeated the soul of her lover, and gave peace to Endora, the accursed of Hecate.

Before her rose the great Temple, glistening white in the sunlight, rearing its majestic pillars skywards, throwing shadows to the west. She saw the train of priests move up the marble stairway and disappear within, and heard the hymn of morning rise on the trembling air.

In striking contrast before her stretched out a vision of the hated sect, the followers of the despised Nazarene, the little band of outcasts, who for fear of the people worshipped their God in the silent watches of the night, when the city was asleep—worshipped Him without gorgeous ritual or templed home, and standing ready, well knowing that as each day dawned the setting sun might cast its rays upon their lifeless bodies lying uncared for in the Ephesian arena.

All this floated before her, drifting by, dark and ominously, like the shadow of a great cloud on the face of the waters.

She saw herself a fugitive, hiding on the mountain-sides of yonder snow-capped Tmolus, where many others of the Christians had already fled for safety from the cruel fate in store for them.

She saw herself a wanderer, an outcast, pursued to the death. Which should it be? High Priestess of Diana, clothed with mystery, strong in power, standing on the loftiest peak of fame, with a nation at her feet, and the issues of life and death in her hands; or a child in the new kingdom of love and peace?

A thousand spirit-voices sang chorus to her soul, bidding her beware, now flowing with soft cadence in winning measure and tones of entreaty, now rising in one vast tumultuous threatening as if they would break the earth asunder. She stood unawed, listening; then cried:

'Stand back! Saronia is a free spirit! What are ye? If I seek the truth, what spirit amongst you dare bar the way to a soul which floats upwards to the source of its being? Nay, none of you! Not even the son of the morning who fell from heaven!'

Day after day hung wearily on Saronia; she was of such nature as no half-measure would satisfy. She was awakening from the mist of ages. She had heard of a great spiritual life which was without alloy, where the spirit evolved more and more into the likeness of the great First Cause, and her mind broadened out to seek the fuller light.

When the nightingale sang to its mate and the sweet-scented flowers gave perfume in exchange for the earth-born dew, when the winds of the night lay cradled, when the voice of the toiler was still, and the sheen of the star of the west melted into the cold, gray sea, when the city slept on in the darkness, Saronia looked out to the mountains, the mountains which sheltered the exiles, the fugitive followers of God.

'Twas death before death to the priestess; 'twas the death of the old faith, the birth of the new—the new one awakening the soul from its slumber, refining the spirit, remoulding her nature, and bringing together the Christ and His loved one.

The night-winds leapt from their slumbers, and shrieked like a soul in pain, trampled the flowers in their fury, flew round the pine-clad mountains, circled and circled again, till the girl was entombed in a whirlwind, a whirlwind with centre of calm.

Within that sanctuary, guarded by the angel of the covenant, stood Saronia, undismayed, determined, decided to serve the Son of Jehovah.

Her next step was to break away from the Temple service. Many methods came to her—one such as to leave the place without disturbance, to quietly move away; to flee; to live and breathe the fresh air, until hunted down to meet death in the arena of the great theatre of Ephesus. But to Saronia this was cowardly, and she resolved to meet her fate at once. Life to her was valueless save for the good she might do. But what greater good could she do than to openly witness for the new faith before the priests and priestesses of the great Temple of Diana, and receive the martyr's crown? It was a fitting prelude to the entrance into the great life—to the life which ended never.

She would call an assembly of the priests and priestesses, and tell them from her own lips the story of her new-born love. The time was fixed, and as it was no uncommon thing for the priests and priestesses to meet their chief in solemn assembly, no particular notice was taken of Saronia's action in calling such.

So, at eventide, when the worship for the day was over, and the sun had set, and the outer gates leading into the Temple were closed, the priests and priestesses gathered before the great altar, to listen to the voice of their beloved priestess.

The scene was one of solemn grandeur, as the priests with garments of many-coloured textures ranged themselves in crescent rows on the right of the altar as you enter the massive gates at the chief entrance. On the left of the altar, in the same manner, stood the priestesses, loveliest of the Ionian women, draped in white, yellow, rose-coloured, and azure garments, with here and there a robe of black, sacred to Hecate; whilst other maidens, flower-bearers, libation-carriers, and incense-girls, stood between the priests and priestesses, ready to place their offerings on the altar in honour of Diana.

All was ready, all were expectant, when the great High Priestess, Saronia, came forward in flowing robes of white, costly silk, and stood in all her magnificent beauty.

The offering to the goddess was soon made, but Saronia stood in silent meditation; neither had the soft cadences of sweet Ionian music from the costliest instruments any charm. Then, when their harmonies fell low and died in plaintive echoes, Saronia looked upwards through the open roof towards the circle of azure sky, until a calm, a radiant calm, o'erspread her face, making her seem like a visitant from the heavens.... During this brief pause a profound solemnity pervaded the assembly—a quietude in which even the rustle of a leaf would have seemed discord.

The people, spellbound by the force of her character and the beauty of the Priestess, held their breath and earnestly waited.

Then spoke Saronia to them, in a voice full of love and hope, saying:

'Priestesses and priests, and all you gathered here, listen to the words of Saronia. Me you found helpless at your gates, a slave seeking shelter, seeking sanctuary at the shrine of great Diana, whose image, hidden by a veil of purple and gold, towers majestically behind me.

'You brought me within the precincts of this mighty Temple, and cared for me tenderly.

'After awhile you thought me fit to serve your goddess.

'Step by step I rose until, with one bound, I became the High Priestess.

'My spirit, yearning with desire to understand the hidden meaning of your mystic faith, became a receptacle for all the teachings of your goddess. My mind became permeated with your creed, and every fibre of my nature shaken and respondent to the spirit's voice, as leaves move to the breathings of the winds.

'In this spiritual ecstasy I revelled and moved on from mystery to mystery, diving into the deep ocean of your sacred knowledge, satisfying my soul with draughts of wisdom from the choicest fountains of your faith; and, as I swept into the mysteries of your creed, my spirit became intoxicated with delight, and seemed to purify by contact with the unseen presence of your goddess.

'Light after light flooded my vision, and I, the poor wanderer seeking for truth and rest, was carried onwards as a mighty rushing wind, accumulating knowledge as I went, until I was borne into a vale of peace and rested for a while drinking in the delirious joys of my new-found life.

'Power was given to me, power of which I dare not speak, save only to those who are initiated into the mysteries of your veiled goddess Hecate.

'Wisdom and power were bestowed on me, and, with the power I possessed, I dealt out beneficence in accordance with the precepts of Diana—Diana Triformis; and thus from stage to stage my life has moved. But the soul has an eternal longing for greater knowledge and greater truths, and this was the case with Saronia, your priestess.

'As a wild gazelle springs from crag to crag, over shadowed chasms, in search of food, so I moved on, seeking joy and truth and knowledge, until I in spirit reached a sea-girt shore, and could no further go. Not that my desire failed, but aid came not to ferry me over the darkling waters.

'I stood calling on my goddess to point a way to the other shore, on which stood templed cities with domes and towers rising high into the pearly sheen of a glorious light. But no answer came.... From the spiritual city across the sea came a flowing light like a moving star. It came, and resolved into beauteous form, until a Spirit, priestly, kingly, clothed with heaven, stood beside me, and spoke peace to my awakening soul, saying, "I will guide thee."...

'But it was not a messenger of Diana.'