ors were dark and they might have lost
their way. She took the lamp from the table and went to the balcony at
which the guests performed their devotion. It had been her light that
had flashed across the door of the tabernacle. She had looked down into
the choir, and far below her had seen a figure, unrecognisable from
that height in the dusk of the church, but clearly the figure of a woman
standing upon the altar. Visions of horror rose before her eyes of the
sacrilegious practices of witchcraft, for she had thought of nothing
else during the whole evening. Lamp in hand she descended the stairs to
the choir and reached the altar, providentially, just in time to save
Beatrice from falling a victim again to the evil fascination of the
enemy who had planned the destruction of her soul as well as of her
body.

"What is this? What are you doing in this holy place and at this hour?"
asked Sister Paul, solemnly and sternly.

Unorna folded her arms and was silent. No possible explanation of the
struggle presented itself even to her quick intellect. She fixed her
eyes on the nun's face, concentrating all her will, for she knew that
unless she could control her also, she herself was lost. Beatrice
answered the question, drawing herself up proudly against the great
altar and pointing at Unorna with her outstretched hand, her dark eyes
flashing indignantly.

"We were talking together, this woman and I. She looked at me--she was
angry--and then I fainted, or fell asleep, I cannot tell which. I awoke
in the dark to find myself lying upon the altar here. Then she took
hold of me and tried to make me sleep again. But I would not. Let her
explain, herself, what she has done, and why she brought me here!"

Sister Paul turned to Unorna and met the full glare of the unlike eyes,
with her own calm, half heavenly look of innocence.

"What have you done, Unorna? What have you done?" she asked very sadly.

But Unorna did not answer. She only looked at the nun more fixedly and
savagely. She felt that she might as well have looked upon some ancient
picture of a saint in heaven, and bid it close its eyes. But she would
not give up the attempt, for her only safety lay in its success. For a
long time Sister Paul returned her gaze steadily.

"Sleep!" said Unorna, putting up her hand. "Sleep, I command you!"

But Sister Paul's eyes did not waver. A sad smile played for a moment
upon her waxen features.

"You have no power over me--for your