seem almost black. It had
not even the relief of waves or ripples--simply a dark, cold, lifeless
expanse, with no gleam of light anywhere, of lighthouse or ship; neither
was there any special sound to be heard that one could
distinguish--nothing but the distant hum of the myriad voices of the dark
mingling in one ceaseless inarticulate sound. It was well I had not time
to dwell on it, or I might have reached some spiritually-disturbing
melancholy.

Let me say here that ever since I had received my Lady's message
concerning this visit to St. Sava's I had been all on fire--not, perhaps,
at every moment consciously or actually so, but always, as it were,
prepared to break out into flame. Did I want a simile, I might compare
myself to a well-banked furnace, whose present function it is to contain
heat rather than to create it; whose crust can at any moment be broken by
a force external to itself, and burst into raging, all-compelling heat.
No thought of fear really entered my mind. Every other emotion there
was, coming and going as occasion excited or lulled, but not fear. Well
I knew in the depths of my heart the purpose which that secret quest was
to serve. I knew not only from my Lady's words, but from the teachings
of my own senses and experiences, that some dreadful ordeal must take
place before happiness of any kind could be won. And that ordeal, though
method or detail was unknown to me, I was prepared to undertake. This
was one of those occasions when a man must undertake, blindfold, ways
that may lead to torture or death, or unknown terrors beyond. But, then,
a man--if, indeed, he have the heart of a man--can always undertake; he
can at least make the first step, though it may turn out that through the
weakness of mortality he may be unable to fulfil his own intent, or
justify his belief in his own powers. Such, I take it, was the
intellectual attitude of the brave souls who of old faced the tortures of
the Inquisition.

But though there was no immediate fear, there was a certain doubt. For
doubt is one of those mental conditions whose calling we cannot control.
The end of the doubting may not be a reality to us, or be accepted as a
possibility. These things cannot forego the existence of the doubt.
"For even if a man," says Victor Cousin, "doubt everything else, at least
he cannot doubt that he doubts." The doubt had at times been on me that
my Lady of the Shroud was a Vampire. Much that had happen