ions, but, whatever may be
the mechanism or the objective, the darkness seems to people itself with
luminous entities.

So was it with me as I stood lonely in the dark, silent church. Here and
there seemed to flash tiny points of light.

In the same way the silence began to be broken now and again by strange
muffled sounds--the suggestion of sounds rather than actual vibrations.
These were all at first of the minor importance of movement--rustlings,
creakings, faint stirrings, fainter breathings. Presently, when I had
somewhat recovered from the sort of hypnotic trance to which the darkness
and stillness had during the time of waiting reduced me, I looked around
in wonder.

The phantoms of light and sound seemed to have become real. There were
most certainly actual little points of light in places--not enough to see
details by, but quite sufficient to relieve the utter gloom. I
thought--though it may have been a mingling of recollection and
imagination--that I could distinguish the outlines of the church;
certainly the great altar-screen was dimly visible. Instinctively I
looked up--and thrilled. There, hung high above me, was, surely enough,
a great Greek Cross, outlined by tiny points of light.

I lost myself in wonder, and stood still, in a purely receptive mood,
unantagonistic to aught, willing for whatever might come, ready for all
things, in rather a negative than a positive mood--a mood which has an
aspect of spiritual meekness. This is the true spirit of the neophyte,
and, though I did not think of it at the time, the proper attitude for
what is called by the Church in whose temple I stood a "neo-nymph."

As the light grew a little in power, though never increasing enough for
distinctness, I saw dimly before me a table on which rested a great open
book, whereon were laid two rings--one of sliver, the other of gold--and
two crowns wrought of flowers, bound at the joining of their stems with
tissue--one of gold, the other of silver. I do not know much of the
ritual of the old Greek Church, which is the religion of the Blue
Mountains, but the things which I saw before me could be none other than
enlightening symbols. Instinctively I knew that I had been brought
hither, though in this grim way, to be married. The very idea of it
thrilled me to the heart's core. I thought the best thing I could do
would be to stay quite still, and not show surprise at anything that
might happen; but be sure I was all