Dead silence followed this strange command. But in a moment a sound of music arose as if from the ground at their feet--a strange, weird, low cadence that rose and fell and filled the room; then the cloud of incense grew thicker, and for a moment the face of the mirror was dimmed and blurred. Then the air cleared. The mirror shone out again, and reflected in its shining surface was a face--the face of a man--wan, white, death-like, with closed eyes and ashen lips. But it was the face of Hugh for all that. "He lives," said the voice of the magician; "but he will not live long, unless the woman who loves him best on earth will sacrifice herself for him." Linda uttered a strangled scream, and fell senseless to the floor. CHAPTER XI. _THE MAGICIAN'S TOWER._ "I trow there was no magic in it at all--or no magician," cried Joanna, with suppressed excitement of manner; "I believe it is nothing but some devilry and trickery of Tito's and Roger's. The more I think of it, the more certain do I become. They are an evil pair, and are capable of anything." Joanna was standing in the midst of an eager and interested group. The whisper had gone out in certain quarters that a strange thing had happened, and that news might be had of the missing Hugh. Amalric de Montfort had heard as much, and had begged of Leofric to take him to see the maiden who could tell what had befallen. Gilbert and Jack were also gathered together to hear the tale. The Fair of St. Frideswyde had just concluded; the city was resuming its normal condition; lectures for the day were just ended, and Gilbert had conducted his friends to the citizen household, that they might hear from Joanna's own lips the story of the mysterious visit which had resulted in the unexpected apparition of the face of Hugh le Barbier in the magician's mirror. It was an age of superstition, and the belief in magic was deeply implanted in the minds of men of all classes. Nevertheless, in this particular case, a sceptic doubt had arisen, and when Joanna boldly spoke out her opinions, a murmur as of assent passed round the ring. "Devilry without doubt," said Amalric, with an emphatic gesture. "The only question to my mind is, Whose is the devilry? and what chance have we of catching the perpetrators thereof, and wresting the truth from them?" "If it be a real magician from foreign parts, he may already have left the city," said Jack; "folks are flocking away, now that the fair is over, as fast as they were flocking in a week ago." "If I be right in my conjecture," said Joanna significantly, "the mysterious magician and his associate will not quit Oxford. Neither will they altogether cease their dark practices; they find them pay too well." Hal Seaton, the brother of Joanna, who was also in this secret, looked out to be certain no one was listening, and then locked the door, signing to the company to be seated.