Against one of the walls stood a large wooden chest covered with an old shawl, once of fine bright texture, now so mellowed by age that its curious design was hardly discernible; a few low stools and a big heavy table completed the whole furnishing of this primitive dwelling. "Well," asked the hermit, "what sayest thou to my sumptuous apartment?" Smiling down upon his host Eric rejoined: "Somewhat gloomy it seems to me--and too near the edge of the precipice on dark nights. In very truth the thought makes me shudder, that if one had not a care one could step from the door over the brink!" The old man laughed softly, but with the sound of some one who for many a year had no more been accustomed to mirth. "Come and sit thee by me, for I still have much to tell thee. Take yonder stool, bring it close to my side that I need not raise my tired old voice." As Eric sat down he saw that two covered objects lay upon the table. The hermit stretched out his trembling hand and drew the smaller of the two towards him, raising the dark cloth that covered it. As he did so, a round ball, cut out of a stone the colour of smouldering ashes, became visible; it was resting on a small three-legged stand carved in old ivory. "I shall now look into this magic ball to see thy future, dear wanderer. Give me thy hand whilst I concentrate my mind upon the polished surface; thou must think with all thy might of that which is thy greatest desire, and thou must not speak or the charm will be broken." Eric laid his hand confidently within the dry wrinkled palm, and remained silent, as he had been bid, his face near to that of the old man, his fair locks resting against the silvery ones. With breathless intensity he watched the magic ball, and saw with wonder how it began to glow as if a fire were burning inside. The curious light became always more intense till the ball was one burning flame upon which he could hardly keep his eyes. He felt an unwonted drowsiness come over him, but with all his might he kept his mind fixed upon the eyes of his dream, and then out of the silence came the voice of his companion, inexplicably changed and musical, like far-off bells. "I see a great picture on a wall--in the middle of which there sits a woman on a throne, the woman has no face.... I see eager questioning all around thee, but there are tears in thy eyes.... I see a long road on which thou art wandering mostly in the brilliant sunshine, but sometimes it is the moon that lights thy way. Thy tears have dried, but thou knowest not where thou goest and thou singest like a bird. Many other faces cross thy road and mostly they smile on thee....