"Oh, I'm all right," she answered gaily, "I don't mind a bit! And
besides it will be a new sensation to be here alone--with Olgaref and
the treasure. You won't be long, will you, dear?" I felt that her query
almost belied her brave words; but I knew that behind the latter lay her
pride which I must not offend; so I took the lamp she was holding out to
me and hurried on. In a few minutes I had found the box and brought it
back; but I could see that even those minutes had been a trying time
to Marjory, who was deathly white. When I came close, she clung to me;
after a second or two she said, as she drew herself away, looking at me
diffidently as though to excuse herself, or rather to account for her
perturbation:
"The moment you had gone and I was alone in the dark with the treasure,
all the weird prophecying of Gormala came back to me. The very darkness
itself made light patches, and I saw shrouds floating everywhere. But
it's all right now that you are here. Light a torch, and we shall look
at the Pope's treasure." I took a torch out of the box and lit it; she
laid it so that the lighted end projected well beyond the shelf of rock
and gave a fine if fitful, light to all around. We found water about
three feet deep at its worst; in the glare of the torch and because of
its crystal purity, it did not look even so much. We stooped down to
examine the box, which was only one of several lying in front of a great
heap of something, all dark with rust and age, which filled up a whole
corner of the cave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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