Amer had heard them the day before, from the lips of the herald, who had looked him straight in the face with his penetrating eyes, and they had cast a strange kind of spell over him. He had hoped that his coming of age feast would have dispelled the remembrance of them, but even in the middle of the speech, with which he had taken such pains, the Voice had been heard, causing him to stammer and forget what he had intended to say. The Voice was insistent, compelling. Suddenly a sweet vision met his eyes. At the gate of a house he was passing stood a young girl dressed in white, who, at the sight of him, ran forward with outstretched hands. "Amer," she cried, "have you had a happy day, has the feast gone off well?" For the moment, at the touch of her hands and the sight of her sweet eyes, even the Voice was forgotten, and Amer eagerly told her of the delight of his companions and of the nice words they had said to him, but in answering her eager questions as to his speech, he paused in slight confusion. "No," he said, "I did not excel as I had hoped. It was lame and I was hesitating." "But why?" cried Gabrielle, "when you rehearsed it to me you never paused for a word; how was it, Amer?" "I will tell you some day," he answered, "perhaps to-morrow." He had an instinctive feeling that Gabrielle would not understand him or sympathize with his strange thoughts. Gabrielle pouted, but his refusal was soon forgotten and they walked towards the house hand in hand. Her eyes shone as stars in the gloom and her smile was better than sunshine to the lad who loved her with his whole soul. So happy was he in her presence that the sad forebodings that had interfered even with the joy of his feast were forgotten. They talked of the doings of the day; of to-morrow, when he was to be made partner in a great business transaction which promised an immense return; of the possibility of soon being able to fix upon the day which was to crown their love and to make them man and wife; and at last, with a joyful wave of the hand, he parted from her, crying— "To-morrow, Gabrielle, we will meet again, to-morrow." But no sooner had he left her to make his way towards his own home than his gay spirits departed, and the sound of the Voice seemed to thunder in his ear— "Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord." Suddenly Amer turned round and making his way back towards the market-place, he enquired where he could find the herald. CHAPTER II. THE VOICE. "The boy is mad," cried Anthony Hershall, bringing down his fist with an angry movement on to his knee, "the herald has turned his head." "What is it?" asked his wife anxiously, as she looked up at her husband, who had just come in from his ride and had sat down heavily on the large chair by the fire.