"And I, too, have the same persistent sense of memory," half whispered Zenobia. "There is a tradition that perhaps explains my dream--do you know it?--that in the days of the Romans there was a heathen temple here, where we are sitting, and that an early convert to Christianity, a sculptor of great skill, erected a cross upon its threshold." "And the sculptor was put to death! I have read it, or did I dream it?" He turned and looked down upon the city, as if seeking some clue or inspiration. "There was a priestess," he said slowly, "a priestess...." Zenobia had risen to her feet. "A priestess of the Temple of Sul. Yes! she, too, was put to death. They buried her alive." She pressed the backs of her hands to her brow; her gaze assumed an almost tragic intensity. "She had listened to the sculptor. They found her kneeling by the Cross, and in the Temple of Sul the sacred fire had gone out...." She paused. Each looked into the other's eyes. A flash of inspiration came to both of them. "Your face," she said, "is the face of the sculptor in my dream." * * * * * Heavy clouds had been rapidly gathering overhead; the atmosphere had grown strangely oppressive. So full had they been of other thoughts that no reference had been made to the developments of natural phenomena which had lately caused so much dismay in the locality, and, indeed, throughout the country. It was known that the signs of disturbance already chronicled had gradually diminished, and for some days the volume of water rising from the thermal spring had been little more than normal. The emission of smoke or vapour arising from the fissure on Lansdown had entirely ceased. But at this moment the sombre clouds that had gathered over the city seemed to be heavily charged with electricity, and there was a peculiarity in the sultry atmosphere which suggested some threatening association with the abnormal signs that lately had caused so much alarm. The day, throughout, had been exceptionally hot for the time of year, but it seemed to Linton as if the mercury must now be mounting up by leaps and bounds. An unnatural, brooding stillness had spread over the whole town. The few people who were walking in the Park did so languidly and in silence; a heavy weight pressed irresistibly upon the spirit. All things, animate and inanimate, seemed to be subsiding, drooping, under the pressure of some gloomy and mysterious influence. Peter, returning from sniffing explorations in the undergrowth of the gardens, came whining to his mistress's feet, as if seeking for the consolation of close companionship. Zenobia sat down and patted the dog affectionately. "Peter is frightened," she said, "there must be a storm coming." Linton looked around, but answered nothing. But he realised that the signs within and without were such as people who lived in tropical countries had more than once described to him.