Dimitrius stood, silently watching. Would she swoon, as she almost did the last time?--or would she be convulsed? No!--she remained erect,--unswerving:--but, as if by some automatic movement, she lifted her arms slowly and clasped her hands above her head in an attitude of prayer. Her eyes closed--her breathing was scarcely perceptible--and so she remained as though frozen into stone. Moved beyond his usual calm by wonderment at this unexpected transformation of a living woman into a statue, he called her,--but she gave no answer. And then another remarkable thing happened. An aureole of white light began to form round her figure, beginning from the head and falling in brilliant rays to the feet,--her dress seemed a woven tissue of marvellous colours such as one finds painted for the robes of saints in antique missals, and her features, outlined against the roseate mist that filled the laboratory, were pure and almost transparent as alabaster. Thrilled with excitement, he could not speak--he dared not move,--he could only look, look, as though all his forces were concentrated in his eyes. How many minutes passed he could not determine, but he presently saw the light begin to pale,--one ray after another disappeared, quite slowly and as though each one were absorbed by some mysterious means into the motionless figure which had seemingly projected them,--then, with equal slowness, Diana’s upraised hands relaxed and her arms dropped to her sides--her eyes opened, brilliant and inquiring. He went to her side. “Diana!” he said, in carefully hushed tones. “Diana----” “Why did you wake me?” she asked plaintively, in a voice of melting sweetness. “Why take me away from the garden I had found? It was all mine!--and there were many friends--they said they had not seen me for centuries! I should have liked to stay with them a little longer!” He listened, in something of alarm. Had she lost her senses? He knew it was possible that the potent force of his mysterious distillation might so attack the centres of the brain as to reverse their normal condition. He touched her hand,--it was warm and soft as velvet. “Still dreaming, Diana?” he said, as gently as he could. “Will you not come with me now?” She turned her eyes upon him. There was no sign of brain trouble in those clear orbs of vision--they were calm mirrors of sweet expression. “Oh, it is you!” she said in more natural tones. “I really thought I had gone away from you altogether! It was a delightful experience!” He was a trifle vexed. He hardly cared to hear that going away from him altogether was “a delightful experience.” She was rapidly recovering from her trance-like condition, and swept back her hair from her brows with a relieved, yet puzzled gesture. “So it’s all over!” she said. “I’m here just the same as ever! I was sure I had gone away!” “Where?” he asked.