THE ORDEAL OF IDA PENDRAGON
The girl, as it seemed mechanically, murmured the words
“ Rosæ Rubeae.”
" Et Aureae Crucis," he rejoined.
Then, together, very slowly and distinctly: "Benedictus
sit Dominus Deus Noster qui nobis dedit signum.”
It seemed hardly possible that her voice joined his.
The
lips hardly moved; it was as if an interior voice spoke in her
heart.
Yet the room was suddenly filled with a pale green
light—or was it rosy ?—or was it golden P—or was it like the
moon?
That was the strange thing about it.
To every
name one put to it an inward voice answered: No, not that;
like that, but not quite that.
Luminous, spectral, cloudy,
shimmering—it was all these, and something more.
He placed his hand upon the girl’s forehead.
" Are you perfectly awake ? "
“I am awake, frater."
“ Can you give me the sign of your grade?"
“ I
must not
move.
But
I
am poised for diving,
frater."
" The word ? "
Haltingly came the answer: “ Ar—ar—it—a.”
“One is His beginning; one is His individuality; His
permutation one.
Do not forget it, little sister."
" Are you ready ? "
“I am ready.
Farewell’farewell for ever
! "
" Farewell.”
He took his Signet-ring, and pressed a spring.
The bezel
opened and disclosed a small jewelled wheel, divided into
many compartments.
He pressed a second spring.
The
wheel began to revolve, and in the silence sang a tiny tune.
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