A peculiar lustre sparkling on one side of the shell-work
however, at last attracted his attention, and, glancing up quickly, he
saw, to his surprise, the reflection of a strange radiance, rosily
tinted and brilliant.
Turning in its direction, he paused, irresolute. Could there be some one
living in that furthest chamber to which the long passage he had
followed evidently led? some one who would perhaps resent his intrusion
as an impertinence? some eccentric artist or hermit who had made the
cave his home? Or was it perhaps a refuge for smugglers? He listened
anxiously. There was no sound. He waited a minute or two, then boldly
advanced, determined to solve the mystery.
This last archway was lower than any of those he had passed through, and
he was forced to take off his hat and stoop as he went under it. When he
raised his head he remained uncovered, for he saw at a glance that the
place was sacred. He was in the presence, not of Life, but Death. The
chamber in which he stood was square in form, and more richly ornamented
with shell-designs than any other portion of the grotto he had seen, and
facing the east was an altar hewn out of the solid rock and studded
thickly with amber, malachite and mother-o'-pearl.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43